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Thank the heavens we’re having this conversation outside of the castle, where Mordred can’t hear it. I don’t want him deciding that my friends are an unnecessary risk.

I glance at the lake, where silver-tinged fog roils above the glassy surface.

“It’s time for me to go,” I say, my voice hoarse.

Serana hugs me, then Darius, and finally Tana. As I wrap my arms around her tiny body, she suddenly stiffens.

“Something’s coming,” she whispers to all of us. “Danger. Shadows in the night. Murder in their heart. You need to go!”

She shoves me at the boat, and I trip over the wood, falling into the damp base of the vessel. As the boat rocks drunkenly, Tana screams at the others to run back onto the bridge. Shadows are moving, weapons drawn. My heart speeds up. Three members of the Iron Legion are running toward us.

Maybe Tana told me to fuck off, but I’m not leaving my friends to fight them on their own. I climb out of the boat and race up the stairs after them.

When I reach the bridge, I see Serana unsheathing her enormous sword, holding it in front of her. I yank two knives from my belt. Darius unshoulders his bow and nocks an arrow.

The three men skid to a halt, shrouded in fog.

“Don’t come any closer,” I shout to the silhouettes. “You can turn away without getting hurt, and this will be forgotten.”

“I won’t be forgetting anything,” Serana says, her jaw clenched.

“Mongrel scum,” one of the figures hisses.

And then they run to attack us through the mist.

Darius lets an arrow loose, and Serana lunges forward, swinging her sword. As one of the figures swings an enormous axe at me. I duck, already thrusting with my dagger, and it sinks into his side. He lets out a cry, then kicks me in the chest. I stumble back, slamming against the stone wall. My teeth snap together with a jolt. He staggers away, gripping his side in pain.

Serana pivots and slams into an attacker. He gurgles, tumbling off the side of the bridge.

Only one left now, a tall, thin silhouette in the fog.

I throw my other knife, and it finds its mark in his thigh. The man lets out a high-pitched yell, and I recognize his face. It is Tarquin, his features contorted with pain.

He’s already turning to run.

I yank another knife from my boot to go after him, but Tana grabs my arm.

“Don’t! They have way more allies than we do,” she hisses. “You have to get out of here, Nia. You have to do it now.”

I catch my breath. “Any idea who fell over the bridge?”

“I think it was Percival.” Serana peers over the bridge. “He’s dead.”

I turn to Darius, who slumps against the bridge. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.” His voice is strained, and he’s gripping his bleeding arm. “Second time those fuckers got me. Tana is right. You have to go.Youwere their target, not us.”

My mouth goes dry. “Why?”

Tana shakes her head. “The Iron Legion don’t want the assassination to take place. They have a different plan, and we’re standing in their way. I think they don’t want the war to end because it keeps them in power. But I’m also certain they don’t want the demi-Fey to be heroes.”

“What, exactly, is their alternate plan?” I ask.

Serana grips my shoulders and spins me back toward the stairs again. “We don’t know, and there’s no time to talk about it! You must go.”

She’s practically forcing me down the stairs, and the others follow behind her.

“Wrythe will use this somehow,” Darius says. “He’s going to frame it as an attack by the Fey against humans. Nia, if you don’t go now, there won’t be another chance. Get to Brocéliande and help us find a way to end this war.”