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I hadn’t checked the fissures around the palace walls this morning, but something told me they were likely getting larger, too.

“More evidence that we’re running out of time...” I muttered.

Aleks frowned, but kept his voice light. “Let’s focus on what we have left, then.”

I nodded in agreement, forcing myself to take deep breaths.

Overseeing the drills was Captain Darien Voss, who was also one of the shades we’d brought back at Graykeep. A man who towered well over six feet tall, with white-streaked, dark auburn hair and a permanent gaze of ice, he spoke little but commanded respect merely with his intimidating demeanor. It was all the more intimidating to think of how he’d existed in this world for so much longer than me—hundreds of years longer—even if hehadspent most of that time as a shade.

I must have seemed like an outsider to him—toallof the soldiers and leaders I needed to somehow convince to follow me into battle.

Despite my doubts, I lifted my chin and cleared my throat. “Captain Voss.”

He gave me a slight bow. “Lady Nova.”

I was hyper-aware of all the heads turning toward us—my brother and all the ones with him, along with dozens of soldiers who slowly ceased their activities to watch and listen. But I kept my gaze level with Voss’s green eyes, trying not to let it wander along the scars that slashed paths across both his cheekbones.

“You remember who brought you back to life,” I stated—not a question; I was leaving nothing up for debate, and I spoke loudly enough for all of our onlookers to hear me.

Voss glanced between Aleks and me, then gave another slight bow of his head.

“And now we require your service. Your sworn oath. I need the best of your regiment ready to go at a moment’s notice.”

His expression hardened even more than usual—but then he glanced over his shoulder and called out a simple command: “Form rank!”

I held my breath as the soldiers moved with precise, practiced discipline, the sound of their boots against the ground a symphony of controlled clicks and stomps. Captain Voss watched them with cold, calculating intensity. Once they had formed a long, unbroken line, he faced me once more.

A sense of authority tingled through me as our eyes met—the same feeling that had overtaken me last night, when the guards outside Aleksander’s room had moved aside at my command.

“By life or by death,” Voss said, crossing an arm over his chest, “by light or by dark, our swords and services are at your command.”

He kept his arm crossed over his heart, speaking to Aleks and me as though we were one entity—a united king and queen hailed in this realm and every other—and I decided right then and there that he was one I could trust.

Maybe it trulywasthe magic that tied those of Graykeep to Calista—a power still flowing, still tying his loyalty to the Shadow Vaelora all these centuries later. I couldn’t explain it, but I was grateful for it among the sea of uncertainty I was swimming in.

I did my best to keep my expression stern as I gave him an approving nod.

“Our young queen seems to have a plan,” came Lord Marek’s cynical voice, shattering the solemn silence. “I wonder if she cares to enlighten the rest of us?”

I turned to glare at him. And with my soldiers still standing at attention behind me, I wasted no time launching into a fiery declaration of what I intended to do.

“The Nerithys Gate awaits us,” I said. “I am leaving for it this evening, with my army in tow. If you wish to prove yourself as a leader of this realm, then you’ll join us as well.”

He didn’t reply.

Silence swept over the other gathered leaders, as well, and the soldiers behind me seemed to be holding their breath, making the moment feel tense and tightly wound—like it might snap at the first wrong word or movement.

“…The gate requires a great deal of magic to open,” said a woman with intelligent eyes and a steady, calm voice—Lady Zara, sovereign of the sanctuary city known as Durnhelm, if I recalled correctly. “A great deal ofbalancedmagic.”

“We’re aware,” said Aleks.

“You truly think you can open it?” Zara asked me.

“Your future queen is more than capable of the required magic,” Bastian said, his tone a quiet warning.

“But we’re not worried abouther, are we?” asked Lord Marek, his gaze shifting to Aleks.

Aleks cut his eyes toward him. His smile was confident—that familiar smirk bordering on arrogant. Magic simmeredjust beneath his skin, little cracks of it burning bright in the dreary daylight, and the combination of those things made my heart stutter. He looked undeniably powerful, even after all he’d endured in this realm that he didn’t truly belong to, and a spark of hope flared through me as I stared at him.