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My legs jolt on their own accord. I step around, then turn until my back is to Ronan, and I’m starting up the street again. My muscles move as though threaded with strings that Daxeel pulls,and I think of those puppeteers that I used to watch when I was a youngling.

In three quick running steps, Ronan is at my side.

He matches my pace.

I throw a sideway glance at him. “Did Pandora send you?”

“I am here to represent the Queen’s Court.” His chin lifts. Pride strikes through him; it stiffens his spine and creaks his leathers. “I have been looking for you, searching for a way to get a message to you in that house.”

“A message?” I ache to stop, to turn and face him, but my legs keep on and hike me up the hill. “Is everyone—”

“All is well, the babe is in full health and still in-womb.” Ronan dismisses my questions before I can ask them. “I am here to extend an offer on behalf of the Queen’s Court, therefore on behalf of Licht.”

“To me?” The frown I aim at him squints my eyes, doubt and suspicion creasing my face. “What sort of offer?”

Just streets away from Hemlock, Ronan wastes no time. “Kill Daxeel.”

My lips part.

My boots trip on the stone slabs of the uneven road, but they don’t stop their hike.

No words come from me.

I simply stare at him a moment, like a fish on ice, frozen in its final breath, forever in shock.

Kill Daxeel.

The Queen’s orders.

Ronan has been sent on official business of the Queen’s Court, of Licht, to me—to ask me to kill the male I love.

And it is all so wildly unbelievable that all I manage is a choked sputter, “You wantwhat?”

Ronan has no time for soothing my panic. He has no patience for the delicacy he should have in such an outrageous request. Not as my legs carry me to the bend of the road, and I take the street to the right, the one that will lead me to Hemlock.

“We have others assigned to the task,” he tells me. “At Comlar on the battle blocks is the safest way we can succeed without threatening the treaty. But he is… formidable.”

“You have attempted this?” My voice pitches, my arms hug tighter around the scrolls. They pop and crinkle in protest. “You have tried to kill him?”

“Of course.” He issues me a frown, one that creases with his blatant judgement—one that calls me slow. “A few times now. But it is not only Daxeel we face. All the dark ones know the risk of losing Daxeel’s life, Caius too, so they are rarely alone and unprotected. Even his own enemy—if of dark blood—will throw themselves between Daxeel and a blade to preserve his life for the second passage.”

It is true.

Any bad blood between Daxeel and another dokkalf will be forgotten in the Sacrament.

The dark ones hold their duty to the lands above all else.

“Nari, forgive this rush and impertinence. But Daxeel cannot be allowed to compete in the close of the Sacrament.” Ronan’s strides keep my pace and he is losing time with me. “What do you think Dorcha will do with the Cursed Shadows if they gain the power? Daxeel’s bloodline will relinquish the Cursed Shadows to the iilra—and then, there will be nowhere they cannot go. No limits to their invasions, no end to their violence.”

My nostrils flare around a shuddering inhale. “Where you have murder as your solution, I have other schemes in play. I won’t kill the male I love.” I punch the statement with a steady look. “And I don’t have to. I’ll get him to stop. He’s already… thawing. By the time the second passage comes, I know he will do what is right.”

Ronan scoffs deep in his chest. It comes out as a puff. “Nari, please. Our intel has determined that you won’t make it through the Sacrament. Daxeel has greater plans than you can fathom.”

I dig my heels into the ground.

A quiver strikes my legs.

I manage to stagger around to face him.