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“Kill her, Sorasa,” Dom said, his voice torn by the smoke. “Kill her.”

The Queen of Galland twitched but Sorasa reacted smoothly, moving with her. Her free hand held Erida by the arm, the other still at her throat.

“You know what happens if you do,” Erida bit out, coughing hard. Her gaze wavered between Taristan and the flames.

Something passed between them, queen and consort, a flicker in their eyes. Both swallowed hard, impossibly cornered.

“You know what happens either way,” Sorasa answered coolly. She glanced to Taristan, taunting. “You decide, Taristan of Old Cor. Do I open your wife’s throat, or does she burn?”

Taristan’s own throat bobbed as he swallowed. He stared, not at Sorasa, but the Queen. The red sheen in his eyes churned, his pupils like two flaming candles. Dom half expected What Waits to leap out into the realm, fueled by all the rage of the abyss.

“Sorasa, kill her,” Dom ground out.

If we cannot kill Taristan, we can remove his greatest ally,he thought, mind spinning.That will be enough. That will be worth the cost. Perhaps this has been our fate all along.

Sorasa ignored Dom, to his eternal chagrin.

She held on, pressing the dagger a little harder. A drop of blood coursed down Erida’s neck.

“Or do you let Domacridhan go?” Sorasa murmured.

On the ground, Dom loosed a low growl. The sword hissed at his throat.

“Sorasa,” he hissed.

“Queen of Four Kingdoms. Empress Rising. That’s what they call you now,” Sorasa purred, pushing Erida sideways, so that she faced Taristan head on. They stepped together, both women bound in a murderous dance.

The assassin’s gaze flared. “What will they call your queen tomorrow?”

Erida did not relent, standing tall against Sorasa’s grip. But even she could not control her tears. Her eyes filled, shimmering to reflect the flames. Again she choked back a cough, gagging on the smoke.

Behind the Queen, Sorasa held her ground. Behind her, the windows gleamed black, opulent panes of glass looking out on the palace gardens.

I should have known I would die arguing with Sorasa Sarn, Dom thought bitterly. His body tightened with frustration, still kneeling beneath Taristan’s blade.

“She’s worth more dead than we are alive,” he shouted. “Kill her!”

Above him, Taristan remained unblinking. His infernal gaze moved to Sorasa. She met his eye without flinching, unbothered by the demon in his mind.

“I will hunt you, Amhara,” Taristan murmured. “Both of you.”

The blade was still cold against Dom’s skin. Part of him knew he could end this himself. One twist of his neck and Sorasa would have no choice. He would be dead and she would have no reason to leave the Queen alive.

I cannot, he knew, broken by the prospect.Do it for me, Sorasa. Do thisforme.

His own tears stung his eyes, desperation threatening to choke him. “Sorasa, please—”

“I’m counting on it,” Sorasa breathed, still glaring at Taristan.

Dom gulped against the steel. He willed himself to do what Sorasa would not.

But then the sword was gone, pulled back an inch. Above Dom, Taristan’s heart rammed. He snarled low in his throat, fighting his own nature.

Across the room, Sorasa did the same.

Their blades moved in careful unison. Behind the Queen, Sorasa’s lips pulled into a sharp, small smile. She watched, keen-eyed, weighing every inch.

So did Dom. He knew her well enough, and listened for the telltale change in her heart. When the rhythm shifted, so did he.