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I instinctively reached to take her from the woman, cradling the ball of fur to my chest. “Galen, this is the most adorable thing I’ve ever—” I glanced up and cut myself off when I saw the wistful, aching smile on his features as he looked back at me.

Turning to Ronnie and her daughter, he said, “You are far too kind. Thank you for this gift. We’ll give her a good home.”

They left the basket with us and retreated down the steps. Galen and I took our seats again, my new friend already thoroughly licking every inch of skin at my neck and cheeks.

“I had a dog once,” he said, voice soft as he watched the little pup squirm in my arms. “He was a good dog. A hunting dog. He died when I was young. I wanted another one, but when I—when I inherited the curse…” He trailed off and looked away.

“You may keep her, if you wish. She’s already taken a liking to you.

And I can’t… It’s too dangerous. For her and me. ”

A lump formed in my throat, and I swallowed hard to force it down.

I hadn’t even thought about that. About how he couldn’t so much as pet this sweet animal without his gloves.

How he hadn’t felt the true warmth of a touch, whether it be skin or fur, since ascending the throne and bearing this curse.

“You’ll be able to again soon, Galen,” I said firmly. “I promise.”

His sad gaze lingered on me. “I know.”

The next few interactions passed uneventfully.

People gifted us baskets and baskets of fresh produce, bread, and other trinkets.

A little boy ran up to hand me a small bouquet of sunflowers and weeds, which Mia—what I’d chosen to call the pup—promptly tried to make her lunch.

I tied her rope to the leg of my chair so she could roam a few feet into the clearing without getting lost, and she was having a grand time lunging at butterflies and pouncing at flowers.

She was precious. I loved her. She made my dormant fox half ache with joy as I snuck glimpses of her frolicking in her little patch of grass.

“Can I pet her?” a sweet voice asked, drawing my attention back to the line of people. I sucked in a quiet breath when I came face-to-face with Thorne and his daughter. Galen was talking to another family, but these two had snuck out of place to say hello.

From this close, I could see how much she resembled him. While his eyes were light blue like a calm sea and hers were deep brown, they both crinkled at the corner when they smiled. She had his tan skin, the same straight nose and long, dark hair with hints of bronze.

“Why, sure you can,” I said with a smile, bending low to scoop Mia into my arms. She licked my neck as her tail beat against my chest.

“New friend, Empress?” Thorne asked with a smirk, his hand on his daughter’s back.

“ Best friend. Aren’t you, Mia?” I cooed, nuzzling into her soft fur before coaxing the little girl closer. “Here, she’s very friendly.”

“Go on, Marigold,” Thorne said. She looked up at him with a grin, an adorable dimple appearing on her cheek.

Reaching out a hand, she scratched behind Mia’s ears, giggling when she instantly jumped free from my grip and crouched at Marigold’s feet.

Her tail brushed excitedly across the stone of the dais.

“Marigold. That’s a beautiful name,” I commented.

Thorne only had eyes for his daughter as she snuggled her face into Mia’s neck.

“There was a bouquet of yellow marigolds on the bed next to my wife when she gave birth. She labored for twenty-seven hours, and at one point she grabbed the vase and threw it across the room.” He chuckled and scratched his beard.

“When her contraction passed, she looked at the broken glass and flower petals and said, ‘Marigold would be a good name for a girl.’ ”

“She sounds spirited,” I said with a laugh.

“She was.” His lip twitched upward as he gazed at Marigold and Mia, who were both now rolling in the grass to the side of the dais. “And I fear I have my hands full with this one.”

“Well, with parents like you and Iris, what can you expect?” Galen said, finishing his conversation with the family and clapping his friend on the back. “You should have seen Thorne back in the day. ‘Wild’ was his middle name until Iris made an honest man out of him.”

I smirked at the way Thorne’s lips pursed. “I can only imagine. Chase many women through dark gardens, Lord Reaux?” I asked, my eyebrow quirking in a silent challenge.

Thorne gave a lazy, innocent grin. “Only when they don’t ask me to leave.”

Galen looked between us and cleared his throat. “Yes, well, have you and Marigold had a good time at your first Harvest Tournament?”

“The best , Uncle Galen!” Marigold squealed from the ground to my left. When she met her father’s stern look, she leaped to her feet and brushed the blades of grass from her dress. “I mean… Your Majesty ,” she corrected as she scampered up the dais and curtsied to Galen.

“Oh, don’t listen to your father. I’m always Uncle Galen to you,” the king said, crouching low and gently flicking the tip of her nose. I noticed he was still careful to keep his distance—small touches with others here and there, but nothing too close to his skin. Nothing too dangerous.

While Marigold jabbered on to him about her day, I snuck a glance at Thorne. “She’s beautiful,” I said.

A soft smile spread over his face as he crossed his arms. “She’s everything.”

We stood in silence for a moment before I finally asked, “How’s your injury?” I gestured toward his chest, and my fingers accidentally grazed the fabric. A hint of hard muscle met my fingertips. I jerked my hand away.

“It’s healing. It’ll leave a nasty scar, but I hear women like that sort of thing.”

A laugh escaped me. “You can tell them it was a great big bear you fought off. Something more exciting,” I suggested.

“I don’t know. The true story is rather remarkable.” His eyes flicked over me, and I bit down on my bottom lip.

“I really am sorry, you know,” I said quietly. “And I…I never got to thank you the other night. For defending me at dinner.”

He raised an eyebrow. “No scolding for trying to help you this time?”

“I’m sorry about that too,” I admitted. “I guess that’s something I’m not very good at.” I ran my thumb along my index finger and felt the bite of my nail against the pad, imagining sharp claws unfurling like they did in moments of vulnerability. “Letting others help.”

“An apology and a confession,” he said, eyes sparkling with humor. “From a monarch, no less. Hell must be freezing over.”

I held his gaze. “I’m not like any monarch you’ve met before, Lord Reaux.”

“Oh, I know, Empress,” he murmured, reaching for his daughter. When he crossed me, his fingers grazed the side of my hand.

It was quick. Probably unintentional. Barely a breath of skin against mine. But it sent a jolt of lightning up my arm, through my shoulder and into my chest.

“Let’s go, sweetheart,” he said to Marigold. “We shouldn’t take up more of their time.”

“Goodbye, Empress Aris!” Marigold sang, holding out her hand to me. “I really like your puppy!”

I chuckled and bent low. “You’re welcome to play with her anytime. And call me Rissa, yes? Emperor Aris was my father.” I winked up at Thorne, remembering him saying similar words to me the day I met him.

Had that really only been a week ago? I could’ve sworn I’d been in this kingdom longer than that.

I missed Veridia City and my people—the magic, the energy, the dry air that didn’t make it feel like I was wearing a second skin of sweat.

I missed Lark and Chaz. I missed my fox half with a desperation that never faded.

But a soft spot had grown in my heart for Mysthelm, even though I’d barely seen any of it yet.

I loved the exploration and challenges that came with learning new people.

I loved the vibrant colors and unusual clothes and the food .

Fates, the food was good. I loved the smells, how the breeze carried with it notes of salt and sun from the shores not too far away on all sides.

And the scent of sweet grass and leather…

I cleared my throat and stood, watching as Thorne and Marigold walked off and the next citizen in line approached cautiously.

“Your Majesty,” the middle-aged man said, bowing low and exposing a balding spot at the top of his head surrounded by wiry light blond hair.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead with a stained handkerchief.

The poor man looked like he was melting in his heavy brown cloak—an interesting choice in this heat.

“Hello, good sir,” Galen said, sitting back down in his tall chair. “And what is your name?”

The man’s tongue flitted against his lips as his cheeks twitched into an awkward smile. “Tovar, Your Majesty.” He bowed again, his feet shuffling forward another step with the movement.

The hair on the back of my neck stood.

“Have you met Empress Clarissa Aris yet?” Galen swept a hand toward me, and I dipped my head in greeting.

“Haven’t had the pleasure, Your Majesty,” Tovar responded, eyes flitting briefly to me and then over my shoulder to the guard standing at attention. The glance was so brief, I almost missed it.

He’s just nervous , I chided myself. Meeting their king for the first time would make anyone a little anxious. Mia’s nose nudged against my calf, and I leaned forward to scratch her ears, keeping my eyes trained on Galen and the stranger.

Galen tilted his head at the uncomfortable silence that filled the space, examining the man with that same charming smile still on his face. “Well, what can we help you with, Tovar?” he prompted.

“Oh, yes,” Tovar said, jerking forward. “I—I have something for you, King Grimaldi. A gift. You see, I’m a cobbler, and my daughter and I, we—we make shoes.

Well, I do. She used to, until…” He shook his head, licking his lips again as he took another step.

“Anyway, she always made the most beautiful suede shoes, and this was the last pair she ever…” He trailed off once more, his speech becoming more hurried as he went on.

My heart beat a little faster as he reached into the lining of his cloak. I watched the slight tremble in his hands, the way his nose twitched when his tongue flicked out over his lips, how his eyes shifted back and forth over Galen’s body.

Something was wrong.

“Here, Your Majesty.” Tovar’s arm moved, and I clung to the edge of my seat, muscles clenched with a warning I couldn’t place. “For you.” He pulled out a pair of beautiful black suede shoes, with golden buckles shining brightly in the sunlight.

When he handed them to the king, something else glinted.

Steel.

Everything happened so fast.

Tovar’s jaw tightened as Galen reached out to take the shoes. In the blink of an eye, the man plunged his hand into the opening of the right shoe and snatched the handle of the blade.

I lunged from my chair and threw myself into action, kicking the toe of my boot into the back of his knee.

He staggered to the side and whirled to face me, sharp knife in hand.

His features were crazed, his pupils blown out, splotches of red on his pale cheeks.

Mia’s high-pitched barks sounded behind us as he hurled himself toward me.

Tovar was sloppy and inexperienced, operating on emotions instead of skill. I’d fought my fair share of enraged fanatics in my time with the Sentinels—people who acted out of anger, not careful calculation. And this man…he was wild with anger .

Anger made people stupid. It made them careless. But it also made them dangerous.

With a growl, he swiped at my neck with his blade.

I reared back and brought my hand down on his wrist to block his attack.

The knife clattered to the ground as I drove my other fist into his stomach, making him double over with a groan.

The guards behind our chairs rushed forward, yanked Tovar to his feet, and pulled his arms behind his back so quickly, I heard his shoulder pop out of place.

The sound…

I gritted my teeth against my blurring vision, focusing on my racing adrenaline and the danger of the moment to keep me grounded. Present. I could feel soft fur rubbing against exposed skin at my ankle, Mia’s body trembling while her yaps filled the air.

Tovar’s eyes locked on mine before they pulled him away. With a sound that bordered on a whimper, he whispered hoarsely, “Do you know what he’s done? The man you stand beside?”

Galen shot to his feet, brows creased in fury. “I have done nothing to you. But you will suffer the consequences for this attack.” He flicked a hand at the guards, wrath radiating in waves from his tall frame.

Tovar’s eyes flashed. A ripple of emotion crossed his features. Determination, vengeance, longing, misery. He struggled against the guards’ hold on him before spitting at Galen’s feet.

“My name is Tovar Printh. And you murdered my daughter.”