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C ora didn’t bother trying to mask the pound of her heart. Let him hear it. Let him think she was afraid. So long as he couldn’t distinguish the cadence of fear from the pound of anticipation, it didn’t matter if he noticed the spike in her pulse.

The key was masking her eagerness.

“How do you know I’m even apprised of the tear’s location?”

He gave her a withering look. “I know, trust me. And don’t bother deceiving me. I learned enough during my few jaunts to Ridine to understand the general location. Somewhere west of Lake Sarrolin, am I right? On the coast?”

Cora pursed her lips. Yet another reaction she didn’t have to hide. She never should have let Mareleau send letters to Larylis through her and Berol without looking over them first. Then again, back when Mareleau had penned the letter, they’d had no reason to believe there was a spy freely wandering Ridine. The intel had only made it back to the castle because Larylis had shared it with Teryn. Darius must have either overheard one of Teryn’s meetings with their trusted few allies or snuck into the royal study and found his correspondence.

Either way, Darius would not be fooled by taking him far from where he expected her to.

Thank the Mother Goddess she had no plans to.

Darius’ expression darkened. “It isn’t up for debate. You will take me to the tear. If you comply, I will accept your surrender and return to remove my soldiers from your premises. If you deceive or fail me in any way, my men will take Ridine. You have ten minutes before they will act on their own. We can spend that time debating and end this chat in bloodshed, or you can take me to the tear and save your castle. You may have forfeited an alliance with me, but we can still forge favorable terms for your surrender.”

Cora and Teryn exchanged a glance. Her husband’s throat bobbed, worry etched in his expression. He didn’t have to feign that. They may have a plan, but that didn’t mean it was infallible. So much could go wrong.

Teryn reached for her hand and squeezed her fingertips. She squeezed his back in wordless reassurance.

Darius’ sharp tone invaded their moment. “What’s it going to be?”

Cora stepped forward, releasing Teryn’s hand with great reluctance. She burned Darius with a glare and spoke through her teeth. “I’ll take you.”

“Good,” he said, voice tight. He extended his arm. “You can travel with a companion, I presume?”

“I can.” Her gaze dipped to the proffered arm, hating that she had to touch him at all. But touch him she must, if she wanted to take him where he was meant to go. With a deep breath, she closed the distance between them, linked her arm through his, and closed her eyes.

She pictured a cliff’s edge, waves battering the beach far below. She imagined salty wind against her cheeks, the soft give of the grass beneath her feet.

Then she took a step.

And planted her feet in their destination.

She released Darius’ arm at once and leaped a step back. One hand remained open at her side, ready to unsheathe her dagger should he round on her. “Well?” she said, raising her voice over the crash of waves far below and the rioting wind tearing loose tendrils of hair from her braid. “We’re here. I’ve done what you asked, now remove your men from my castle.”

He assessed her through slitted lids. “How do I know you took me to the correct location?”

Her lips peeled into a sneer. “I thought you could sense the tear, being the mora’s rightful ruler and all. Oh…can you not? Ailan could.”

A tic pulsed at the corner of his jaw. “Show me where it is.”

Cora scoffed. “That’s a bad idea. You’ll be torn to shreds as soon as you enter.”

“Then you have nothing to fear. Show me.”

She uttered curses under her breath. “If you insist.” She kept her gaze on him as she skirted past toward the edge of the cliff. The sound of waves grew louder. She halted just before the edge. “I won’t turn my back on you until you provide me some space.”

“You think I’m going to shove you off the edge?”

“Yes, and I’d rather you didn’t.”

He bared his teeth to show his displeasure but extended his arms and walked backward. She waited until he was several feet away before she turned her back to him. Her shields, however, remained down. Sensing.

Extending a hand, she stepped closer to the cliff’s edge and reached into the air like Ailan had done when she’d searched for the tear. Cora shifted her feet to the side, reached farther ahead.

Then she closed her eyes.

Pictured her destination in her mind.

And stepped off the edge of the cliff.

For the second time in two weeks, Teryn was forced to watch the woman he loved disappear with his enemy. He let every ounce of his rage show as he eyed the soldiers Darius had left on the battlement. They wore full armor and helms, obscuring their features. He couldn’t make out their expressions, see if they were terrified or angry, determine whether they were acting out of fierce loyalty or magical compulsion like many of Morkai’s men had.

It didn’t matter, though.

Whether they were wicked enemies or innocent souls with families and loved ones, they’d come to his castle. Threatened his home. His kingdom. His wife.

Soldiers were essential tools for war.

But Darius’ men would die tonight.

Teryn turned away from the enemy squad.

“Don’t move,” called one of the men.

Teryn paused but didn’t bother turning around. “Your king has my wife. You think I’m going to act against him now? Besides, he didn’t leave any orders for me. What harm can I do?”

Only silence answered, so he proceeded once more, past his guards who remained at the ready, swords drawn, eyes locked on the other squad. He stopped only once he reached the wall. Moonlight glinted off the shields hiding the hundreds of bodies filling the castle grounds, illuminating the archers who stood on the wall, awaiting orders to defend or attack.

He breathed deeply and unsheathed the dagger at his hip. Shuffling footsteps and the creak of armor sounded behind him, followed by one of the enemy soldier’s voices. “What is he doing?”

Teryn brought the blade to his palm, laying the flat of it over its center.

“I have the means to signal our attack,” the same man said. “We don’t need to wait the full ten minutes for our king to return. One wrong move, and you’ll lose any chance at escaping this alive.”

“Your king isn’t returning,” Teryn said. Even if Darius did, even if everything went wrong and the King of Syrus returned triumphant, Teryn was determined to greet him with a massacre. A tableau of death.

“Is that a threat?” the soldier said. “Or do you not trust His Majesty to honor his word?”

“It doesn’t matter if he honors his word. My wife won’t be honoring hers.” He angled his head over his shoulder, his lips peeling into a wicked grin.

The soldier huffed a dark laugh. “If that proves true, your reign is at an end.”

“We’ll see.” With that, Teryn turned the blade, slashed its edge over his palm, and closed his fist. Blood dripped from his hand as he thrust his fist toward the wall and the grounds beyond. Then, with a whisper, he said, “My blood. My command. Your final fight begins.”