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Kellyn shares the whole story, and I sway on my feet. I’m exhausted, and my hands itch from the crusting blood. When he’s done, Marossa rolls her lips between her teeth, closing her eyes.

“Now the warlord is coming for us?” Skiro says carefully, as though if he speaks the words any louder, Kymora will appear then and there.

Kellyn nods. What he says is absolutely true, but what he didn’t specifically mention is that she’s coming for me.

Again.

“Algarow!” Marossa calls. “Bring me my bow. I want to shoot something.”

“It’s on your back, Highness.”

“Arrows, then! And targets. No, take me to the stuffed rooms. I’ll shoot some of the heads!”

The princess storms from the room, her attendants following behind her.

Prince Skiro closes his eyes, presses a finger to the bottom of his nose.

“I’m sorry,” Petrik says slowly. “He may have attacked you, but he was still our brother. I never knew him well, but I’m sure you loved him. Despite him.”

After a few beats of silence, Skiro says, “It has been a long day. I imagine we all would like to get cleaned and in bed. Please see to it.” The last bit he says to the attendants along the walls.

I stay in the bath for hours, long after the water turns cold, just trying to feel clean.

Thoughts of blood and death and screams and crushed skulls play on repeat in my head. Everything that happened, everything I did—I can’t seem to quiet it. To stop it. My fixating mind has new horrors to contemplate after today, and I feel out of control.

I leave the room immediately after dressing and pause outside my door. Temra’s rooms are on the right, Kellyn’s on the left.

I knock on the right door.

No one answers, so I peek inside. The bed is empty, still made. But I hear voices one door down, and it takes me far too long to realize she’s in Petrik’s room.

At first, I don’t know how to feel about that. But I can hear their voices. They’re justtalking, Ziva. And even if they weren’t…

Ick, I don’t want to think about it.

So then I have another choice to make.

Go back to my room alone or…

I knock on the fourth door.

I wasn’t nervous until now, when I’m waiting for him to answer.

What if he’s sleeping and you just woke him up?

What if he’s still in the bath and he answers in a robe?

What if—

The door opens partially, and his red hair comes into focus.

“Ziva,” he says, his tone one of surprise. Like I was the last person he expected to see outside his door.

“Kellyn,” I answer.

And then silence.

I came to him. I’m supposed to say something. What did I want? Why did I knock on his door?