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T he fight left Cora’s body. Dread filled her core as the guard hauled her over one armored shoulder. They marched past cell after cell, some doors closed while others gaped open. The dungeon hall was lit only by the occasional lamp. It was exactly how she remembered it. Dim. Terrifying. Cold. The unsettling familiarity swept Cora into memory. She was small again. A girl who’d just been on the receiving end of her brother’s misplaced wrath. Tears had streamed down her cheeks as her pleas went unheard. Her brother had refused to step foot in the dungeon hall and instead stood at the doorway, watching as she was dragged away from him without an ounce of pity in his glazed eyes.

She looked at the same doorway now. It was empty this time, shrinking behind her with every step the guard took. But she remembered the sheen in Dimetreus’ hollow gaze. Her brother had been under Morkai’s glamour even then. It made sense now. She’d met the Roizan that night six years ago, which meant the duke had already created a vessel for dark magic, already had the ability to weave a long-standing glamour.

Her captor stopped outside a closed cell. She renewed her struggle, but the guard only squeezed her tighter. From ahead, she heard the clang of metal on metal. A door being unlocked. The guard set her roughly down and shoved her inside the now-open cell. She stumbled back into darkness and landed on the damp stone floor. Pushing herself off the ground, she whirled toward the door. Two figures were backlit by the dim light outside the cell. One was unmistakably Morkai. She hadn’t noticed he’d come too.

He threw something at her feet and slammed the cell door. His voice came through a thin barred window. “If only one of you remains alive by sunrise, that person can leave.”

Two sets of footsteps retreated.

She blinked into the room, willing her eyes to adjust to darkness. The tiny window provided barely enough light to see her own hands at first. But soon she began to make out shapes from the shadows. A pile of straw. A chamber pot. And a humanlike form in the corner.

She’d already known she wasn’t alone.

If only one of you remains alive by sunrise, that person can leave .

Her gaze darted to her feet where she found her quiver with not even a dozen arrows left inside. That must have been what Morkai had thrown inside the cell with her. He wanted Cora to kill whoever was in here with her.

Or…he wanted the other person to kill her.

The form stirred, shifted. She bent down, grabbed an arrow in each hand. The figure rose to standing at the same moment she did. It stepped closer while Cora stood her ground, prepared to fight. She assessed every edge of her adversary’s silhouette, seeking any sign that they held a weapon too, until…

Until they stepped into the sliver of light streaming in from the barred window.

It was Teryn.

She wasn’t sure whether to feel relief or anger, but she didn’t have time to consider either emotion. He moved toward her, and she drew her arm back, ready to plunge her arrow?—

He didn’t close in.

Instead, he leaned against the opposite wall with a sigh. She shifted her stance so she could see him more clearly. He was still dressed down to his shirt and trousers, his neckcloth hanging untied around his open collar. His face was bruised, his lower lip split. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall. “He doesn’t expect us to kill each other, nor does he want us to,” he said, voice heavy with fatigue. “He needs me alive, remember?”

She looked down at the arrows in her hands. “Then why did he leave me with these?”

“Because he wants us to distrust each other. Either that or…or he wants to test our friendship so he can use us against one another.”

She pointedly ignored the second part of his statement. “Distrust has already been well established between us, thanks to you.”

“I can’t keep saying I’m sorry if you won’t believe it.”

“You haven’t said it nearly enough for me to even start to believe it. We’re here because of you.”

She expected him to argue, to say they were there because of her , because she’d lied about her identity, because she was a wanted fugitive.

But he said none of that.

“I know, Cora. I’d take it back if I could.”

She felt the truth of his statement. As much as she wanted to hold on to the comforting weight of her rage, she felt some of it begin to fray. He hadn’t taken Morkai’s deal. Hadn’t agreed to convince his father to surrender. Unlike Lex. She felt a flicker of resentment at how easily Lex had given in. Not that she could blame him. What was happening here had nothing to do with the Kingdom of Tomas and everything to do with the three kingdoms of Lela. For now, at least. What Lex had failed to understand was that if Morkai became King of Lela, he’d be a force the rest of the continent should fear. A force the rest of the world should fear.

She could forgive Lex for being a coward, but she wouldn’t be so easy on herself.

With a deep breath, she tossed her arrows back inside her quiver and began unhooking the closures of her gown. When that didn’t work, she tore her bodice and pushed her skirts down her hips until only her shift and corset remained.

Teryn straightened with alarm. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not lounging around in a dungeon cell wearing an evening gown.” She turned away from him and began loosening the laces of her corset until she felt her ribcage expand. Her cheeks grew hot despite the fact that modesty was pointless in their situation. Still, she refused to meet his eyes as she marched to the cell door. There was no keyhole on this side, only solid metal. She hadn’t heard the scrape of a key after Morkai had shut the door, which meant the locking mechanism must be automatic. The barred window was far too high for her to reach through and try to pick the lock. And yet, it was a lock like any other. And the door…it was just that. A door. A medley of elements.

Closing her eyes, she pressed her palms to the metal.

And pushed.

Nothing happened. For hours, Cora sought the elements within the door. She should have been able to connect with them. In theory, at least. She’d heard tales of witches who could walk through walls, of Faeryn who could carve paths through stone with a touch. After what she’d done under the tree, she believed those stories now. Believed it was possible. The door was iron. Earth that had been heated with fire, transmuted into liquid, solidified with air. The same elements that comprised her body, animated her life force. She should be able to melt it. Move it. Seek the locking mechanism and lift it from its latch. She went through the same thought process she’d gone through at the tree, but not once did she feel a connection to her magic.

It was Morkai. It had to be him. She hadn’t felt her magic as strongly ever since he’d captured her. Not even her shields had felt as firmly under her control. The duke was blocking her magic somehow.

With a frustrated groan, she slammed her fist against the door.

“Are you going to do that all night?” Teryn asked. They hadn’t spoken more than a handful of terse words.

“I’m trying to get out of here,” she said through her teeth. She pressed her palms to the door, but her magic felt more muted than ever. Why had it been so much easier at the tree? She’d felt so strong afterward. Exhilarated.

Then she remembered why she’d done it in the first place.

She’d felt an internal nudge, a clairsentient feeling that told her to do what felt hardest in that moment. Her instincts had begged her to fight or flee but her magic had urged her to stay and hide. She’d faced a challenge and her magic had grown from it.

If that was the case, where was her magic now? Where were the great feats she’d allowed herself to believe in?

She closed her eyes and focused on her breath, stilling her thoughts until they narrowed on the feeling of air filling her lungs. The stench of rot threatened to shake her concentration, but she told herself the aroma was nothing more than air and earth and water and fire. She shifted her feet against the stone floor, letting it anchor her. She felt the damp air on her skin, could hear the trickle of water dripping in a nearby cell. She opened her eyes and studied the shaft of lamplight streaming through the barred window. With her connection to the elements made, calm settled over her. But there remained a heaviness that darkened the edges of her awareness, snagging her senses. She followed it, pursued the source, expecting it to lead her to Morkai.

It didn’t.

It led her to Teryn.

From her periphery, she saw him leaning against the wall, head lowered, arms folded. The darkness she’d sensed collected all around him, but it wasn’t coming from him. It was coming from her. She could feel it spilling from her chest in angry waves.

Morkai wasn’t blocking her magic. She was.

The realization was so enraging, she felt the darkness gather even thicker. She knew then what her current greatest challenge was.

Hands on her hips, she whirled to face the prince. “Why should I forgive you?”

He looked up and met her eyes. “I never said you should, only that I’m sorry.”

“Why did you do it? What great need did you—a prince—have for my bounty? Why was it so important that it compelled you to trick me into accepting your company, trick me into thinking you wanted to help the unicorns?—”

“I did want to help them,” Teryn said. “Perhaps that hadn’t been my motive at first, but I was repulsed by what the hunters were doing. By what Helios had wanted to do. It’s just that…” He stepped away from the wall and rubbed his brow. “I thought you were a murderer, Cora. I thought you’d murdered the queen and princess.”

“You could have asked. You know, before you betrayed my trust.”

“What would you have done?”

She opened her mouth but her answer died on her lips. Had he revealed that he knew who she was—knew she was wanted by the crown—she’d have fled at her first chance. And that was only if she hadn’t felt threatened. If she had, well…it would have ended in a fight. Her heart sank when she imagined how such a confrontation could have ended. “You still haven’t answered my question. What did you want with my bounty?”

“I told you about the scandal,” he said, voice hollow with exhaustion. “About the threat of war my kingdom faced a few years back.”

She nodded, trying not to think about what Morkai had said on that topic.

You could never be Teryn’s queen.

The unicorns. The mother. The child…

Do you know what the prince’s father did to his queen? He tried to have her replaced with his mistress. Teryn would only do the same to you.

The curse he wove with her blood…

“My father took a loan from the Bank of Cartha to compensate my mother and keep her father from declaring war on us. We hadn’t been able to pay the bank back so Cartha resorted to sending pirates. They’ve been raiding our ships, halting trade between us and Brushwold. My kingdom…we were on the brink of ruin. It was my duty as heir to fix what my father had nearly destroyed. That was why I went after the unicorns in the first place.”

“The Heart’s Hunt,” she said, remembering what he’d told her when they’d first met. He’d come to Khero to win Princess Mareleau’s hand in marriage. The thought sent an odd prickle to her heart.

“I found the poster with your face on it shortly after I realized I couldn’t complete the Hunt.” He ran a hand through his hair before he met her eyes again. “I regret it. I regret lying to you. I regret putting you in danger.”

Again, she felt the truth of his emotions. “What about for yourself? Don’t you regret getting captured?”

He let out a dark laugh. “Maybe I’ve gotten what I deserve.”

They fell into silence. Cora nibbled her bottom lip. She could feel the darkness dissipating between them, felt something like relief lighten her chest. But she still felt a block. A challenge. One that aggravated her to no end.

“I won’t let my father yield to him,” he said. “I promise you, in whatever way I can, I will stop Duke Morkai.”

She wanted to bark a laugh and remind him there was nothing he could do. He was a prisoner. A hostage. Morkai would send his summons to Menah and Selay in the morning. When they met at Centerpointe Rock in two weeks’ time, there would be very little chance the duke would give Teryn the opportunity to speak. If the prince hadn’t been such a stubborn fool, he could have lied to the duke the same way he’d lied to her. He could have let Morkai think he’d won him over only to bide his time until he could act against the duke in a way that mattered. Instead, Teryn had gotten himself thrown in a cell.

As did I , she reminded herself. Perhaps they weren’t so different.

She had to admit, there was something admirable about him refusing to play the duke’s game. Her admiration bloomed, softening the edges of the thorns that had embedded themselves around her heart. His betrayal still ached. She breathed it in, feeling the sensations sink her stomach, letting them thrum through her, weaken her bit by bit, crumble her, and then… strengthen her. Her mind grew clearer, her breaths fuller.

“All right,” she whispered.

“All right, what?”

“All right, I…” She tried to form the word forgive , but her mouth wouldn’t obey. It was too soon to feel genuine forgiveness, but she felt something . “I understand. I…I know why you did what you did, so…all right.”

His posture relaxed. “Cora?—”

She turned away from him and went back to the door. This time, when she placed her hands against the metal, a thrum of magic ran through her palm. She felt equal parts elation and annoyance. Why had her magic insisted on her making peace with Teryn? Then again, maybe it hadn’t been about him at all. Maybe it had more to do with the rage and hate she’d let consume her senses. Her powers had grown when she’d hid herself and Teryn under the tree, but she’d so quickly reverted to her base instincts afterward. It was a lesson she was constantly having to revisit—the cost of ignoring the whispers of quiet magic in the face of far more tempting noise.

She could hear her magic now, though, the same way she had at the tree. It wasn’t a voice that spoke but a feeling. One that guided her hand to where the door met the frame. She felt the cool metal pulse beneath her hand, echoing the rush of her blood. Once, this door was molten. Once, this door was as soft and pliable as her flesh. Once, it was but a collection of metals. Small. Separate. Movable. Even now, she could sense space in the steel, the same space that existed between her fingers, between the strands of her hair, in the pores of her skin. It moved, it buzzed, it hummed like anything else. She slid her hand slightly up, sensed movement mirrored within the door. Then she brushed a finger to the left.

A soft click sounded on the other side. She gave the metal a gentle push.

Beneath Cora’s palm, the door opened.