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Serinbor turned down a tunnel lined by flaming golden sconces, where Evora waited amidst a small crowd. He didn’t see Josephine anywhere.

Evora pushed through the crowd to intercept him, appraising him from head to toe as she walked. “There is the Alder I remember,” she said with a smirk.

Alder didn’t tell his cousin that she was wrong. The Alder she remembered had died in a very dark cell, in a very dark place, a very long time ago.

“Our kin seem a little happier to see me today,” he whispered to her as he followed her through the crowd.

“Well, you don’t look like a wild bear.”

“I like looking like a wild bear. It intimidates my enemies.”

“Yes, but it also intimidates your friends.”

Alder winked, and Evora rolled her eyes. She pushed in a pair of wooden doors overlaid in silver vines, and the murmuring crescendoed. She led them into an atrium, where citizens of Light and Weald were crammed into every nook and cranny, all gathered around a platform where Abecka and her three elders stood—one male and two females, including Sienne. There was something familiar to him about the other female, but her back was to him and he couldn’t be certain.

Still, he didn’t see Josephine.

He was about to ask Evora where she was when Abecka’s voice rang over the din.

“There you are,” Abecka said.

The crowd quieted. The other female elder turned, and Alder felt his chances at a mostly tolerable future promptly crash through the floor.

Celia de’Lana.

She was from another life, another Alder, back when the Courts of Light and Weald had entangled themselves in petty tricks and scheming—mostly prompted by Alder’s devising, wreaking havoc out of sheer boredom. Alder’s mother had desired an alliance between their courts in the wake of all the problems Alder created, and she’d pressed for a union between Celia and Alder. Alder had had no inclination of being united to anyone, or anything, but Alderhadbeen inclined to acquire the moonstone bracelet Celia always wore. It had been enchanted by the enchantress herself, and Alder intended to inlay the precious artifact into his longbow.

Celia had no notion of parting with it, of course, just as Alder had no notion of marriage. Clearly, he never said this to Celia as he’d proceeded to court her. And then one morning Celia awoke to an empty bed, a naked wrist, and a note of gratitude that also stated an end to their courtship, because Alder did, after all, havesomemanners.

Celia had never forgiven him, and truthfully, Alder wouldn’t have forgiven him either. Sometimes he wondered if he’d been more of a monster then than he was now…

“Prince Alder.” Celia said his name with acid, and there was fire in her gaze.

“Celia,” Alder said smoothly. “You look well.”

She looked as if she might ignite into kithflame, but he was spared her vitriol by a sharp knock on the door. “Ah, there she is now,” Abecka said, then, more loudly, “Enter.”

One of the doors swung inward, and Priestess Nistarra strode inside. Her gaze swept the crowd before settling upon Abecka, and she bowed low. “I have brought in Princess Josephine Alistair, as you’ve requested.”

Though he’d expected it, the title rattled Alder and for some unknown reason, his palms began to sweat.

And then Josephine walked in.

The kith still hadn’t returned Seph’s things. After leaving the enchantress the night before, Priestess Nistarra had taken Seph to a natural hot spring to bathe and given her a clean nightdress. Seph’s skin was still raw from all the scrubbing, all that dirt and dried blood—so much, it’d muddied the spring’s clear water—and her scalp ached from battling all the knots in her hair. At one point, she considered asking Nistarra for a knife to cut it all off and be done with it, but the only thing that stopped her was that they’d given her too much already, and she didn’t want to accrue any more debts to these kith.

She had her own bedchamber.

Never in her life had Seph been given so much space to herself. Tosleep. It seemed like a waste, this giant, empty bed meant for one small body. Linnea and Nora, and even Mama, could’ve crammed in there with her. She had her own fire, her own table and upholstered chair—and a bookcase! Seph had never felt more out of sorts, moreuncomfortable, and when she crawled onto that platform they called a bed, with space enough for five people, she could not find rest. She tossed and she turned, haunted by all Abecka had shared, until eventually Seph pulled the blankets from the bed, dragged them to the chair, and there she finally found sleep.

It wasn’t until Nistarra was setting a tray of food on the table before her that Seph awoke.

“The enchantress requests your presence before the elders and the courts this morning,” Nistarra said, eyeing Seph with a frown.

It was morning?

Seph yawned, sat up in the chair, and her spine popped. “Now?”

“Yes. I left your clothing upon your bed.”Whereyoushould be,her expression seemed to say.