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In the background, I hear more voices. They sound louder, bolder. Whatever precious time I have, it’s slipping through my fingers.

“Tell me the rest of the plot.”

Zosines laughs weakly. “You cannot hope to outmaneuver it.”

I pull the dagger away from his throat. There’s a flicker of curiosity in his eyes and maybe a little victory, as though the futility of my situation is finally sinking in.

I study him, meeting those dark, devious eyes. I’m not mistaken—triumph does flicker in them. Unfortunately for him, he cannot see the thick plumes of my magic wrapping around us.

Adjusting my grip on his dagger, I shove the blade into his side.

He begins to scream, but it does him little good. My power swallows up the sound.

“Stop fucking with me, and tell me the full plot,” I command, “and maybe I’ll heal this wound.”

He gasps, but an unholy excitement dances in his eyes, one I’ve only ever seen on his face when we’re in battle. “You’ll pay for that later, my queen,” he vows, spitting out my title like it’s an oath.

I twist the knife, and Zosines screams between clenched teeth.

“Answer me.”

“Half of Memnon’s top warriors were in on it. Itaxes, Rakas, Tasios, Palakos, Thiabo, Dzoure, and more,” he gasps out.

My stomach twists at the betrayal.

“You and Memnon were both to be drugged at dinner,” Zosines continues. “Once you were sedated, the plan was for Eislyn to take Memnon away—she had very specific plans forhim—and you were to come with me. But you left dinner early, so here we are. There are five hundred Roman soldiers and mercenaries preparing to descend on the palace, if they haven’t already. Another thousand mercenaries, mainly Cimmerians, are at the ready, should anything not go smoothly.”

I try not to feel as hopeless as Zosines is making the situation sound. Memnon has single-handedly defeated worse odds. It’s not over yet.

“What else?” I ask.

Sweat beads on his forehead, and his breathing comes in short, shallow pants. “The royal family and any loyalists were to be killed. We can’t have anyone avenging the fallen king and causing unrest.”

Terror rolls through me. Tamara and Katiari are certainly at the top of the list.

“What do you get out of it?” I ask.

The corners of Zosines’s mouth twitch and spasm as though he’s trying to hold a gloating smile back. “I would be king.”

Ah, there it is. He sold his dearest friend out for power.

His mouth continues to twitch.

“Anything else?” I prod.

Finally, he adds, “You. I would get you as a war prize.”

My eyebrows lift. Me? It’s such a preposterous thought.

“Why?” I finally ask.

The look in his eyes shifts, turning…covetousis the best word for it. I’ve seen that look from him before. I just never paid it much attention. The man has six wives—already more women than he must know what to do with. If he had it his way, I would be the seventh.

Revulsion moves through me. He clearly never thought this through. I’d curse him to death sooner than he could lay a finger on me.

The distant sounds of commotion grow louder. I think…I think I hear the massive palace doors groaning open. Shit.

“Besides you,” I say, “is anyone else coming for me?”