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Surrounded by an Electi platoon, the queen shifted her stance, moving from one foot to the other. Westvane smelled her unease… and understood her restlessness. She never knew what to make of him. Unlike Truly, Lyonesse had never learned to read him, so the fact he continued to break protocol threw her. No one in Azlandia called Lyonesse by her given name. Not without permission.

The queen’s expression tightened. “Are you here to make peace?”

He raised a brow. “Peace?”

“To collect your reward.”

“What reward would that be?”

“You already know.”

“Remind me,” he said, relishing the idea of forcing her to admit it in front her guards.

“Your freedom in exchange for the Door Master.”

Anckar cleared his throat. “Majesty, I don’t think that’s a good —”

“Quiet,” she snapped, slashing her hand through the air.

He adjusted his grip on his swords. “You intend to honor your word?”

“I am an Electi of the royal line,” she said, bristling at the question. “I never lie.”

Westvane swallowed a growl.Never lied.Right. Lyonesse rarely, if ever, told the truth. She spoon-fed those around her falsehood after falsehood, heaping one on top of the next. She didn’t know how to be honorable. And loyalty? He huffed. Lyonesse wouldn’t know — or understand — loyalty even if it walked up and stabbed her with a knife.

The urge to paint the forest floor with her blood rioted through him. He clung to control, knowing all that stood between Lyonesse and the Door Master was him.

“Prove it.”

“How?”

“Deactivate the cage.” Stalling for time, giving Truly what she needed to set the play, he unfolded his wings. “Let me fly free.”

Lyonesse glanced toward the structure she designed. She stared at the powerful web curving over the Parkland, her hesitation palpable.

One side of his mouth curved up.

And there it was — the lie in living color.

He knew she had no intention of letting him go. The deal she’d struck to ensure his compliance was nothing more than a ploy. Not a surprise. He’d known it the second she proposed it inside the Wendigo’s cell. And although chatting with her was the last thing he wanted to do, he needed to be smart.

He recognized her caution. The fact she engaged him in conversation instead of ordering an attack, gave her strategy away. She didn’t want to risk any of the Electi standing between him and her. Lyonesse, more than anyone, understood his abilities, knew he could cut through half her personal guard in seconds, taking the Door Master out of reach forever.

“Step aside, Westvane,” Lyonesse said, refusing his demand to deactivate the cage. Dark pink feathers glimmering in the fading light, she stepped up behind her guards. “Hand her over and go.”

“The cage first,” he said, hedging his bets.

Lyonesse pushed through the frontline. Her guard objected, trying to step in front of her. She waved them to silence.

“Get ready,” Truly murmured behind him.

“About time,” he muttered back, listening as she retreated toward his cabin.

Eyes glowing with unholy light, Lyonesse raised her hands. Magic whipped into a windstorm around her, battering the trees. Branches swayed. Leaves bristled and —

“Now!” Truly yelled, gathering the ribbons of her magic.

Pivoting toward her, Westvane tucked his wings and got low.