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F or two days, they traveled northwest for the Cambron Pass. They kept a decent pace with Cora riding Hara. After throwing most of Helios’ personal items into the campfire, she’d kept all his useful belongings and took his mare for herself. She was surprised the animal was so amenable to new ownership. Based on the many snide remarks Teryn and Lex had made about Helios, she’d assumed his horse perhaps wouldn’t respect her. Hara, however, was as even tempered as Cora could hope. Valorre took it upon himself to remind her who was the better of the two of them, and Cora always made certain to reassure him that, yes, he was the most magnificent and fearsome creature of hoof and mane.

Berol flew overhead, sometimes going so far as to become a pinprick in the distance, other times diving for prey or riding on Teryn’s shoulder. She was curious about the prince’s relationship with the bird. Not enough to ask him about it, of course. She made it her mission to speak as little as possible to the boys. The less they knew about her, the better, and she had no interest in getting to know them. They were temporary allies, not friends.

By the end of the second day of travel, the Cambron Mountains loomed large ahead. On the third, Cora found the first notable tracks.

She felt her nerves begin to fray the closer they came. Taking down the first group of hunters had been a harrowing enough experience. Now she was going to do it all over again. This time she had help, although it was still up for debate whether they would prove useful.

Each night, Cora’s exhaustion was so deep that she’d fall asleep within minutes of bedding down on her newly acquired bedroll. Her slumber was—thankfully—deep and dreamless. But on the third night, after a day of tracking, stalking, and inching closer to her prey, she dreamed.

The nightmare started much like any other. She walked down a dark castle hall, following the pull of some terrible wrongness. Every step sounded hollow in her ears. The smell of dust and rot filled her nostrils, tickling the back of her throat. She walked forward, for that was the only direction that existed in this strange dream. A few steps more and a serving tray appeared in her hands. Then the door. That horrible, dreaded door.

She knew what she would find inside. This time, she didn’t fight it. This time, she ran for it, knowing the sooner she saw the room the sooner this dream would end. Her feet flew beneath her as she reached the threshold. Even though she’d known what she’d find, the sight of the dead queen still took her breath away. She froze in the doorway, the tray slipping from her hands. Morkai stood at Queen Linette’s side, his hands drawing the blood from the sheets, from her lips, from under her nose. Blood that seeped from no visible wound. He stopped and whipped his head toward her, and the scene shifted in an instant. Morkai wasn’t manipulating the blood, he was gesturing out of shock or panic. Part of Cora knew that wasn’t right, knew what she’d seen was real. But another part of her doubted. Doubted enough that when he called her over to help the queen, she obeyed. She gathered Linette’s cold hand in hers, uncaring that the woman’s blood was now smeared over her own palms.

The voice came next. One she expected but was startled by just the same.

King Dimetreus let out a soft wail as his eyes landed on his wife. His hand flew to his chest as he halted in the doorway. “What have you done?”

Morkai whispered to the king, “You recall what she said to the queen earlier.”

“No,” Cora said, rounding on them. She shuddered as the word left her mouth. There was something wrong about the way it failed to echo through the room. As if her voice didn’t belong there. “I didn’t mean it.”

King Dimetreus gave no indication that he’d heard her. Instead, he rushed to her, anger replacing his anguish. “You did this. You . What have you done?”

Cora trembled before the king’s rage. She knew what would happen next. Knew a dark cell awaited her. A demand for her death.

“No.” The word was louder this time. She pinned the king with a glare. “No. This time, you will listen to me. I didn’t do this. It was him.” She pointed a finger at Duke Morkai. Her gaze shot to him, meeting his eyes. They shifted from an all-encompassing black to a blue so pale it was almost silver. His lips slid into a lazy smirk.

Returning her gaze back to the king, she was startled to find him frozen. Not just unmoving, but unbreathing, unblinking.

Morkai stepped up beside King Dimetreus. “You can’t change the past by altering your dreams.”

She clenched her jaw. A strange sense of duality washed over her as her hands balled into fists—fists that felt too small and too large at once, as if she were both the twelve-year-old version of herself that existed in her nightmares and her current self. The one who slept. Who dreamed. Who raged against this scene from the confines of her mind.

“You never fought against your sentence in the past,” Morkai said.

“I was too shocked,” she replied, her older voice mingling with her younger.

“It’s useless. Besides, regardless of what you think, this was your fault.”

“It wasn’t. You did this.”

Morkai waved his hand and the bedroom disappeared. Like an inkblot spreading over parchment, a new scene began to appear. Little by little, the colors grew brighter, her surroundings sharper. Her blood went cold when she realized where she was.

The dining hall at Ridine Castle formed around her. Its stone walls were decorated in intricate tapestries. The light from half a dozen candle-studded chandeliers cast everything in a warm, cheery glow. The tables were overflowing with courtiers dining, chatting, and drinking. Cora strode straight to the head table at the far wall. She knew she was late. It had been intentional. Her headaches had been coming on harder recently, and whenever she was forced to be around so many people, they became nearly crippling. No physician seemed to know what was wrong with her. There was no visible ailment. No disease of the body to treat. When she’d speak of feeling like she was being invaded by the hearts and minds of everyone around, she’d receive only unsettled stares. She’d hoped she could wait out the course of tonight’s dinner, but Master Benedict had found her curled up beneath a staircase. Now she had no choice.

Master Benedict kept his hand on Cora’s shoulder as she approached the table, his grip a reminder that there was no running away. She owed the king and queen an explanation, he’d said. Wincing at the pounding in her head, she lowered into a curtsy. She returned her eyes to the king and queen, bracing herself for the scolding. There wasn’t one. Dimetreus was deep in conversation with Duke Morkai while Linette stared pointedly at her husband, her distaste in being ignored made clear by her pursed lips. Finally, Dimetreus turned from Morkai and gestured Cora closer to the table. Before he could say a word to her, Linette interrupted. “When shall we have a ball, my love? You promised me a ball this month.”

The king claimed his wife’s lips with a kiss. “You shall have a ball, darling, but not until our son is born. You are in no condition to dance. After he’s made his appearance in the world, we’ll celebrate. We’ll have balls night after night until he’s a year old. Then we’ll host the finest party anyone this side of the Balma Sea has ever witnessed.”

Linette’s expression faltered as she shifted awkwardly in her seat.

“What is it?” the king asked.

“It’s…oh, it’s nothing.” She batted her lashes and infused her tone with nonchalance. “It’s just…I’m not very far along. Surely I can dance. I’d hate to let my newest gown go to waste before I grow too large to wear it.”

The pounding in Cora’s head increased, but the invasive energies shifted. They were no longer coming from the rows and rows of tables behind her but the one she stood before. Against her will, her attention focused on one person alone. Queen Linette. Cora felt a rippling anxiety turn in her stomach, a feeling that was not her own. With it came a sinking weight of guilt. Then something darker. Heavier.

“You aren’t with child.” The words left Cora’s mouth before she could swallow them back. She hadn’t yet learned which of her observations were better left unsaid. Had yet to understand why everyone else seemed blind to the things she gleaned so easily. So unwillingly.

Queen Linette’s head whipped toward Cora. “How dare you say such a thing.”

“It’s true.” Her voice came out tremulous. “You…you’re lying. You were never with child.”

“You wretched, awful creature?—”

King Dimetreus held up a hand, silencing his wife. Master Benedict began to tug Cora away, but Dimetreus shook his head. His attention narrowed on Cora, voice soft. “Why would you say such a thing?”

Linette spoke before Cora could. “How many times have I told you, Dimetreus? She needs to be sent to a Godspriest. There’s something wrong with her. She’s infected by the seven devils and must have them cleansed from her soul.”

Cora felt heat rise to her cheeks. “I do not need a Godspriest,” she said, a frantic note to her voice. “I am not infected by the seven devils.”

Linette looked around the dining hall. Cora was suddenly aware that silence had fallen over the room. She could feel the attention of innumerable pairs of eyes boring into her back. Linette spoke softly through her teeth. “Don’t make a scene.”

Cora’s attention darted to Dimetreus. Why wasn’t he speaking up for her? Tears sprang to her eyes as her blood began to boil like never before. It felt as if the energies she’d absorbed were compounding, the tightness in her skull growing sharper. She could still feel the queen’s emotions the most, could feel her fear mixed with disgust, her guilt and her shame and so many things that Cora was too young to understand. “Tell him the truth,” she yelled. “Tell him that you lied.”

Linette rounded the table and grabbed Cora by the arm. “You rotten little witch.”

Cora shrugged free, her breaths coming out in sobbing gasps. “I’m not a witch.” That word had been a filthy thing then, something spoken with disdain. Cora hadn’t yet learned that witches were real, that they were nothing like the storybook monsters she’d heard about.

Linette dragged her away from the table. “You are a witch,” she muttered under her breath, all the while keeping a smile on her lips.

Cora glared up at her. She made no move to lower her voice as she said, “If I’m a witch, then I curse you.”

Linette dropped her arm like she’d been burned. Her chest heaved, eyes roving the room and the eyes that continued to watch them. “Stop,” she said, tears springing to her eyes. The queen shuddered. She was truly afraid of her. It was written in the emotions Cora sensed, writhing, contracting, spilling deeper into her until she felt like her head would explode.

She erupted with a shout. “I curse you to die.”

Without another word, she kicked up her heels and ran from the dining room.

She crossed the threshold, desperate for the relief of the quiet halls.

But the doorway only led her to a room with a bloodstained bed.

“No,” she breathed. The room was as frozen as it had been when she’d left it. The king remained locked in place, the queen staring sightlessly ahead. Only she and Morkai moved.

“You did that,” he said.

“I didn’t mean it,” Cora said. This time, her voice was her own, without a hint of her younger self. “Even if I had, it wasn’t a true curse. Witches don’t curse people.”

“How do you know? You spoke the words, sent them out into the ether. She died that very night.”

“You killed her,” Cora said through her teeth.

“Yes, but what if it was your fault? What if your words sparked a series of events that resulted in her death? Is it really so improbable? You killed the queen. You let Princess Aveline die. Deny it.”

She opened her mouth to say she wasn’t a murderer, but the words turned to ash on her tongue. The version of her that existed outside the dream had ended seven lives mere days ago. Erwin with an arrow to his throat. The hunters who drank her rum.

Morkai took a step closer. The lantern light glinted off the sharp planes of his face, making him look both beautiful and terrifying at once. “Maybe Linette was right all along. Maybe you’re an evil thing. You kill without remorse. You choose death, violence, and solitude over the safety of a new home. You lied to people who loved you. Turned your back on your dearest friend without even a goodbye.”

Her legs began to tremble as she tried to put more distance between herself and Morkai.

“Maybe you’re even worse than me.” With a flutter of his fingers, the room began to dissolve again, this time under swirling shadows. They crawled down her throat, filled her lungs, raked talons over her heart. Black filled her vision as she struggled to free herself from the strangling dark mist. No matter how she fought, where she turned, she was pinned in place. The shadows refused to abate. They simply pressed harder. Harder. Squeezing her lips like a kiss of death.

Cora.

Cora.

“Cora!” The sound of her name made her body go still.

Her muscles ached as if she’d run for miles, as if she’d thrashed and raged in her sleep the same way she’d done in her dream. She blinked into the night, but her eyes were glazed with tears, casting everything under a blur. Something heavy was still pressed to her mouth, the smell of sweat and soil filling her senses. It was wrong. Foreign. Her mind struggled to remember.

Where am I? Where am I?

Then she remembered. Somewhat.

Her body went limp, and the heavy thing left her mouth. A hand. She waited only a beat before reaching for her belt and unsheathing her knife. With her free hand, she thrust outward, striking blindly with her palm. A gasp followed, then a thud, and she shoved all of her weight into the other body until she felt it collapse beneath her. She blinked again and again to rid the glaze of tears from her eyes. When her vision finally cleared, she found Teryn looking back at her, eyes wide with surprise. He was flat on his back while she straddled his stomach, her knife at the base of his throat. She felt a slice of wind beat her cheek. As she turned her head to the side, she caught sight of a dark shape darting for her.

“Berol, no,” Teryn said.

The falcon pulled out of her dive and lifted into the sky. Cora saw Berol’s shadow cross the moon as she circled overhead.

She returned her gaze to Teryn, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. Their eyes locked.

“What are you doing?” Teryn asked, voice low, calm, steady. His eyes, however, revealed a tinge of fear.

“What were you doing?” she said, her words uneven, frantic. “You had your hand over my mouth.”

“You were screaming.”

She shuddered, reminded of her dream, the shadows that had tried to strangle her. “You had no right to touch me.”

The fear left his eyes, replaced with indignation. “You wouldn’t wake. Your screams nearly gave me a heart attack. I thought you were being murdered.”

“So you decided to smother me in my sleep.”

“I called your name a hundred times. The last thing I could think to do was muffle your shouts while I tried harder to wake you. Would you rather I let you carry on? I’m sure the hunters we’re supposed to be sneaking up on would only be too happy to follow the source of a distressed woman’s cries. And not to aid her, either.”

That sent a spike of alarm through her. She lifted her chin, staring down at him with a glare. “Don’t you dare touch me like that again.”

He scoffed. “Do you think I wanted to? Do you think I took pleasure from it?”

The word pleasure sparked the memory of how his palm had felt on her shoulder. Her heart thumped heavily in her chest and sent a wave of heat to her cheeks.

His eyes landed on the very shoulder in question. When his eyes returned to hers, his lips quirked with a suggestive smirk. “Trust me, if I wanted to touch you, you’d know. And if I took pleasure from it, so would you.”

Her breath caught, and something trilled low in her belly. She was stunned silent, her knife trembling in her hand. Without her permission, her eyes dipped to his lips, taking in their sensuous curve, the dimple at one corner. His smile slipped, an uncertain expression crossing his face. She was entranced as his lips parted, some word poised on them?—

“Oh, for the love of the seven gods, get a room.” Lex turned over on his bedroll.

Cora’s eyes flew to the other man. Valorre stood off to the side, rippling with something that struck Cora like a snicker.

“No canoodling,” Lex muttered, back facing them. “If I hear gasps or moans or even kisses, I’m going to throw rocks at your heads.”

Cora returned her gaze to Teryn. She stiffened, realizing the impropriety of their position. He was on his back. She was on top of him. Sure, a knife’s blade was between them, but…

She had to stifle her gasp of surprise when she realized where his hands were—at the base of her waist. Had they been there the whole time? He could have shoved her off him, and perhaps that was what he’d been prepared to do. But also…

Also …

It looked like so much more. For the tiniest splinter of a moment, it had— maybe —felt like more too.

She pushed off of him as fast as she could, nearly stumbling in the process. He rose much slower, his eyes never leaving hers. Then, trembling with rage, she stomped off, feeling his gaze follow her every step.