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C ora’s eyes locked with Teryn’s as they left the dais on opposite sides of the table. His expression was neutral, unreadable, while hers was burning with malice. She felt as if she were meeting him for a duel rather than a dance. They met at the center of the floor, and Teryn gave a stiff bow. She offered an even stiffer curtsy. Her heart thudded wildly in her chest as the harpist began to play. Teryn stepped in close. He held one hand out to the side while the other came to her back. She stifled a gasp. Then, deepening her glare, she alighted one palm on his shoulder and draped the other over his waiting hand. She was grateful for the dinner gloves they both wore, creating barriers between their flesh. Even so, she could still feel the heat of his skin beneath them.

Teryn began to move. She stumbled, and her animosity was replaced with a flash of panic. While she’d been trained as a child in every sort of formal dance, she’d never been old enough to dance with a partner a public manner. Besides, her lessons had been years ago.

Her breaths came short and sharp as she tried to keep up with Teryn. Thankfully, it wasn’t long before her feet seemed to remember what to do. Teryn must have foreseen that her dance skills would leave much to be desired, for she soon noted that they were moving far slower than the harpist’s tempo. Teryn had probably enjoyed plenty of balls with plenty of capable partners, and yet he was keeping their waltz slow. Simple. For her sake.

It only enraged her more.

She lifted her eyes, realizing they’d fallen to her feet. It nearly made her lose her newly found rhythm when she took in just how close he was. They’d been this near before, primarily at knifepoint or perhaps when she’d hid them under the tree. But this, somehow, was different. She tried to keep her attention on the lower half of his face, noting how the bruising had faded from his nose, leaving only a slight yellow tinge where she’d once broken it. Then, against her will, her gaze inched up higher and higher until she met his eyes. For the first time, she noticed the emerald hue of his irises, a stunning shade even in the dim lamplight. They were turned down at the corners, brimming with unspoken apology that echoed the heavy waves of regret she sensed from him. She averted her gaze over his shoulder and raised her shields.

“Aveline,” he whispered, his voice a deep rumble between them. It made her pulse quicken to hear him use her true name.

“Don’t call me that,” she muttered back.

He sighed. “Cora. Please believe me when I say I’m so sorry.”

He led them into a turn, and she caught sight of the table. Her brother watched with a sappy expression while Morkai’s stare was dark. Assessing. Lex, at the other end of the table, simply downed his wine and poured another glass. Teryn turned them again, leading her away from the table toward the unlit end of the dining hall.

“If I were armed, I’d kill you right now,” she said through her teeth.

“I know.”

She returned her gaze to his. “You think an apology is enough? What are you sorry for, anyway? That you’ve seen me in a dress, heard me called princess , and now realize you should respect me?”

His expression hardened. “I respected you the moment you held a knife to my throat. This was never about a lack of respect.”

“Then what was it about?”

He shifted his jaw. “Desperation.”

His emotions struck her again, and she felt their crushing weight. Desperation was indeed one of them, as was duty. Responsibility. Regret. Shame. It was a tangled burden of feeling, and an effort to breathe away. Her shields felt like they’d grown weaker ever since she’d been captured by Morkai. She shook her head. “Your desperation cost me my freedom.”

He sighed. “You’re not safe here, are you?”

She gave him a pointed look. “What do you think?”

His gaze slid over to the table. “I think there’s something very odd going on here.”

“Odd is one word for it.” They turned, and now she had a view of the dais. Her brother still stared with a giddy grin, his eyes glazed and vacant. There was so much she didn’t understand about what was happening. It was safe to assume her brother was indeed being manipulated by Morkai through means of dark magic. She could feel the duke’s influence writhing through the castle, creeping into every corner and cobweb, dampening the air she breathed. But what exactly was he trying to accomplish? What reason did Morkai have to convince the king that Selay had been responsible for Queen Linette’s death, not to mention Cora’s supposed captivity? And where did the Beast and the hunt for unicorns fit in?

Her thoughts shifted to Valorre. He’d been helping the baby unicorn find its mother when Morkai had come. She hadn’t felt his presence once since then. Hadn’t heard his thoughts. His absence made her chest feel tight but she knew it was for the best. If she couldn’t feel him, then he was far enough away to avoid whatever danger she was in now.

“We can escape,” Teryn whispered, bringing her attention back to him.

She quirked a brow. “Escape? Why would you need to escape? You’re the honored guest. My brave rescuer, remember?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Have you received your precious bounty?”

His whisper turned sharp. “I don’t want it. All I want is to get you and Lex out of here. Tonight. I’ve seen to our horses. All three are saddled and ready, but we can’t use the main gates. If you know any other way out of the castle, any weaknesses in its walls, tell me.”

A memory rose to the forefront of her mind from the night Morkai had set her free from the dungeon. He’d taken her not through the gatehouse, not out one of the patrolled exits, but a portion of the wall that stood closest to the woods. Ivy had covered most of that part of the wall, and somewhere hidden behind tangled green vines had been an opening. A passage.

“You know of a way,” Teryn whispered. “Please, Cora. Tell me and I’ll get you free.”

There was so much conviction in his tone, she almost believed him. Almost. She scoffed. “You expect me to trust you?”

“I’m trying to help.”

“I don’t need your help.” She stepped away from him. That was when she realized they’d stopped dancing. The music had come to an end. It must have been the song’s natural conclusion, for she heard her brother break into applause. Only she was aware of her and Teryn’s abrupt parting.

“Cora.” He reached for her hand and grasped her fingertips.

She stared down at their gloved touch before wrenching her hand away. Then, without bothering to curtsy, she marched back toward the table.

Dimetreus waved his hands at her, shooing her away from the dais. “No, let’s see another dance.” He snapped his fingers at the harpist, who began another song.

Morkai’s gaze burned into Cora while he spoke to her brother. “I think we’ve had enough dancing tonight, Your Majesty.”

“Nonsense. Let the young people have fun.”

“My feet are tired, brother,” she said, painfully aware that Teryn had caught up to her and now stood by her side. “I can’t possibly dance again.”

Dimetreus gave her an indulgent grin. “You must forgive me, then, Aveline. I have just missed you so. Seeing you dance brought back the best memories. Besides,” his grin took on a sly quality, “the two of you make quite the pair. Perhaps our kingdoms can take on a more formal alliance before long.”

Cora’s breath caught, her cheeks burning. She opened her mouth to speak but not a word came out.

Teryn, on the other hand, didn’t share in her struggle. “I am honored at what you suggest, Your Majesty,” he said with ease. “I am fond of your sister.”

She whipped her head toward him, lips pursed to keep from emitting a string of curses. The nerve. What a joke!

“You forget, Majesty,” Morkai said, his voice cold, “that the prince has yet to prove himself our ally.”

Dimetreus gestured at Teryn. “He…he rescued her. It’s quite romantic, Your Grace.”

The duke’s attention shifted to Teryn. “Romantic indeed. Still, he must demonstrate the extent of his heroics.”

“He’ll march on Selay with us,” Dimetreus said. “Won’t you, Prince Teryn?”

“March on Selay.” Cora wasn’t sure whether it was just her who’d said it because she, Teryn, and Lex were all staring bewilderedly at the king.

“Yes,” Dimetreus said. His expression hardened, an edge creeping into his tone. “We must avenge what was done to my wife. We must make them pay for keeping my sister captive. For six years, I’ve been planning for this moment, building toward it. We will lay waste to the capital city, seize Verlot Palace, and make King Verdian regret that he ever lifted a hand against us.”

A shudder ran down Cora’s spine as she recalled the rumors of her brother’s growing army. How Roije had to fight his way out of being recruited. All this time…the king’s motive had been to build an army big enough to take down Selay? She narrowed her eyes at Morkai, but he only smiled back. This wasn’t her brother’s plan. It was his . But why?

She balled her hands at her sides and strode up the dais until she stood opposite her brother. “Selay didn’t send a spy to kill your wife,” she said, her words coming out with a tremor.

“Aveline,” Morkai said, tone pitched low.

“I wasn’t kept captive there for the last six years.”

Dimetreus blinked a few times, his face going a shade paler. “What is she talking about, Your Grace?”

She expected Morkai to answer, but he didn’t. Amusement danced in his eyes, which should have been warning enough to keep her from saying another word. Still, she had to try. Had to test the bounds of Morkai’s control. “I’ve been hiding for six years because you sentenced me to death for the murder of Queen Linette. A crime I didn’t commit. A crime he did.” She pointed at the duke. “He framed me for it, let me take the fall, and you believed him. You believed him when he told you I’d died, but now you see me standing before you. You believed him when he said it had all been a mistake and I’d been captured by Selay, but I promise you that is untrue. Brother, do not believe another word he says.”

Dimetreus trembled and closed his eyes. At first, Cora thought he was crying. Then he stood from his seat and pounded his fists onto the table, sending the dinnerware rattling. Lex scrambled back from the table while Morkai took a sip of wine, watching the spectacle with a grin.

“Lies!” the king shouted. “You lie! You are not my sister.” He reached across the table for her, but she launched back—only to recall she was upon the dais. Her foot slipped on the top step, and she began to fall.

A steady arm encircled her waist, catching her. She didn’t care that it was Teryn. Didn’t care that he kept his hand on her lower back once her feet were planted firmly on the ground. She only cared about the rage distorting her brother’s face. He looked so much like he had the day he condemned her to die.

“She speaks the truth,” Teryn said. “Every word she says is true.”

Dimetreus began to round the table toward them. “You’re both spies. You aren’t my sister, and you aren’t the prince.” He whirled toward where Lex stood plastered against the wall. “Who even are you? Who are any of you? Guards!”

The door opened at the end of the dining hall, and in strode several guards. Cora noted that not one bore the king’s sigil, only the duke’s crescent moon.

“Get them out of my sight,” Dimetreus said as he stormed away from the dais.

“Dimi,” Cora called after him, but he didn’t give her a second glance before he left the dining hall entirely. She pressed in close to Teryn as the guards surrounded them in a half circle. There was no getting to the door without going through the guards first. Cora waited for them to start forward, draw their weapons, and attack. They didn’t.

Slow footsteps drew her attention to Morkai. He sauntered down the dais, cane in hand, and addressed his guards. “The king is having one of his fits again. He’ll be right by morning. For now, ignore him.”

The guards obeyed, making no move to close in.

It didn’t ease the feeling of dread that had crawled into her heart.

Morkai approached Teryn and Cora, eyes narrowed to slits.

Cora felt something squeeze her hand and realized Teryn had been holding it. Gritting her teeth, she wrenched it away and took a step back. Teryn remained rooted in place. He met Morkai with his chin held high. They were nearly the same height, although Teryn was of a much broader build. In contrast, Morkai was lithe and lean, which only somehow added to his terrifying beauty.

“Prince Teryn,” Morkai said, a hint of mocking in his tone, “I do believe it’s time I showed you the garden.”