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K ANTHE GRITTED HIS teeth as laughter, harsh and full of ridicule, burst from Mareesh. The Klashean prince eyed his opponent up and down.

“I would not dishonor my sword with such traitorous Hálendiian blood. Especially for such a mouse of a man, one who doesn’t have enough of a sword between his legs to even bed his false queen.”

Kanthe sneered at the slight and lifted his blade higher. “Then test my mettle. Or are you too much of a coward?”

Mareesh ignored him and turned to his true adversary. “Aalia, let us put an end to this. Submit and I’ll spare those who are still on their feet or down on their knees. Even our dear brother, Rami, will find a place in my imperium. This I swear.”

Kanthe shifted to block Mareesh’s view. He refused to let this bastard anywhere near her. If he had to lay down his life, so be it.

“Enough!” The command rang sharply across the square.

A gloved hand touched Kanthe’s shoulder and, with gentle but firm pressure, shifted him aside. Regar tried to stop her from leaving the shadow of his protection, but the Paladin was shirked aside just as readily. She stood straight-backed, her veiled gaze sweeping the dead and moaning.

Then she sank to one knee.

Kanthe reached to pull her back up.

But her words, pained and defeated, spilled out first. “I so submit.”

A stunned silence followed, only interrupted by the distant screech of a gull.

Mareesh’s smile widened, delighted and righteous. “I accept your abdication.”

The Klashean prince slid from his saddle, landing amidst his escort of knights. Ensconced within them, he climbed the steps to the top of the platform. His knights swept up, pushing all back, allowing sister and brother to be reunited.

Kanthe stood his ground, but Rami drew him back, fury inflaming his words.

“Aalia has submitted. Once spoken, by Klashean law, a submission cannot be revoked.”

“But—”

“Do not dishonor her.”

With no other choice, Kanthe allowed himself to be forced from her side, from a woman who had captured his respect as much as his heart.

Mareesh closed upon his prize, guarded over by his men. “Let all of Kysalimri bear witness to the end of one reign and the start of a new one.”

He ripped the veil from the kneeling woman.

Before shock could drive him back, his victim rose smoothly, as if newly betrothed and about to greet her husband. In her gloved fingers, a thin blade came to rest under the prince’s chin. Mareesh was warrior enough to recognize the reveal of black hair, the braid of silver bells—and the poisoned nature of the knife at his throat.

Cassta reinforced this. “Do not move, lest this quisl kiss you deeply.”

Upon this signal, the hundreds of baseborn, still cowering on their knees, burst to their feet. They ripped away headpieces and cowls, revealing the white-striped faces of the Shayn’ra. With harrowing screams, the horde descended upon Mareesh’s men, attacking with curved swords and daggers. More of the enemy fell under a barrage fired by bowmen hidden in attics of the surrounding buildings.

A knight to Kanthe’s left toppled backward, a crossbow bolt through the eye.

Another clattered to the stone, wounded or dead.

Regar dispatched a third.

The remaining two Paladins guarded over Kanthe and Rami.

To Kanthe’s right, one of their own knights—the one who had been waiting here for them and planted the Klashean banner—tossed his helm aside, likely happier to fight with his sight unencumbered. Another white stripe was revealed, lining the face of the Shayn’ra leader.

Tazar bellowed, his violet eyes sparking with fury, ready to unleash his anger upon those who had instigated his poisoning. Freshly recovered, he made short work of another pair of Mareesh’s men.

Still, more danger remained.

Cassta had driven Mareesh to his knees, balanced upon the delicate point of her poisoned blade. She circled her captive as two of Mareesh’s knights closed on her. Distracted, she failed to note Mareesh’s hand slipping a dagger from his boot.

Kanthe shoved past his Paladin and ran at the prince. He fought to free the warning trapped in his throat as Mareesh yanked out his dagger. The prince plunged the blade toward Cassta’s blind side.

Before the dagger struck, Kanthe swept his sword down and cleaved through the back of the prince’s hand. Fingers and blade fell to the stone.

Cassta darted a look, offered the barest nod to him, then swung around. As Mareesh screamed in pain and horror, she turned her quisl on the two knights. The poisoned blade darted into cracks between plates of armor, finding flesh for its deadly kiss. Within breaths, strength died in their limbs, stolen by the poison, which then took their lives.

All the while, Kanthe guarded over Mareesh, who moaned and rocked, cradling his ruined hand to his chest.

Cassta joined Kanthe. “Kreshna,” she whispered in a rare moment of appreciation.

The Rhysian word was both thanks and acknowledgment of a debt owed.

He nodded, trying to force his heart out of his throat. Upon reaching the platform, he had hated to abandon Cassta’s side, fearing this very danger. Earlier, her words and actions had been meant to lure Mareesh atop the platform. Their group could not risk the bastard slipping away again, escaping under the protection of his main force.

To prevent that, they had needed to lure Mareesh close.

Still, Kanthe had hoped to usurp Cassta’s role, to keep her from danger, by urging Mareesh up with a challenge. Unfortunately, the Klashean prince had heeded Kanthe no better than the Qaaren envoy had a month ago, both choosing to ignore the king consort.

It seems everyone only wanted Aalia.

With a grimace, Kanthe stared across the square. As quickly as the counterassault had started, it ended. Overwhelmed, caught with their backs turned, Mareesh’s small army had been decimated, with those still breathing down on their bellies or knees. A few stragglers escaped, but they no longer mattered.

Not with Mareesh captured, wounded, and humiliated.

But this pageant had not reached its conclusion yet.

Another on the platform stepped forward. It was the second knight who had been waiting with Tazar. As the figure approached, Tazar reached to a series of clasps behind the knight’s back. Armor fell away from the form beneath.

Like a butterfly from a steel chrysalis, Aalia stepped free.

She was dressed in silken finery, embroidered with gold. From her arms, the snowy wings of her loose sleeves caught the sea breeze, wafting wide. But there was nothing fragile or soft in the fire in her eyes. She also carried a sword in one hand, still ensconced in a steel gauntlet.

With the tip of her blade, she lifted Mareesh’s chin and stared down for a long breath. By now, others had started to regather. Their group did not need many in attendance, just enough to spread the word, to let the story grow grander in its retellings.

“Submit, dear brother,” Aalia said firmly, her words carried across the square. “Or die like a dog upon this stone.”

Mareesh inhaled hard breaths. While a bastard, he was still a seasoned knight and knew defeat. He inclined his chin slightly. “I so submit.”

Rami shifted closer. “And so it is witnessed.”

A few cheers rose from the fringes of the battlefield.

Kanthe felt little joy, only relief, and not a small measure of grief. He stared across the many dead, heard the moans of the wounded, watched crimson streams flowing into the stagnant floodwaters.

So much blood had been spilled to end Mareesh’s villainous insurrection.

Kanthe knew the prince had to be stopped, his rebellion quashed completely, even at the cost of all these lives. If dissension had been left to fester and grow, the price could have been much worse later.

Rami stepped closer, his gaze not on the battlefield, but on his brother. Since last winter’s attack, Rami had hoped Mareesh might redeem himself and eventually be brought back to the family’s fold.

Kanthe saw that hope die in his friend’s eyes.

Still, Kanthe offered as much reassurance as he could muster. “Mareesh had to be crushed. Especially as we start a war with Hálendii. We could not leave a viper at our back, nestled and spreading its venom throughout the city, especially with that poison already leaching all the way to my brother in Azantiia.”

Rami sighed with a slow nod. “No doubt Mareesh would have used the cover of that war to attack Aalia’s rule again, to strike while the empire was at its most fragile.”

“Like he did last winter.”

“And again this day, following the tragedy of the flooding.”

Kanthe nodded.

Aalia had counted on her brother’s unscrupulous tactics to continue. Following the tidal surge, she had devised this hurried plan, to take advantage of this devastation to lure Mareesh out of his viper’s nest. She had spread word surreptitiously that she would be heading into the besieged corner of the city, to stage a rally for the people, and to sustain such a surprise, she would travel with a limited guard.

No one knew if casting out such bait would draw Mareesh from hiding. If not, no harm would have been done. Aalia could have held this very rally to instill confidence in her reign—a necessity in a city beset repeatedly by the ravages of the approaching moon. She had to fight any whispers of her reign being cursed by the gods, to shine as brightly as possible amidst the gloom.

In the end, Aalia’s risky strategy had proven shrewd. Her brother had been lured out.

How could he not?

Mareesh was surely frustrated with his lack of success following the poisonous ambush last month. And now, with the imperial citadel locked tight, the bastard must have feared this could be his last chance. Plus, with the failed assassination, he had lost face with his Hálendiian conspirator. To regain his footing, Mareesh had to act.

Still, this plan—while successful—had come at great cost.

Kanthe watched physiks and other healers abandon their carriages and set about ministering to the wounded. Elsewhere, black-draped clerics spread out among the corpses, sealing the dead’s fate with scented balms meant to attract the attention of the gods.

Kanthe recognized the necessity of their work.

And our own.

Hard days lay ahead. The city had to be united, under one rule, one hand. Kanthe turned to Aalia, suspecting she might have the hardest task: to hold the sprawling Eternal City together while war burned across the Crown.

As if confirming this, a low tremoring shook underfoot. The distant waters of the bay trembled with it. While the small quake died quickly away, it served as a harbinger—worse was yet to come.

Kanthe swung his gaze north.

In another month, he would head back to Hálendii. He remembered Tykhan’s warning about the emergent threat of Eligor, about the narrowing time line afforded them.

One fear grew with every passing day.

Are we already too late?