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Lyrena glanced to Cyara, found no help, then looked back to me. She cleared her throat. “We thought you might want to talk.”

“I don’t.” I spun on my heel and walked away.

Of course, they followed.

The jungle was dense. I drew Excalibur from my back and started hacking away at it. I couldn’t bring myself to use my brother’s sword to defend myself in combat. I might as well use it for something. I slashed and slashed.

Sweat dripped down my back, my neck. I wasn’t cold anymore.

I was wearing my thick leather leggings. No chafing thighs. An unforeseen benefit of the constrictive clothing. Not that I was feeling pain. At least, not the physical kind.

If I didn’t have the Ancestors-damned scabbards at my waist, I’d have had dozens of small cuts on my arms from the branches and thick shrubbery. Another thing I could thank Arthur for—

“Ancestors,” Cyara cursed behind me.

I swung around quickly, blade high, and took out a solid chunk of Lyrena’s golden braid. I blinked. Once. Twice. Expecting her to react—to cry out. She spent a lot of time on that gorgeous hair of hers.

But her eyes focused on me—only me.

At her side, Cyara was rubbing her upper arm. A red welt peeked out from the openVof her tunic. One of the branches must have caught her across the chest.

“Go back to the others. I am fine.” A command. They both knew me well enough to recognize it.

“The others are behind us. I believe Arran and Osheen are seeing to the flora in a less… destructive way. But they’re making a path,” Lyrena said.

“Great. Go back and walk with them so you do not get injured.”

“We are fine where we are.”

“Take Cyara back.”

A sharp shake of her copper head. “No, Veyka.”

“I am the High Queen—”

“You are our friend and you are in pain,” Cyara said simply. Then she reached out.

She who had every reason to be afraid of me. Who I’d literally ripped into pieces when I lost my temper. She reached through the thorny shrubbery and wrapped her small hand around my forearm.

I dropped the mighty sword to the ground. “Arthur lied.”

I dropped to my knees beside it. “He lied to me.”

Cyara dropped right down with me.

“He communicated with the humans in Eldermist. Sent fae guards to protect them—presumably through the mountain rift. The rift that was supposed to be a secret.” My head was shaking. I was shaking. Again. “The same rift that humans came through to murder him.”

“I didn’t know him at all. When I came out of the water gardens, it felt like I’d found my other half. The piece of me that was always missing. My twin. But everything he told me was a lie.”

Cyara’s hand was steady on my arm. I could only see Lyrena’s goldstone-studded boots. She was still standing.

My sorrow turned to something sharper as I stared at the goldstone, catching rays of sun through the tangled trees and burning bright orange.

“You knew him. Longer than me. Better than me.” I couldn’t keep the bitterness out of my voice.

I expected Lyrena to drop down beside Cyara, to offer comfort. But she remained standing. Why? She was my friend, wasn’t she?

I forced myself to look up. Past the blur of tears in my eyes. Maybe I would find hate there—maybe she hated me for what I’d said. Maybe she resented that Arthur had spent any time with me at all. She’d been his—