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Creon shrugged. The gesture had a decidedly remorseful air to it – but no trace of mischief, no sign he was simply pulling a misplaced joke on me.

Killing the previous one.

‘You mean …’ A sensible conclusion, and yet it didn’tfeellike one – didn’t feel like a conclusion at all. ‘You mean, like I just did?’

‘Well.’ His half-smile didn’t reach his eyes. ‘That would be an example, yes.’

I stared at him.

That little exchange between him and Agenor, right after the latter found us next to Achlys’ and Melinoe’s bodies …Who?The shortest, simplest question, as if no more explanation was needed. And then my father’s relief as Creon put forward my name – because the alternative had beenCreontaking credit for the kill,Creonon the throne of the empire …

Whereas now …

My thoughts didn’t manage to reach any further than that.

‘I’m sorry,’ he softly said, sitting up straight again and draping his arms over his knees. His gaze didn’t stray from my face. ‘I didn’t realise you didn’t know until a few days ago. And then I figured – with everything you had on your mind already – you might prefer to focus on the fight ahead without having to worry about fae politics.’

That little bit of well-intended scheming barely made it through to my conscious mind. ‘But … but you’re not honestly saying …’

Another apologetic shrug.

‘But that’sridiculous,’ I burst out.

He gracefully tilted his head, strands of dark hair brushing over his sculpted shoulders. The first hint of a challenge glittered back to life in his eyes, that look that told me he was ready to make every opposing point, in twisted and elaborate andpotentially pleasurable ways, if I really insisted on arguing the matter. ‘Is it?’

‘Don’t make a bloody game out of this!’ I clenched my fists in the grass, soft blades tickling the skin between my fingers. ‘Not a single sensible person is going to accept this madness. You know they won’t. I’m achildin fae years, for hell’s sake!’

‘Not in human years,’ he dryly pointed out.

I barely heard him. ‘And I don’t have wings! I didn’t grow up in the fae isles! I don’t even know enough about my own people’s history to realise I just accidentally crowned myself! How in the world would I ever—’

‘You have me and Agenor and all the time in the world,’ he interrupted, unfazed. ‘That clever brain of yours has handled itself under worse circumstances.’

‘I don’t have time if someone sticks a knife in my back tomorrow!’ I snapped. ‘Which they’ll probably try, given that—’

He sighed. ‘Who would, Em?’

That was such a reasonable question – such a maddeningly pragmatic question, too – that it took all the wind from my furious sails. I deflated into the grass, suddenly aware of the lake and the rustling reeds and the balmy sunlight again, and defiantly mumbled, ‘Well … everyone.’

His eyebrows shot op.

‘Except for you, of course.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘And Agenor, I suppose. But there have to be high-ranking individuals from her court who didn’t get killed in the fight …’

‘Oh, yes,’ he readily agreed. ‘Plenty.’

‘And I suppose wecouldhave them all executed, but the bastards presumably have friends and family who would only be more determined to take revenge and go after me …’

Creon’s face remained suspiciously neutral. ‘Mm-hm.’

‘But if we keep them alive …’ I grimaced. ‘Well, I doubt the war ended their personal ambitions. So what’s stopping them fromtrying to take advantage of the power void the Mother has left behind?’

‘It’s not a void,’ he pleasantly corrected. ‘You’re very much filling it.’

I flung up my hands. ‘You don’t get to avoid the very reasonable point I’m making by quibbling about semantics, Creon!’

He accepted that argument with a wry grin, rubbing a scarred hand over his face. ‘As you wish. In that case – yes, there are people I would expect to cause trouble if given the chance, and no, I wouldn’t recommend killing them all. So why do you think I just spent hours having cosy chats with a few dozen of our captives, exactly?’

I frowned. ‘You … what?’