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I froze, awareness crashing over me. We aren’t alone.

Slowly, I released him. Laurent stood at his side, mouth tight and silver eyes concerned. But there were knights and lords and lowpeople, too. The crowded lawn was still and totally quiet. Beside me, a cot was overturned, its blankets spilled across the ground.

Every set of eyes was fixed on me. Expressions ranged from stunned to fearful. Artur of Lar Guna stood with the lords of the Council, his brow furrowed and disgust pinching his lips together. His disdain confused me—until I realized half of Lar Katerin had just watched me fling myself at Varick and embrace him like a lover while my husband looked on.

Strands of long, pale hair littered the ground. As soon as I noticed it, my scalp burned. I’d ripped my own hair out. My fingernails were bloody. With the exception of Varick, no one on the lawn knew what Midian could do. How he wove illusions so elaborate they replaced reality. The regular people of Nor Doru had no idea what lurked behind the Thicket. They only knew what they saw in front of them, and they’d just seen me screaming at invisible demons and tearing the hair from my head.

I swallowed against a raw throat. The winter air touched the tears on my face, threatening to turn them to ice.

Laurent stepped forward. He put an arm around me and lifted his voice, addressing the crowd. “We’ve all been through a trying ordeal. The queen is tired and needs to rest.” He steered me around and guided me toward the manor house. The crowd’s scrutiny pressed in on me as the Nor Doruvians parted around us. We passed Artur of Lar Guna, whose eyes remained hard and scornful.

“For shame, a male who would willingly allow himself to be cuckolded.”

I staggered, jolting Laurent, who stopped and gave me a worried look. “What is it?” he murmured. He tensed, as if he expected me to start screaming again.

“Nothing,” I said quickly. I couldn’t tell him I’d just heard Artur of Lar Guna’s voice in my head.

Laurent frowned. His eyes narrowed, but he urged me into a walk again. As we neared the manor, Lar Guna’s thoughts echoed once more.

“This has gone on long enough. If I can convince Lar Bassa, the Council can do what needs to be done.”

I kept my head down as Laurent and I neared the manor, Varick a silent presence on our heels. The buoyancy I’d started the day with felt foolish now. Childish and hopelessly naive. Did I really think it was going to be that easy? The voice in my head was mine, but it might as well have been Midian’s. I’d had it all figured out, thinking I could make a few roses and everything would be fine.

I’d been so stupid. Midian hadn’t gone anywhere. Surrendering my will during sex hadn’t banished him or made me stronger. I was right back where I started. He’d shown me that, parading the Sithistran threat before my eyes in bold color. The myriad problems that had followed me to Lar Budina remained. And now I had a new one.

Because if I wasn’t mistaken, I’d just heard Artur of Lar Guna planning treason.

Chapter Thirteen

LAURENT

“You lied to me out there.”

I took Given by the shoulders as Varick closed the bedchamber door behind us. “What happened?” I asked, searching her gaze. “You heard Midian?”

“And saw him. But I heard Lar Guna, too, and it wasn’t an illusion.”

I stiffened. “You heard Artur’s thoughts?”

“As clearly as if he’d spoken them.” Her expression turned stark. “Laurent, I think he’s plotting a coup. He called you a cuckold. He wants to convince Lar Bassa to do something. What, I don’t know. But if he can get Lar Bassa on his side, Lar Guna thinks he can get the Council to do ‘what needs to be done.’”

Ice slid through my veins. Without being totally aware of what I was doing, I dragged her closer. “You heard this?”

“Yes,” she gasped. “I swear it—”

“You have to be very, very certain of this, Given. Tell me exactly what you heard.”

“I did!” She spoke quickly, a tremor in her voice. “We walked past him and I heard him think, ‘For shame, a male who would willingly allow himself to be cuckolded.’ Then he thought, ‘This has gone on long enough’ and—”

“What’s this?” I demanded. “What’s gone on long enough?”

“I don’t know!” She winced. “Laurent—”

Suddenly, Varick was between us, his palm splayed on my chest as he forced me back a step. “Easy, Laurent. She told you what she heard.”

Shame swept me. “I’m sorry,” I said, bracing a hand on his bicep. I lowered my chin and squeezed my eyes shut. “I’m sorry.” The scent of cloves reached me, and I opened my eyes to see Given at my side. She was pale as a sheet. Blood matted her hair where she’d ripped strands from her scalp. If I lived to be a thousand, I doubted I’d see anything as terrifying as her sobbing at visions only she could perceive. She’d contorted her limbs into unnatural positions, gripping her own throat and throwing her body around. She’d screamed herself hoarse.

I squeezed Varick’s arm, then turned to Given and cupped my hands around her tear-streaked face. “I will never raise a hand to you. Do you believe me?”