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Every head in the room snapped towards me. Whispers rolled through the chamber like ripples from a stone thrown into a pond. I knew how I must look: emerging from the wall in mud-stained clothes, hair tangled, dust and cobwebs streaking my face and attire from my earlier trips through the tunnels. Enough to cause a stir even if I wasn’t wanted for murder. I could hear the gossip I’d always tried to avoid forming around me with every step I took.

But for once I welcomed the whispers. This time my goal was not to keep them at bay, but to bring them howling in—focusing Varin and the courtiers’ attention on me so they wouldn’t notice the crown was missing until it was too late.

I kept moving forwards, driving towards Varin like a lance. “This man is a usurper.” I raised my voice so that it echoed through the entire room. “This isn’t a coronation—this is theft.”

Varin gestured. Two guards stepped forward, their crossed halberds blocking my path. I halted, lifting my chin.

“I am the representative of Damaria’s Council of Nine and wife of Aric of Gildenheim. Step aside and let me pass.”

It was a gamble—one I didn’t think would succeed, but it was keeping all eyes on me. And my purpose here wasn’t to win. It was to distract.

The guards flicked uneasy glances at Varin, but didn’t move.

Varin’s gaze was cold and heavy as a boulder as it landed on me. “While I regret your loss, your Grace, Aric is dead.”

“No,” I parried, “he’s not—despite your attempt to have him assassinated on our wedding night.”

A gasp ran through the courtiers. I kept my expression neutral, but a satisfied smile hid at the corner of my mouth. The Gilden court would be talking of little else for days.

Varin’s brows drew together, ominous as thunder. I braced myself to be seized. Then, to my surprise, he flicked his hand, calling the guards off.

Varin rose from his seat and walked towards me with measured paces. I held my ground and thought of the dagger in my sleeve as he bent to murmur into my ear. “I advise you to consider your words carefully, your Grace. A certain Damarian guest was admitted to the castle a short while ago. You want to make sure she’s well cared for, don’t you?”

Tatiana. I forced myself not to visibly react, but my nails bit into my palms. This wasn’t how our plan was meant to unfold. Marya and her guards should have intercepted my sister before she reached the castle.

They must have been too late. My mind raced, searching for a way out of this trap. If Marya hadn’t managed to rescue Tatiana, where were the captain and her guards now? And if Varin had Tatiana, what would Aric do with the crown?

Varin’s eyes burned into mine. Like any capable politician, he recognized victory when he was on its cusp.

“Well?” he asked, interrupting the scurry of my thoughts. “I’m willing to accept a public statement acknowledging my right to the throne, after which we can negotiate a new treaty between our countries. If you insist on being difficult, however, I’ll have you arrested for murdering your husband instead.”

Nausea curdled my stomach. I fought it down. I didn’t need to agree to this in truth. Varin might have Tatiana, but he didn’t have the crown. And Marya wouldn’t have given up on freeing my sister so easily, not when breaking Aric’s curse depended on it. I just needed to give her enough time to rescue Tatiana and rendezvous with Aric.

A public statement. I could draw that out until I bored his advisors to tears, stalling Varin while letting him think he had won. I gave Varin a brittle smile, wishing I could strangle him instead.

“It would be my honor to make such a statement, your Majesty, ” I said, sweet as poisoned wine.

Varin returned to his seat and gestured for me to step forwards. I turned to face the room, and the whispers fell silent.

I hadn’t planned to make a speech—I’d planned to make a spectacle of myself. My role was to make a dramatic entrance, spout accusations to the court, and keep all eyes on me while Tatiana crowned Aric in secret—stalling the official coronation until Aric, curse broken, could make an entrance of his own.

But now Varin had invited, or rather ordered, me to address the courtiers. I could twist that to my original purpose if I was careful. Words were like swords: they could be sharp on both sides.

“Nobles of Gildenheim,” I began.

But before I could get any further, tramping feet and rattling metal turned all heads to the courtroom doors.

“Out of the way!” A woman dressed in the uniform of the royal guard pushed past the soldiers at the door. The crowd parted to make way. Behind her, a pair of guards appeared in the entrance, flanking two people with hands bound behind their backs: one a dark-haired woman, eyes flashing as she struggled against her captors. The other a man pale as a winter morning, offering no resistance as the soldiers hauled him forwards.

Aric and Catalina.

My heart dropped to the floor and shattered. No —they weren’t meant to be here. Not like this, uncrowned and captive. I fought to keep the horror from my face as the guards dragged Aric and Catalina the length of the courtroom and threw them to their knees before Varin. Whispers exploded around us like gunshots. Is that—surely it couldn’t—the heir apparent is—

Varin stood abruptly. Lightning crackled through his voice. “Why have you brought them here?”

“We found them in your personal chambers, my lord.” The soldier who had entered first spoke again. “Just as you anticipated. They were trying to steal the crown.”

Varin’s expression flashed from fury to cold calculation. The guard swayed back on her heels, realizing her mistake—Varin hadn’t intended the court to know of Aric’s capture.

My head spun, bile rising as I realized the flaw in our plan. Varin had expected this. He’d anticipated that Aric would attempt to stop the coronation and had laid plans of his own. Our only advantage now was that he hadn’t meant for his guards to bring Aric into this room, where all of the court’s highest ranking nobles could see that he was alive.

Catalina met my eyes, her gaze an apology. She’d taken a beating and looked even worse than before. One eye was swollen; a crimson trickle ran from her nose. Guilt threatened to choke me.

Aric didn’t look at me. He stared straight ahead, as if he’d been turned to stone. A drop of blood beaded from a cut on his temple and tracked towards the stubble on his jaw. I bit down on my tongue so hard I tasted iron.

Varin stared at his half brother for a long moment, a vein pulsing in his temple. Then, without looking up, he pointed at the door.

“Get out.” The words filled the room. “All of you except the guards. Out now.”

The whispers rose to a frenetic roar, but the courtiers filed out, looking over their shoulders so dedicatedly I was shocked that no one tripped. The closest duo of advisors hesitated, looking at Varin.

“You two as well,” he snapped. “This is a personal matter.”

The white-haired woman’s mouth pinched in disapproval, but she took the man’s arm and headed towards the door.

“My lord Varin.” A man’s smooth tones, accented with the lingering syllables of the Damarian tongue. I knew that voice. Both Varin and I looked up as Evito Dapaz walked towards us. His hands were easy at his sides, his eyes bright and calculating. “Perhaps I can be of service in this discussion.”

A look passed between him and Varin that I couldn’t read. Apprehension stirred in my stomach as I recalled my earlier doubts about the ambassador.

Varin nodded curtly. “You may stay.”

The rest of the courtiers filed out. Within moments the only people left in the courtroom besides Varin and Evito were me, my husband, and Catalina—and over a dozen soldiers, all under Varin’s command. The doors slammed shut, sealing us in. I could still hear voices on the other side; the nobles were clearly not dispersing. But now we were out of their sight.

Which meant that other than the guards, there were no witnesses. No one impartial. A shiver ran like sleet down my spine. Our plan had crumbled at the foundations, plunging us into an abyss from which there was no escape. Tatiana was still a captive; now my husband and Marya had been taken prisoner as well; we’d failed to steal the crown. And judging by how bright the eastern horizon was, we had only minutes until sunrise.

Varin turned to me, his eyes cold. “Your Grace. Have a seat.”

I hesitated, my gaze flicking around the room. But the guards stood threateningly close to Catalina and Aric, and I hadn’t a chance of fighting my way through them. If I ran, they’d only catch me, too. Stiffly, I sat in the chair the white-haired noblewoman had vacated. It was still warm.

Varin resumed his seat at the head of the room. His fingers splayed over the chair’s armrests, gripping them possessively.

“This is what will happen.” His voice was sharp, the crack of steel on stone. “In a few minutes, I’m going to summon my advisors back into this room. When they arrive, you, Aric, will confess to murdering our dearest mother. You will formally and totally renounce your claim to the throne and give your blessing to my coronation. Tomorrow, you will be executed for regicide and treason.”

My breath came short and sharp. Varin’s eyes swung towards me, flat as slate.

“And you, Bianca Liliana. Flower of Damaria.” A sneer twisted his lip. “You will sign a revised version of the treaty on behalf of the Council of Nine, binding our nations together and expanding trade for a mutually successful alliance—as per the original terms, a treaty sealed by your marriage to the new king of Gildenheim.”

It was fortunate I was already seated. The ground gave way beneath me, a faint whine singing in my ears.

“No. She won’t.”

Aric’s voice was a lightning strike, drawing all eyes towards him. His gaze was locked on Varin. Sharp and clear and more certain that I’d ever seen him.

Varin arched an eyebrow. “And why is that?”

“Because if those are your terms, I’ll agree to none of your conditions.” The set of Aric’s shoulders was resolute. “I’ll die denouncing you as stridently as I can. People will believe me. Perhaps not all of them, but enough to undermine your claim to the throne. You might have supporters now, but will they still support a bastard who murdered his own kin to clear the way to power?”

A muscle worked in Varin’s jaw. “You speak as if you have a choice. I could simply have you killed right now, in the privacy of this room.”

My hands fisted in my lap, my teeth clenching so tight it hurt. I wanted to scream, and drown courtly manners to the ocean’s depths. But playing the part I’d been taught was the only way out.

Aric’s gaze didn’t waver. “Your closest advisors all saw me taken in. The rumors will have reached half the court by now. Without my public confession, your word is worthless.”

Varin drummed his fingers on the armrests. “What does it matter to you what happens to Bianca? You’ll be executed either way. Cooperating will spare you a good deal of unnecessary pain.”

“Because I love her,” Aric said quietly. He turned to me, seeking my gaze. “And I will do anything it takes to protect her from you, even if it means facing whatever tortures you contrive.”

I stared at him, too shocked to hide my surprise. My lips parted, but only silence emerged.

Aric’s eyes were locked on mine, a silent prayer. I didn’t need a magical bond to know what was in his thoughts. His fear—not for himself, but for me—cut deep into my chest.

“Let Bianca go,” Aric said. “Let her return safely to Damaria, and I’ll do whatever you ask.”

My heart soared and plunged at the same time. Aric loved me. Even knowing me at my weakest and worst, he loved me. He had given me everything in the end, just as he’d sworn—even his heart, laid out bare and bleeding. And his love was worth everything to me in return.

My only regret now was that I hadn’t been brave enough to tell him what was in my own heart when I had the chance.

I stood—careful, measured, to keep my nausea at bay. Two guards moved towards me at once, halberds raised. I didn’t even look in their direction. I was the image of poise. A daughter of House Liliana, as flawless and untouchable as my parents had always wanted.

Aric wasn’t going to die. Not for my sake. Not if I could help it. I was a duchess of Damaria and queen of Gildenheim, and I’d had enough of others deciding my duty and my fate.

“Your Majesty,” I said, deliberately looking at Varin. “I request a private word with Ambassador Dapaz.”

Another look passed between Varin and Evito. Then, curtly, Varin nodded.

“You have five minutes.”

The guards stood back as I walked towards Evito. I gave him a pointed look, and he followed me to the far end of the room. I lowered my voice, switching to Damarian.

“You are the Council’s ambassador to Gildenheim.” I kept my tone flat, armoring myself with my words. “And you have failed abominably at your role. Tell me exactly what you and Lord Varin are playing at before I cut you a new mouth—one that can negotiate better than your current orifice.”

“Your Grace.” Evito’s eyes met mine, earnest and dark. “I understand your anger. I deeply regret that you were held responsible for the attack on the heir apparent, and the difficulties you have faced since. Had I known that Lord Varin would publicly blame you, I would have ensured that our operative waited for a better moment. I assure you of my deepest loyalty and commitment to the Council and House Liliana.”

I drew back, my anger turning into icy shock. “ You sent the assassin?”

Evito’s eyes crinkled with confusion, but his voice remained composed. A courtier born and trained. “Of course, your Grace. As per House Liliana’s orders.”

The ice grew, sending shards through my veins. I’d thought that Varin had arranged the assassin to frame Damaria and take the throne. But I should have guessed from the terms of the treaty that it was crafted in part by a Damarian hand. The same trade that had lifted my country to power was always hungry for wood and iron—for ships, for fuel for the Adepts’ newest weapons. Varin was part of the plot, and he’d been all too happy to take up the crown, but he hadn’t worked alone. The irony—Damaria and Gildenheim truly had been partners in this, all too willing to sacrifice Aric and me to their ploy.

My parents had always been fond of efficiency. Eliminate a queen who had long refused to compromise; improve the trade agreements in Damaria’s favor; put a daughter on the Gilden throne; remove me from the scrutiny of their rivals; depose an heir who would have had qualms about the new trade terms while making a new ally of Lord Varin—all accomplished in the same maneuver. It would have been admirable, if it weren’t so sickening. All of it—the treaty, the marriage, the assassination attempt—had been a plot from the first, a web of strings slowly tightening around me to shape my life to someone else’s design.

“You didn’t know I would be framed for the attempt on Aric’s life,” I clarified, staring at Evito with barely disguised loathing.

“Of course not, your Grace,” Evito assured me. His polite facade was slipping, showing the self-interested worry beneath as my anger deepened. “It was meant to be blamed on Countess Signa—the Council obtained evidence that she was considering instigating a coup after the queen’s death. But Lord Varin is more… impulsive than we had realized, and matters got out of hand. I am certain, however, that your Grace is more than capable of keeping him in check in the future, especially with my expertise at your disposal. I assure you, there will be no further such mistakes.”

My anger turned to resolve and settled along my bones like armor.

“You’re correct,” I said. “There won’t. Consider yourself formally relieved of your duties, Ambassador Dapaz. And get out of my sight.”

I turned my back on Evito, not waiting to watch the shock cross his face, and walked towards Varin with measured strides. As I went, I straightened my shoulders, held my head high, and settled my features into the gilded mask I’d worn all my life.

My parents had been right. A danger lay in forging my own path. In choosing what I wanted, instead of a life defined by duty. I had followed my heart, and now it was being slashed to pieces in my chest. Even worse, it was my own hand that held the blade.

My parents had been right. But they were also entirely wrong. It had been worth it—every moment, every vulnerability. Hearing Aric say he loved me. Knowing I loved him back. I was prepared to don my mask again, wear it the rest of my life to save the man I loved. And doing so would hurt me. But if I was going to bury my heart, at least I’d known the sun. At least I had its memory to warm me.

There would be no war, and Aric would live. That was all that mattered now.

“My lord Varin.” My words came out as smooth and polished as steel. “I propose an alternative solution. Release my guards, beginning with Captain Catalina Espada. They cannot be faulted for following my orders. They will be sent back to Damaria, as will my sister, and treated with dignity. Aric will make his confession as you wish. But instead of execution, he will go into exile and quietly live out his days.” I lifted my chin. “In return, I will remain in Gildenheim to renegotiate the treaty between our countries and see its provisions through.”

Catalina started to protest. I managed not to react as she grunted, one of the guards kicking her to make her be silent. I kept my eyes on Varin instead, not daring to look at my captain or my husband lest my face betray my feelings.

Varin studied me in return, his eyes calculating. “And what do I gain from this alternative solution? I have no guarantee the Council will see things the same way you do.”

“You will be known as a just and merciful king. The sort of monarch the Council of Nine would be pleased to call an ally.” I hardened my voice ever so slightly. A subtle threat. “I might remind you that the Council’s agreement is necessary for the treaty to be ratified. And, as noted, I represent the Council.”

Varin stood and approached me. His eyes, the color of Aric’s but so much colder, narrowed on mine. “I’ll need more guarantee than that, I’m afraid. The original treaty was sealed with a marriage.”

Catalina gave a sharp intake of breath. Every muscle in Aric’s body tensed.

I kept my breath steady. Inhale. Exhale. I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but Varin’s face held no softness, no room for argument.

Very well. I had come to Gildenheim for a political marriage. My future, in exchange for peace—and now for the life of the man I loved.

My voice betrayed none of my inner turmoil. “Accept my terms, and I will divorce Aric and marry you instead.”

Aric finally struggled against the guards. “Bianca, no. You can’t—” His words cut off in a gasp as one of the guards silenced him. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from reacting. If Varin believed I cared for my husband, my bargain would fall apart. He had to believe I was like my parents—that my actions aligned with theirs.

Varin’s eyes narrowed. “Aric says he loves you. Do you not return the sentiment?”

“It’s touching, but I’ve always known that love is a weakness.” I dredged up every ounce of bitterness I’d allowed to fester throughout my life, letting it drip from my words. “Like the Council, I recognize the right alliance when I see it. I’ve studied my history, Lord Varin. I know what kind of man makes a good king. And I know exactly what kind of man my husband is.”

Aric couldn’t hear my thoughts. But I sent them towards him anyway, hoping he would understand. Please hear what I truly mean. I couldn’t look at him or my defenses would shatter, but I felt my husband’s eyes on me. Please know what’s in my heart, even though I never told you when I had the chance. I need you to live. For both of us.

I lifted my chin, meeting Varin’s eyes. “I’ll sign the papers as soon as the coronation is over. Do we have an agreement?”

A beat of tension while he studied me, his suspicions playing out behind his eyes. My fists were tight at my sides. It was the only thing that betrayed me.

“We do.”

Varin held out his hand. I put my fingers in his, the barest touch.

Varin brushed his lips to my knuckles, his eyes not leaving mine. “I look forward to a fruitful union.”

I smiled at him, the expression hurting my face. I look forward to making your life a waking nightmare. “I share your sentiments.”

Behind me, Aric made a soft and broken sound. I couldn’t bear to look at him. I’d done what I had to. The people I loved would be safe. That was all that mattered.

“As my future queen, you will stay here to witness the coronation and formally acknowledge the legitimacy of my rule.” Varin dropped my hand as if it were a piece of carrion and turned to the guards. “Take the prisoners away. I’ll deal with them later. And call the courtiers back. We’ve had enough delays in this coronation.”

“A coronation,” a voice cut in from behind us. “Don’t you need a crown for that?”

The guards’ hands sprang to their weapons. The entire room turned to look in unison.

Standing beside the spyway entrance were a dozen soldiers in full armor. Aric’s personal guard. In their midst stood Marya, saber drawn, her expression promising a painful death to anyone who opposed her.

And beside her—my sister, beaming as brightly as if she’d just arrived at her own birthday celebration, twirling an ornate golden crown from the tip of her finger.

The crown of Gildenheim.