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F or the first time in six years, Cora was dressed in a gown. She assessed herself in the mirror, startled by her own reflection. The last time she’d seen her full reflection was in this very mirror in this very room—her childhood bedroom. She’d been shorter then. Thinner. Paler. Softer. Now her skin had been browned by the sun, her arms chiseled with firm muscle built by her archery practice.

Her eyes swept over the gown. The skirts were layers of emerald-green silk trimmed with black lace while the bodice was sage brocade. The sleeves ended at her elbows and trailed more lace down her forearms. Cora felt a sharp pang of longing in her heart. This had been her mother’s dress. As soon as the gown had been delivered to her bedroom an hour before, she’d recognized it. It had come with a letter written in her brother’s familiar script, insisting she wear it and join him for dinner. It was so much like something that would have happened in her youth—her brother delivering a dress and extracting a promise that she’d attend some public function on her best behavior—that she could almost pretend she’d never left Ridine.

For a splinter of a moment, she let herself imagine the last six years had been full of nothing more than mundane activity. Dances. Dinners. Greeting dignitaries, courtiers, and guests. She pretended her brother hadn’t accused her of murder. That Morkai had never come into their lives after their parents died, hadn’t gained Dimetreus’ favor and friendship, which would eventually drive a wedge between the king and everyone close to him.

In that split-second fantasy, Cora felt peace. Joy, even. Then her gaze drifted to her eyes, and the illusion shattered. Her eyes were too haunted to belong to a princess. Not to mention her tangled hair that made a mockery of her lovely gown. She’d been delivered an ewer of hot water for a bath, but she’d need a long soak in a tub to untangle her hair. In the end, she’d settled for a messy plait down her back. Loose strands were already slipping free around her face.

A knock sounded at her door, making her jump. A guard’s deep voice rumbled from the other side. It was time for dinner.

Time to see her brother.

Cora stopped outside the closed doors to the dining hall. The two guards who had shadowed her as she’d made her way down the familiar path stepped before her now, each reaching for a handle. She held her breath as they pulled the doors open. A shudder of fear ran through her.

The last time she’d been inside this room had been…

Had been…

I curse you to die .

She closed her eyes and forced the memory away. When she opened them again, the dining hall spread out before her. Her stomach sank at seeing it so empty. She’d been somewhat surprised to find the halls so vacant as she’d made her way here, but she’d assumed the servants had been busy with dinner. But that couldn’t be true, for inside the dining hall, every table was empty save the head table. Only the back half of the room was lit by the lamps that lined the walls. The chandeliers overhead bore only cobwebs as if they hadn’t been dressed with candles in years.

“Darling Aveline,” a familiar voice said from the far end of the room.

Her eyes shot to the head table where three figures sat—Morkai, Lex, and…Dimetreus. Her heart skittered, then froze, skittered, then froze, as if it didn’t know what to do as she looked at her brother. The last time they’d been face-to-face, he’d grabbed her by the arm and ordered his guards to haul her into a dungeon cell. But his voice was so warm and kind now. So much like the brother she used to love. Her throat constricted as she forced her trembling legs to move. Her eyes never left her brother’s as she drew near, but with every step, concern began to darken her heart.

Dimetreus Caelan looked at least twenty years older than the version that existed in her memories and nightmares. His eyes were rimmed with shadows, lined with creases, his lips pale. Uneven blotches of color marred what used to be his golden-tan skin. His hair, once thick and black, was now sparse, shot with white beneath his crown. He was dressed in his violet royal coat, but she noticed how it hung loose on his frame as he rose to his feet. Morkai, outfitted in the same black and gold coat he’d worn earlier that day, stood as she approached the dais. Lex belatedly followed. Dimetreus spread his arms wide and gestured for her to take a seat next to him. Her breaths were sharp and shallow as she claimed the chair, and the men returned to their seats. Morkai sat at the king’s right while Lex was at Cora’s left.

Lex leaned in close and frantically whispered, “If someone doesn’t explain what the hell is going on, I’m going to go mad.”

She looked over at him, surprised to find he must have had a full bath. His blond hair was clean and brushed away from his face. His clothes were clean too but showed obvious signs of wear from his travels. The ruffled front of his shirt was tinged yellow while his waistcoat and jacket bore several frayed seams.

“Music,” Dimetreus said, snapping his fingers.

Cora startled as strains of harp emanated from the back corner of the room. She hadn’t noticed the woman sitting there until now, but the harpist began to play, a serene smile on her lips.

“That’s better,” the king said. “Ah, and here’s our final guest. Just in time, for I’m certain dinner is soon to arrive.”

Cora’s eyes shot to the figure entering the room. Her heart hammered, fluttered, hammered, fluttered. Again, the fickle organ seemed confused. She supposed it wasn’t the only thing confused, for even her feelings shifted from fiery rage to an absurd sense of relief as Teryn walked toward the dais. She blamed her confusion on the unexpected change in his appearance. He was no longer dressed in leather britches and his hunting vest. Instead, he wore evening attire—black pants, white waistcoat, a ruffled shirt with a white neckcloth, and a black frock coat. She assumed the outfit had been borrowed from her brother, based on how the coat strained across his broad shoulders. His hair, like Lex’s, was freshly washed and neatly styled, a slight curl to his dark tresses. She couldn’t suppress her shock. It had been easy to ignore that he was a prince when they were in the woods, but now…there was no denying what he was.

Cora resisted the urge to smooth out her hair.

“Prince Teryn,” Dimetreus said in greeting. “You are a true hero.”

Teryn’s face flashed with confusion before he bowed. “King Dimetreus.” His eyes slid to Cora, and she realized she was still staring at him. He bit a corner of his lip as if he was desperate to say something. She only narrowed her eyes to a glare.

“Come,” the king said, “join us.”

He kept his gaze locked on Cora’s a breath longer, then strode up to the table and claimed the only remaining seat—to the right of Morkai.

Soon after, a pair of servants entered, far fewer than she’d ever seen attend one of the king’s meals before. Where was everyone? Where were the maids? Where was Master Benedict, the castle’s steward? The servants’ faces were slack, eyes dull and glossy as they filled the plates with food and the glasses with wine. Lex dove in at once, but Cora could hardly bring a bite to her lips. Her stomach was tied too tightly in knots. There was so much she wanted to say, so much she needed to ask her brother, but she could do none of it with Morkai sitting so close. She’d have to find a way to get him alone.

She glanced at Dimetreus and found him looking right back. “Eat, sister. You must be starving after everything you’ve been through.”

His expression was so kind, so full of concern, that she couldn’t help but bring a spoonful of soup to her mouth just to appease his worry. She hardly tasted it, for her mind was wrapped around what he’d said. It was the first indication he’d given to suggest her appearance at dinner was anything but a pleasant-yet-not-unusual surprise. He’d expressed no shock over seeing her alive, shed no tears over how she’d aged, harbored no residual scorn over having once thought she’d murdered his wife.

She finished another sip of soup before facing Dimetreus. “After everything I’ve been through?” she asked, infusing her tone with only mild curiosity. She chose her next words carefully. “How much do you know?”

She could almost feel Morkai’s stare burning straight through her brother, but she kept her gaze on the king. Dimetreus’ expression fell. “A grave injustice was done to you, Aveline. I hope you believe that, had I known you were still alive, I would have come for you. Even when I thought you were lost along with my dearest Linette, I worked to avenge you. I still work to avenge you.”

Her blood went cold with dread. “How are you working to avenge me?”

“Don’t you worry, sister, Selay will pay for what they’ve done.”

“Selay.” Cora and Teryn uttered the word in unison.

“Yes,” Dimetreus said. He took a deep drink of wine and turned toward Teryn. “If not for you rescuing my sister, I would have still thought Menah was involved.”

“Involved with what?” Cora asked, drawing her brother’s attention back to her.

“Involved with…” His throat bobbed. When he spoke next, his voice was strained. “I hate to even think about it. How Selay sent a spy into our midst, someone I unwittingly let get so close to my wife while I…” He slammed his fist on the table, making Cora jump. “That wretched maid. She took them from me. Linette and our unborn baby. I hadn't known. I hadn’t…hadn’t…”

Morkai put a placating hand on the king’s shoulder. “At least your sister is alive.”

“Yes,” Dimetreus said, collecting his composure. “It’s a miracle you managed to escape them. Thanks to Prince Teryn, our new ally.” He raised his cup to Teryn.

Cora caught Teryn’s eye. His expression was bewildered but she could sense that he simmered with a suppressed rage that almost matched her own. Who could he be so angry with? This whole ordeal was his fault. Wasn’t he exactly where he wanted to be?

Teryn raised his glass in return, his gaze sliding to Morkai. “I helped her escape.” It was a question without a question mark.

“Yes,” Morkai said. “You rescued her from Selay, where she’d been held captive for six years.”

Dimetreus nodded along. Cora’s stomach turned.

“Am I the only one who feels like they woke up on the wrong side of reality?” Lex said, setting down his fork with a clatter. “Nothing that any of you have said tonight makes a damn lick of sense.”

Dimetreus furrowed his brow and studied Lex as if seeing him for the first time.

Cora took a deep breath. “He’s right, Dimi, I wasn’t?—”

“I wouldn’t try and confuse him,” Morkai said, pinning her with a warning glare. “He gets very upset when he’s confused.”

Dimetreus blinked a few times, then shook his head as if to clear it. He downed another drink of wine and released a dark chuckle. “He’s right. I’ve been having…struggles with my memory as of late. I can’t handle too much information or excitement at once. Which is why His Grace has been such a boon to me these last several years. He might as well be my whipping boy, but you won’t hear him complain.”

Cora’s eyes slid to the duke’s, taking in his smug grin. She remembered what he’d said in the coach after she’d mentioned how loyal he was to her brother.

Or does he serve me in every way?

“I don’t like how grim the mood has become,” Dimetreus said. “This is supposed to be a celebration. A joyous reunion. I’ve missed you dearly, Aveline.” He faced her with a wide grin. There was a sweet quality to his expression that almost made him look like the version of him she remembered. But the closer she examined, the more she saw his facade fraying at the edges. His eyes were glazed over with a shimmer that nearly obscured the brown of his irises. She opened herself to his emotions, sensed a low hum of something…muffled. Suppressed. Confused. She could hardly make out a clear emotion, just a clash of vague impressions.

“I’ve missed you too,” she said over the lump in her throat.

He clapped his hands, the sound far too loud for the quiet room. “I want to see my sister dance.” Cora opened her mouth to protest, but Dimetreus shouted to the harpist, “A waltz.”

“Dimi, please,” she said, heat rising to her cheeks. “I can’t. It’s been too long.”

“I insist,” he said, oblivious to her discomfort.

“But—”

“Do not deny His Majesty,” Morkai said. “You wouldn’t want to upset him. Who knows what it could do. He might wake up and forget you were ever here.”

Dimetreus chuckled. “I would do something like that, wouldn’t I?”

Cora knew full well Morkai’s words had been said in threat. If the duke wanted, he could make Dimetreus forget she’d come back. He could turn her back from princess to prisoner.

“Go, sister,” the king said, gesturing at the floor before the dais. “Who will dance with her?”

Morkai stood easily from his chair.

But another voice spoke first. “Might I have this dance?” Teryn rose to his feet in a rush, sending his chair legs scraping against the stone floor.

Cora looked from one man to the other. Either way, she’d have to dance with an enemy. The decision, however, wasn’t hard to make. She hated the thought of dancing with Teryn, but letting Morkai put his hands anywhere near her was far more repulsive. It didn’t matter that he looked hardly older than Teryn. She’d rather die than dance with him.

Lifting her chin, she met Teryn’s gaze with a glare. She spoke through her teeth. “Yes, Prince Teryn. I’d be honored to dance.”