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E vening greeted Cora as she planted her feet in the forest outside Ridine. After removing Valorre’s saddle and stashing it in the underbrush for the time being, she bid him farewell and worldwalked straight to her bedroom. The room was blessedly empty of servants, but it was empty of Teryn too. A wave of vertigo washed over her, and she sank onto the edge of her bed. She had half a mind to curl up under the covers and sleep, but she shook the thought from her head. How many hours had it been since she’d last slept? The time discrepancy between the two realms made it impossible to calculate.

Whatever the case, she reasoned her fatigue was mostly due to worldwalking to different locations in such quick succession. At least that’s what she told herself. In truth, she hadn’t expected to feel so exhausted now that she was no longer traveling with multiple companions in tow. Maybe moving between worlds took an additional toll.

Then how had Darius been able to worldwalk so frequently with multiple soldiers during his attack on El’Ara? Had he rested in between? Or were her abilities weaker than his? True, she’d only learned of her traveling magic last year. Yet the fatigue that weighed down her muscles now begged the question—was her magic growing weaker in general?

Her magic had weakened before, when she’d been trapped in the dungeon with Teryn. She’d been convinced Morkai had suppressed her magic, leaving her connection to it frail. But when she’d searched for the source that had stifled her, she’d found it inside herself. It had stemmed from resentment she’d been carrying over Teryn’s betrayal.

Something pulsed in her heart.

A feeling that said truth .

She placed a hand to her chest, and her palms thrummed in echo of her heartbeat. Did that mean…was she stifling her own magic again?

A leaden weight filled her stomach, and it spoke of her resistance to investigate the source. But why was she resisting? If another challenge was trying to present itself, she had to face it. It was how witches grew their magic, and she needed to be at her strongest. Yet as soon as she tried to soften and yield to look into the dark pull, she saw only flames. Felt only a burning resentment that made her skin crawl, blistering beneath that imagined fire.

She rose to her feet, detaching herself from those thoughts. Investigations into her magic could wait.

Right now, she needed to find her husband.

Teryn thrust his spear, relishing the stretch of his limbs, the burn of his muscles. He pivoted, evading his imaginary opponent’s attack, and slashed down to parry. Another pivot. A longer thrust of his spear. His entire body moved in concert, his stance shifting in precise yet fluid motions, his spear an extension of his arm. He repeated the drill again and again, his only witnesses being the empty suits of armor and racks of weapons that lined the perimeter of the armory.

Ridine’s armory was a windowless hall of mahogany and flagstone with a training floor at its center. This was the only place he could think to go after the latest missive he’d received. The only place he could think to release the anxiety and rage crawling through his body.

King Darius had made his first direct contact with Khero, and it had come in a written demand for surrender. In three weeks, Darius and five thousand men would arrive at a specified location on the Khero-Vinias border. If Khero refused to surrender, they would then proceed to discuss terms for war.

It reminded Teryn too much of Morkai.

The mage’s demands for surrender.

The meeting at Centerpointe Rock.

King Arlous’ resulting death.

Teryn repeated his drill—thrust, slash, thrust—taking pleasure in how it felt to move. To be alive. To not be a hostage this time.

Yet that solace was short-lived. King Darius was now a concrete enemy, not just a man from myth and rumor. There was no denying that he was coming or what he wanted. There was no taking comfort in doubt, in the sliver of possibility that Darius wasn’t a threat like Morkai was, that his alliance with Norun had nothing to do with Khero.

That was the most terrifying part—Darius’ threat didn’t involve him alone. Half his force of five thousand men belonged to Norun. Furthermore, a legion of twelve thousand Norunian soldiers were already marching from the capital and would join Darius should Khero refuse to surrender. Meanwhile, Khero had only four thousand soldiers.

Seven devils, those odds were terrible.

There had been no mention of Darius’ naval fleet, but that was a matter for Vera, not Khero. Teryn was starting to suspect his brother was right. Larylis had posed a theory in a letter he’d sent back with Berol a few days ago. That the prisoner’s words had been a bluff meant to draw Vera’s attention toward a threat that would never come and leave Khero vulnerable.

Not that it mattered much. Even with their combined armies, they would still be outnumbered. Even if Vera supported the fight against Darius, Larylis couldn’t fully dismiss what the prisoner had said. It could have been a lesser misdirection—that the fleet was still coming, but not making landfall in southwest Vera. Which meant Larylis needed to keep some of his soldiers ready in the south.

There was hope in the alliance Cora was forging, but she’d been gone from Ridine for ten days now. It had been nine days since he’d received her letter about going to El’Ara.

Was she still there? Had they found the tear yet?

At least he had some additional intel. He’d been right about Mareleau’s letter to Larylis; she hadn’t been nearly as sparse with details as Cora had been. Larylis had relayed what her letter had included—that the Forest People’s camp had been outside Lake Sarrolin near the village of Brekan. And that they would begin their search for the tear on the western coast.

Teryn would have been livid that she’d divulged so much information during such tumultuous times if it hadn’t provided him such relief. Just knowing vaguely where Cora was had carved leagues of stress from his bones. Besides, he couldn’t give in to the fear that Berol’s letters could be intercepted. That would only lead to madness.

Sweat prickled his forehead as he continued his drill, his mind reeling to come up with countermeasures. Surrender was out of the question, and if Cora didn’t come home soon, he couldn’t count on Elvyn reinforcements.

No, the best scenario was to face Darius’ smaller force. And there was a chance for that. Darius’ letter wasn’t the only one he’d received today. A messenger had also arrived with a brief note from Lex.

It begins on the thirtieth day. Those who’ve been robbed will take back what they’ve lost.

That was all the note had said. It was so carefully yet cleverly worded, Teryn suspected Lily had penned it for her husband. Those two sentences told him everything he needed to know: the Norunian rebels would launch their rebellion on the thirtieth of this month—less than two weeks from now. They would fight to take back Haldor and Sparda, the two kingdoms Norun had conquered. The rebellion would wreak havoc on Norun and delay the progress of Darius’ reinforcements. The King of Syrus would be isolated with only his five thousand men.

With some additional men from Vera, they could be evenly matched.

But Teryn didn’t want even.

He wanted—needed—to win.

Dark thoughts clouded his mind, taking him back to Centerpointe Rock. To Morkai’s dishonorable actions during the meeting. How he’d signaled battle without giving them a chance to negotiate the terms for war. What he’d done made Teryn sick with rage.

Yet as he thrust his spear and imagined his faceless enemy on the other side, he didn’t feel nearly as sick when he considered doing something similar himself.

Darius’ threat was a matter of power, magic, and desperation.

Maybe only equal measures of power, magic, and desperation could lead to victory.

And Teryn had one idea that might allow him to catch Darius unawares. To end the battle before it had begun.

He wasn’t sure he could even do it.

It might damn him to the seven hells.

But if it saved Khero’s future, he’d risk the stain on his soul.