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“So,” I finished, “now we just need to rescue my sister, stop Varin from taking the throne, and make sure Tatiana crowns Aric exactly at sunrise. Any questions?”

My guards and Marya exchanged a skeptical glance.

We were seated around a dusty wooden table, helping ourselves to midnight rations: a veritable mountain of pastries that Marya had somehow managed to abscond with from the kitchens. My guards ate eagerly while I filled them in, making up for the shortages of the past week. I’d forced myself to eat a few bites, knowing it was far too long since I’d had a proper meal, but the food sat poorly on a stomach twisted with nerves.

We hadn’t headed to the building in the arboretum as I’d thought we might. Instead, after making our crowded way through the tunnels as silently as possible—a difficult feat with nine people—we’d emerged into a disused storage room. Gildenheim’s castle was apparently packed with secrets.

“We’ll need reinforcements,” Catalina said finally. “Your Grace, we would fight to the death for you, but there are only six of us—”

“Seven,” Marya interjected. “Ten, if you count me properly.”

“—only seven of us. And we’re not in our best condition.”

“Fighting to the death sounds counterproductive,” Aric said dryly. “I’d prefer you didn’t attempt it.”

Catalina gave my husband a dark look. I had the impression she might do just that for the sake of spiting Aric. After a week of being imprisoned by his guards, my retinue hadn’t quite had time to revise their assessment of his character.

“Nobody is fighting to the death,” I cut in hastily. “We’ll gather more support. Somehow.”

“What about Ambassador Dapaz?” Catalina asked. “Could he rally reinforcements if we get a message to him?”

I shook my head. Evito had been critical in setting up the rendezvous with Tatiana, and he had kept us informed along the way—not the actions of a man under Varin’s influence, or so I’d thought. But someone had betrayed us. The guards waiting at the border inn were proof. Even if Evito wasn’t directly involved with Tatiana’s capture, he’d been compromised.

“The ambassador’s messages are not secure,” I said. I would wait to share my suspicions until I had more evidence, but I wasn’t going to give him more ammunition to potentially turn against us now.

“What about my personal guard?” Aric asked Marya. “Do you think they’re loyal?”

Marya turned a pastry in her fingers. Judging by her expression, she was considering its potential uses as a weapon. “Your personal guard, yes. As for the general castle guard… I can think of a few I trust, but it would be hard to draw them away from the rest without attracting notice.” She grimaced. “From what I gathered before Varin decided to toss me in prison, someone has been distributing a steady stream of bribes over the past few months, starting before the queen passed away. And to be blunt, Aric, you have been… less than present at court. They don’t have much reason to ally with you. Not when they’re being paid handsomely to look away.”

Aric’s jaw tightened. I pressed his hand under the table.

“I understand,” he said. “I intend to do better.”

He didn’t say the rest, but we all heard it: If I get the chance. I ran my thumb over his knuckles, and this time he returned the pressure.

“How many soldiers are in the king’s personal guard?” Catalina asked.

Marya answered through a mouthful of crumbs. “A dozen.”

Catalina drummed her fingers on the table. “That nearly triples our forces. If we can get word to them, we can ask them to gather as many firearms as possible. That should give us something of an advantage, since my people regularly train with explosives. If we split up, one group can intercept the guards who have Duchess Tatiana before they reach the castle while the other storms the throne room—”

“If I may make a suggestion.” Aric’s voice was low but cutting. “There’s a critical point you’re all forgetting. We don’t actually need to kill anyone. We just need to get the crown and Tatiana, and give her the opportunity to crown me, before Varin can go through with the coronation.”

I exchanged a sheepish look with Catalina. Here we were focused on how to spill the most blood, missing the point entirely.

“Please,” I said. “Continue.”

“The coronation ceremony has two parts,” Aric said. “It ends with the monarch entering the throne room to be formally recognized by the court. But before that, there’s a private ritual in the council chamber, where the new monarch takes an oath to protect the realm and its wild places. A dignitary then brings in the crown and facilitates the blood magic ritual—but only after the monarch has taken their vows.”

We were all leaning eagerly forward, following the implications, but it was Catalina who said it. “So the crown won’t be in the room with Varin. Not at first.”

Aric nodded. “And Varin won’t be in the throne room, where there are more guards. So we’ll have a short gap before dawn where the crown is unwatched.”

A beat, while we all processed what that meant.

“We could get the crown before Varin does,” I said. “And Aric could meet Tatiana and undo the curse without having to fight Varin at all.” Showing up already crowned before the entire court, instead of confronting Varin in a more private setting, would be a much stronger—and safer—tactic.

It was a desperate shot, and the timing was tight. But if we played it out precisely…

“We’re going to need to stop that carriage before Duchess Tatiana reaches the castle,” Marya said. “And we’ll need a distraction to keep Varin busy until after dawn. If he realizes the crown is missing, he’ll summon the guards in full force.”

“I have an idea.” Aric looked at me. “But I don’t think any of us are going to like it.”

Several hours later, I stood in the darkness of another spyway, facing down a door I didn’t want to enter. On the door’s other side lay the council chamber where Varin would be crowned at dawn. Unless I was strong enough to stop him. Unless Aric, Catalina, and Marya all pulled off their pieces of the plan.

I pressed my eye to the door’s peephole, the wood cold against my cheek. The view revealed an oval chamber ringed by six ornate chairs, tall windows set between them with an overlook of the still-sleeping city. A seventh throne-like seat squatted at the apex, directly across from the set of double doors.

Outside the windows, the clouds were lifting. The dusky sky had brightened to a deep plum hue, almost ripe for the picking.

Not much longer until sunrise. Any moment now, Varin would arrive to begin the private coronation ritual, not suspecting that Aric and Catalina were making their way out of the castle with the crown to rendezvous with Marya, my guards, and my sister. All of them relying on me to keep Varin occupied until Tatiana had broken Aric’s curse.

A twist of nausea burned its way through my stomach. I drew back from the peephole and closed my eyes against the pain. Dizziness washed over me, and I concentrated on the sting of my nails biting into my palms to drown it out. Seas have mercy. This was the worst time for my condition to flare.

On the other side of the door came the tramp of footsteps. The courtiers were arriving.

Another wave of pain clawed at the inside of my ribs. I pressed my fist to my stomach, working to keep my breathing steady, and leaned back against the wall. Something crunched in my clothing.

The peppermints.

I fumbled for the bag, my fingers shaking. I popped one into my mouth and bit down on the cool mint, then hesitated. The greenwitch had said to use them sparingly, but…

I pulled out a second mint. Whatever consequences overusing them brought couldn’t be worse than what would happen if I failed to keep Varin and his allies distracted. Taking care of myself would have to wait for later.

I swallowed both mints as fast as I could, feeling the cool burn and the tingle of magic. The fire in my stomach abated slightly. If we pulled this off, I was going to have a serious discussion with my parents about where my family’s portion of the Adepts’ funding was directed. Relieving pain seemed a much more worthy use of magic than inventing new ways to kill people.

Another breath. The pain ebbed a little more. I took a final breath for good measure, then pressed my eye to the peephole again.

Just in time. The courtroom doors swung open. Lord Varin stepped into the room, followed by six courtiers draped in the finest fabrics.

Varin stalked down the center of the deep green carpet towards the end of the room where I stood hidden. The courtiers fanned out behind him, each taking their place in one of the chairs. The two nearest to me—a stout man with warm brown skin, and a woman with white hair and the fair complexion of Gildenheim—sat to Varin’s right and left. Their expressions were flat as mirrors, ready to reflect whatever image they deemed most advantageous. It was impossible to tell what they thought of Varin’s ploy for the throne.

My eyes swept the room, looking for allies. I recognized only Evito, stoic in a lapis doublet. His expression was as inscrutable as any other courtier’s.

The last of the procession entered the room. Behind them—my heart stuttered at the sight—a double line of guards filed into the chamber. A dozen soldiers, outnumbering the nobles two to one. The guards were dressed in forest green as usual, but wore their finest attire, threads of silver embroidery dazzling at the collar and neck. Sabers hung at their hips, hilts gleaming. They placed themselves between the chairs, halberds gripped firmly. The last two framed the door. Blocking an easy escape.

Aric hadn’t mentioned any guards. My pulse fluttered in my throat. This was an unexpected complication.

Varin was close enough now that I could pick out the glitter of each individual jewel sewn into his shirt, the flash of every ring on his fingers. Almost where I needed him.

A hot wave of pain surged through my core. I bit down on a gasp and braced myself against the wall. The most critical moment, and my weakness threatened to undo me. My parents had been right after all. I wasn’t good enough, wasn’t strong enough, simply wasn’t enough of anything I was meant to be—

You are strong, Bianca. Stronger than I think you know.

Aric’s words. Aric, who had seen me at my weakest and called me strong. Not because I pretended to be. Because I already was.

It was time to prove him right.

I drew in a steadying breath. Then I lifted my head, set my shoulders, and cleared the pain from my face as I had a thousand times before. Not hiding my weakness, but revealing the strength that burned within my core.

I reached for the door and flung it open.

“Stop.” My words, spoken in Gilden, rang through the shocked courtroom. “I am Duchess Bianca Liliana, flower of Damaria, and this coronation must not proceed.”