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"You're right." Soleil nodded. "That has been our strategy all along. To cause disruption from within." His eyes found mine again. "And having the support of a General would be invaluable."

I shifted uncomfortably as Aether's leg pressed against mine under the table. "I wasn't planning on speaking with him," I said quietly.

"He's in Stormshire, with the rest of your old unit." Lord Soleil's words hit me like a physical blow.

My eyes snapped to Osta. "Does Nazul know anything about this?"

Osta's face fell, and she shook her head. "No. I haven't spoken with him much recently. Since... everything."

Another wave of guilt whipped through me.

"If you could infiltrate Stormshire, convince Ashford..." Soleil leaned forward. "It would be the turning point we all need."

I felt Aether go rigid beside me.

"We could help you, of course. I know it’s late notice, but tomorrow night, all of the Generals will be attending a conference in the central control room. If you could find your way into his quarters, unseen?—"

Aether stood so suddenly the table shook, shadows rippling around him like waves. "It's not happening." His voice was barely more than a growl.

I watched Osta's eyes go wide as she dropped her fork, the metal clanging against porcelain. Her gaze shot to me, but Aether was already too far gone.

"You have no idea who she is." The darkness in his voice made even Lord Soleil lean back. "To us. How important she is."

"Aether, stop." I pushed to my feet beside him.

"She may trust all of you, but I don't." Shadows writhed beneath his skin. "And I will not stand by while the heir to the throne of Umbrathia is led into a death trap."

Silence crashed over the table like a wave. Osta's wine glass slipped from her fingers, red liquid seeping into the white linen like blood. Her mouth opened and closed several times before she managed, "I'm sorry, you're awhatnow?"

Lord Soleil had gone completely still, his composure cracking around the edges. Even Lady Soleil seemed frozen.

"The heir to…" Eron managed. "But you were raised in Sídhe. In a group home. With—" He gestured at Osta, clearly struggling to make sense of it.

"Fia." Osta's voice had taken on that familiar tone she used when she seemed close to passing out. "Are you telling me that on top of being some sort of shadow-wielding, mind-controlling, prisoner-turned-not-so-prisoner, you're alsoactual royalty?"

"It's a recent discovery," I said quietly, shooting a narrowed glance towards Aether.

"Oh, well that makes itsomuch better." She let out a slightly hysterical laugh. "Here I was, thinking you were dead for months, and you're casually discovering you're the heir to an entire realm." She paused, then added, "Though I suppose this explains why you've always been so terrible at folding laundry."

"Osta," I started, but she was on a roll now.

"Does this mean I have to curtsy? Because I've been practicing, you know, working for the Soleils and all, but I'm still quite terrible at it. Though I suppose you are too?—"

"The political implications alone—" Lord Soleil began.

"Oh please," Osta interrupted, rolling her eyes. Then she froze, horror spreading across her face. "Wait, should I not say things like that anymore? Are there rules about insulting foreign royalty? Am I going to be arrested? Because I have so many incriminating stories?—"

"Osta!" But I was fighting back a smile now, grateful for her ability to cut through tension. But nothing about Aether's posture had changed, if anything, he seemed more riled than before.

"Excuse us for a moment," I managed, grabbing Aether's arm and dragging him towards the treeline.

"Can you simply not help yourself?" I seethed once we were out of earshot.

"They were going to send you into Stormshire," he growled, turning to face me. "Like some kind of liaison."

"That wasn't decided?—"

"That's precisely what their plan depends on." His shadows writhed beneath his skin. "And now they know who you are, and the implications that come with that."