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M areleau jolted awake at…something. Had it been a sound? Had Noah cried? A glance at the bassinet beside her bed told her he was still asleep. With a sigh, she rolled back onto her pillows. She hadn’t been dozing for long, as she’d only begun her nap after Noah had fallen asleep. Now that she was awake, a plethora of unwelcome feelings settled over her. Unending fatigue. Bitterness at being excluded from her best friend’s wedding. Ever-darkening resentment over the prophecy. Anger at not being able to leave her room.

“Did you hear that?” her mother asked as she swept into her bedroom from the sitting room.

“Hear what?”

Brow furrowed, Helena approached one of the windows and peered out. “I thought I heard something. An animal, perhaps.”

Now that she thought about it, she had startled awake at something. “It was probably just a bear in the woods.”

The words dried on her tongue as soon as she said them. They reminded her too much of when she’d said nearly the same thing before she came face to face with Morkai’s monstrous Roizan. A creature that wore her father’s face…

“This place isn’t suitable for you and Noah,” Helena said, scowling at the landscape.

Mareleau said nothing in Ridine’s defense. After being stuck in her suite over the last few days, she was starting to regret every kind word she’d said about the castle, every way in which she’d defended it to her mother. It was starting to look much like it had when she’d arrived last summer, dreary and sinister despite its new furnishings. Even her emotions harkened back to how she’d felt then.

Useless.

Helpless.

A pawn on a game board.

This time, instead of her father moving the pieces, it was fate.

Destiny.

Her faceless nemesis.

She clenched her jaw at her own futility. If only she had someone corporeal to rail at, to rebel against, then perhaps she wouldn’t feel this crushing weight on her chest?—

A soft cry emptied her mind. Tenderness softened her edges as she rose from the bed and greeted her awakening son. Just looking at him reminded her she wasn’t useless. She had a purpose. Fate be damned, her purpose was to raise her son.

For what? For whom? some part of her taunted, forcing her to confront the fact that the prophecy wanted Noah to be some destined king of the Elvyn. Their Morkara.

She internally scoffed. If fate wanted her son, it would have to go through her first. It would have to greet her face to face and drag her and Noah onto their destined path.

Mareleau would not be weak. She would not give in to her darker emotions or the ones that made her feel small. She’d stand tall and proud and remember that she’d gotten everything she’d wanted through her own means, and she’d do it again.

A smile curled her lips as she lifted her son from his bassinet. At the feel of him in her arms, a warm yet tender fire filled every part of her. It was enough to burn away the dregs of jealousy over Larylis attending the wedding without her. At least they could leave once it was over and all the guests had departed.

She bounced Noah in her arms and brought her face close to his. “I can’t wait to bring you home,” she said in a sing-song voice. A tone she never would have imagined using in the past.

“I still don’t understand why we didn’t leave with your ladies and midwives,” Helena said, eying Mareleau with a questioning glance. “If there’s a spy here, wouldn’t it be safest if we’d left?”

Mareleau pursed her lips. Teryn had come up with a lie to keep Helena quiet, telling her they suspected a spy from Norun may have infiltrated the castle with one of their guests to attend the ceremony. According to his story, it wouldn’t be safe to admit Noah had been born here, in case the spy sought revenge on Vera for the death of Prince Helios. Mareleau had done nothing to refute Teryn’s tale, for only the truth would suffice, and she wasn’t ready to give it.

“You know why,” Mareleau said, keeping her voice level. “The coach with my ladies will serve as a decoy. Once they send word that they’ve arrived at Dermaine, we’ll know Teryn’s suspicions were unfounded. It’s merely a precaution.”

Helena made a flustered sound and turned back to the window. “To think Norun could seek to target us at all.”

It was an unsettling thought, and it wasn’t far from the truth. She’d learned about the threats Cora had uncovered. Even though Norun’s attention seemed fixed more on Khero than Vera, that didn’t mean they held Vera blameless. And that was without considering the alliance Norun was forging with Syrus—an island kingdom not too far across the Balma Sea. If King Darius sought to invade, he could do so by sea, and the nearest shore he’d find belonged to her kingdom.

A shudder rippled through her, but she tore her thoughts from such troubling matters and focused all her attention on her son once more. He’d ceased crying and was blinking his tiny eyelids. Her smile grew wide as she watched the little furrow on his brow, one he always seemed to get when he was looking up at her. Or whatever he could see of her. She brought her face closer and kissed his soft forehead. Breathing deep, she inhaled the sweet scent of him, and peaceful joy settled over her.

This was love. This was happiness. This was the culmination of everything she’d fought for, without even knowing it.

“You’re so good with him.” Helena’s voice stole her attention. There was a wistful note to it. Helena’s expression was soft and open, something Mareleau rarely got to see, and when Mareleau met her mother’s eyes, they were glazed with tears. “You’re better than I was with you. You’re more attentive. More involved.”

Mareleau wasn’t sure what to say to that. Helena had tried—and failed—to convince her to employ a wet nurse. She’d pressed the matter for months during Mareleau’s pregnancy, insisting it was proper for a queen, that royal women didn’t nurse their own children, and some didn’t even see their children more than once or twice a day. Mareleau had only grown angrier and angrier, and Helena had eventually given up. It was strange that Helena was now praising the actions she’d once deemed unqueenly.

“I don’t know if I’ve said it out loud,” Helena said, “but I think you’re going to be a wonderful mother. You’re already a wonderful queen and…and a wonderful daughter.”

The tenderness in her voice cracked Mareleau’s heart. It weakened her, speared her with guilt over the lies she kept. She’d been determined to have a somewhat less volatile relationship with her mother, but they still had many broken bridges to mend before they could have anything like a true mother-daughter bond. Yet her mother’s words closed some of that distance, bound some of what had been broken. Helena was taking the first step. Was it time for Mareleau to take the next? There was only one thing she could think to close her end of the chasm.

Tell the truth.

About her lie.

About her guilt in her father’s death.

About the prophecy.

It terrified her to state even a word of confession regarding any of these subjects. And yet…

She could start with one small truth, couldn’t she?

“Mother, I...”

Helena took a step closer. “Yes, dearest?”

Mareleau took a trembling breath. “I didn’t conceive during the Heart’s Hunt.”

Her mother gave her a sad smile. “I know. I can do math as well as your midwives can. You did what you had to do. I understand that now.”

Relief coursed through her. That wasn’t so bad. In fact…it was sort of good. Could she confess even more? Put her guilt to words? Tell Helena the truth about how King Verdian had died?

She took another deep breath. “When Father came here for the signing of the peace pact?—”

Her words were swallowed by a sharp sound, one that made both women jump. A shadow fell over the room, there one moment and gone the next.

“That’s the same sound,” Helena said, whirling back to the window. “What in the seven devils was that?”

Mareleau cradled Noah close to her chest and approached the window beside her mother. The sound echoed through her ears, a chilling screech she’d never heard before. It wasn’t the roar of a bear. It wasn’t even the bellowing cry of the Roizan. It was louder. Sharper. And so very wrong.

A rhythmic sound reached her ears next, a pulsing thud from overhead. It drew closer. Louder. The room seemed to shake with the beat.

Then another shadow darkened the room, and this time they saw its source.

A winged creature soared over the castle, far too large for anything that should be airborne. Far too terrifying to even exist. Its body was long and sinuous, covered in pale, opalescent scales. Its wings were comprised of white feathers. So fast it flew past, becoming a pinprick in the distance in a matter of seconds.

Mareleau swallowed hard, hoping that was the last she’d see of it.

Yet that hope was futile, for the creature drew near once more, from a speck to a distinct shape, soaring straight toward the keep. She saw its face then, a massive scaly thing framed by more white feathers, its terrifying snout trailing long whiskers. It flew by the window, and Mareleau and Helena leaped back.

Helena released a yelp of alarm. “That thing…was that a…”

Mareleau knew the word her mother was trying to find. It seared her throat as she finished for her. “A dragon.”