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T he bath was heavenly. Aromas of jasmine filled her senses while the enormous tub accommodated enough water to let her submerge up to her neck. The only part of her bath that was less than ideal was Lurel’s presence. She hadn’t bathed in front of an attendant since she was a child, but the girl had only scoffed when Cora suggested she wait outside her room.

“Nonsense,” she’d said. “You won’t get those tangles out of your hair without aid.”

Lurel had been right, and Cora was now suffering from it as the knots were combed from her dark strands. Cora could feel the other girl’s frustration, even with her mental shields in place.

“I’ve never met a more stubborn knot,” Lurel said through her teeth.

“You can cut more of my hair,” Cora offered, ready for her torture to end.

“I already cut six inches, Highness. I’ll take no more.”

Cora made no further argument. By the time her hair was combed, her scalp felt like it had been grated off. But when she ran her hands through her silken tresses, she thought perhaps the torment had been worth it.

“We must hurry,” Lurel said as she ushered Cora out of the tub and behind a dressing screen. “Your bath took far longer than I expected and you have a meeting to attend.”

Lurel left Cora to dry herself with a plush towel, then returned with her arms full of cream-colored silk and linen, which turned out to be a shift, corset, petticoats, and stockings. Cora’s cheeks heated as the girl took Cora’s towel and began dressing her in undergarments as if it were the most normal thing in the world. She supposed it was for a lady’s maid.

“A meeting with whom?” Cora asked as Lurel flounced off again, this time returning with the gold taffeta gown the seamstresses had left behind.

“With King Verdian, of course,” Lurel said.

“I’m meeting with King Verdian?” Her voice was muffled as Lurel pulled the dress over Cora’s head.

“Of course. Hasn’t anyone told you?”

When Cora’s head popped above the bodice, she gave the girl a pointed look. “You’re the first person I’ve had any lengthy conversation with who isn’t an inquisitor.”

Lurel paused, her face going a shade paler. “Oh. I hadn’t realized—well, there I go being a rotten lady’s maid again. No wonder Mareleau offered me up to you. I may be her cousin, but she doesn’t like me much.”

I wonder why , she thought with sarcasm, but chastised herself. Lurel may be a bit vague but she was kind. That’s more than she could say for the inquisitors. They had been some of the most abrupt, skeptical people she’d ever had to converse with.

Once Lurel secured the laces at the back of the dress, she rounded the front and assessed Cora through slitted lids. “It will have to do. The dress is a bit too modest for your age, but it was the only one that would fit without being hemmed first. It belonged to Mareleau when she was eleven.”

Cora glanced down at the gold and cream taffeta, the ivory lace at the hem and sleeves. The bodice was high enough to leave no sign of cleavage, but it wasn’t terribly modest. Then again, her ideas of fashion were likely out of date.

Lurel’s words suddenly dawned. “You're saying I have the body of an eleven-year-old?”

“An eleven-year-old Mareleau ,” Lurel corrected. “She’s much taller and curvier than you are. You really ought to wear a crinoline or a bustle—but we don’t have time for that. Your hair! Oh, it looks terrible.”

She wasn’t sure if she should feel offended by Lurel’s comments, but she pursed her lips and let the girl finish her flustered ministrations.

Cora felt more like a peacock than a princess as she left the room. Her hair had been woven into four braids that had been pinned around the crown of her head and dressed in feathered ornaments to hide that her tresses were still damp from her bath. Rouge colored her lips and cheeks, but she’d managed to convince Lurel to forgo the face powder and kohl. She hadn’t been this overdressed since she was a child and never had she been expected to wear cosmetics.

A pair of guards flanked her as they escorted her down the elegant halls of Verlot Palace. She tried her best not to gawk at the splendor around her, but this was the first time she’d been allowed out of her room all week. Equally as distracting were the many curious eyes that looked her way, the courtiers who stared shamelessly as she passed.

The guards stopped outside a pair of double doors. Her heart raced as they opened them, and she fisted her hands in the folds of her skirt. She found the room beyond to be a study, with the familiar face of King Verdian standing behind a large desk. He looked different from how he had on the battlefield. Instead of short gray hair, he now wore a powdered wig, and instead of armor, he bore a regal gold and white coat emblazoned with Selay’s rose sigil over his breast. An imposing-looking woman sat to his left, her golden hair arranged in a tight coronet, lips tightly pursed, eyes hard and assessing.

The guards closed the doors behind Cora, and she dipped into a curtsy several seconds too late.

“Princess Aveline,” King Verdian said, tone flat, “this is Dowager Queen Bethaeny.”

Cora blinked a few times. She’d assumed the woman was Verdian’s wife, Queen Helena. Instead, it was…Teryn’s mother. Now that she reassessed the woman, she saw some similarities between her and the boy she knew. While Teryn favored his late father’s looks with his green eyes and dark hair, his tresses glinted gold in the sun, a similar shade to the queen’s.

More surprising than the unexpected presence of Queen Bethaeny, though, was the figure that rose from his seat. She hadn’t noticed him behind the high leather back of his chair, but as her brother faced her with a worn, tired smile, she couldn’t look anywhere else. Her heart skipped and lurched, just how it had when she’d first seen him at Ridine Castle over a month ago. It seemed her emotions still didn’t know what to make of Dimetreus. For too many years, she’d hated him for believing she’d killed his wife. She’d despised him for ordering her to a dungeon cell without remorse. Only after she’d been captured by Duke Morkai had she realized her brother was being controlled by the mage.

At the end of the battle, her brother had been surrounded by soldiers, called a traitor for having attempted to conquer Selay and Menah. Dimetreus, however, hadn’t had a clue as to what the accusations were about. Morkai’s death had severed his magic and the multiple glamours he’d woven. Once the glamours had been lifted, Dimetreus—and all the others who’d been freed from the mage’s hold—had been confused. Lost. His memories a tangle of truth and lies.

Cora still blamed her brother for many things, primarily for letting Morkai into their lives in the first place and not being strong enough to withstand the mage’s glamour. But she knew he wouldn’t have waged war on Selay and Menah if he hadn’t been under Morkai’s spell.

At least, she hoped that was the case. It was the gamble she’d taken, the sole reason she was here and not far, far away, basking in the solitude of the woods. If Dimetreus was innocent, he deserved to keep his crown, and she owed it to their kingdom to ensure that happened.

She assessed him, noting the dark circles that still hung beneath his eyes, the wrinkles he was too young to have, and the thin gray hair that should have been lustrous and black. These telltale signs of Morkai’s abuse fueled her conviction. There was no way he’d have endured Morkai’s sorcery willingly. He was innocent.

“Aveline,” he said as he walked toward her, voice strangled. His dark eyes glistened with tears, reminding her too much of how they’d looked when under the sheen of the glamour. He extended his arms, inviting her into an embrace, but she couldn’t bring herself to move.

A flash of memory shot through her, of him storming into Queen Linette’s room, of the rage on his face when he’d turned to Cora and blamed her for his wife’s death…

Slowly, he lowered his arms and gave her a knowing nod. “I’m so sorry, my dear sister.”

Cora shook her head to clear it and tried to summon a smile. All she conjured was a subtle flicker of her lips. “It’s all right,” she whispered. Then, with a deep inhale, she took her brother’s arm and allowed him to escort her to the desk. Her breath caught when she felt how slim his arm was. Her momentary resistance drained, leaving only sympathy in its wake. She looked up at him, this time managing an almost-full smile. “I’m glad you’re well. You seem to have recovered from the wounds you sustained at Centerpointe Rock.”

“I have. As have you, I presume?”

“Yes,” she said, and they separated to take their seats.

Verdian’s expression remained hard, unmoved by their reunion.

Queen Bethaeny spoke first. “My son has done much on your behalf, Princess Aveline. He’s been tireless in proving your identity and corroborating your story. I was curious to meet the woman who had my son so transfixed that he’d delay both his coronation and the burial of his father.”

Heat flooded Cora’s cheeks, her heart flipping in her chest. It took no small effort to keep her voice level. “I am grateful for everything Prince Teryn has done, and for Your Majesties’ willingness to listen.”

She meant every word. Trusting Teryn had been another gamble. He knew her secrets, knew she was a witch. Knew that she’d poisoned an entire camp of hunters and that she had a dark history with Morkai. The things he knew could have condemned her. She’d put blind faith in him the last few weeks, trusting he’d say only what the royals needed to hear and nothing more. She knew from firsthand experience how convincing he could be, even to someone who could sense emotions. She’d been on the receiving end of his lies when he betrayed her to Morkai. If anyone could keep a secret, it was him.

“Have you been treated well?” Bethaeny asked. “I was told my son demanded that you were.”

Cora paused, debating her answer. “My accommodations have been fine, but I much prefer the freedom to leave my room.”

The queen gave a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “You must forgive us for the lengthy questioning period you endured. Even with my son so invested in your plight, precautions were necessary.”

“After what we've been through, we weren’t willing to take any chances,” Verdian said, his tone far brusquer than Bethaeny’s. “Lives have been lost. We couldn’t risk the possibility that either of you posed the same threat the duke had.”

“I assure you,” Dimetreus said, speaking slowly, carefully, “I hold none of the ambitions the former Duke Morkai held, nor do I believe any of the lies he once fed me. I only wish to return to Khero and set everything to rights. As I’ve promised, I will do whatever it takes to secure the trust of Selay and Menah.”

“Yes, we’ve heard your promise,” Verdian said, “but now we need the princess’ word as well.”

“I feel the same as my brother,” Cora said. “I will support him in any way I can.”

Verdian leaned back in his chair, pinning Cora with an icy look. “First, I must remind you what is at stake. Even though we’re willing to believe Dimetreus was not acting of his own free will, those who fought at Centerpointe Rock saw him as a traitor. Rumors have spread, and even citizens of his own kingdom have reasons to doubt him. It would be no difficult task for me to seize control over Khero during this time of unrest for the kingdom’s own good. If you and your brother fail to agree to our terms, I will enact this plan, and you will remain hostages here. Any resistance from you as hostages, and you will be executed.”

Cora clenched her jaw. This was the first time she’d been referred to as a hostage. She’d known that was what she’d been all along, but it was one thing to know it and another to hear it stated outright. Not to mention his threat to seize her kingdom as his own. A fiery rage sparked in her chest but she breathed it away. “What are your terms?”

“Your brother will be allowed to resume his place as King of Khero, but his council, staff, and military will be selected by me. All positions will be filled by men from Selay. Dimetreus has already agreed to this.”

Cora met her brother’s eyes. He gave her a resigned nod, and her muscles began to uncoil. Those terms weren’t terrible.

Verdian continued. “But we need something from you too. Based on the widespread belief of your death, as well as your questionable… history… we’ve struggled with how best to secure trust with you.”

He glanced briefly at Cora’s forearms where a hint of black ink trailed over the tan skin above her silk gloves. Lurel had wrinkled her nose when she’d first caught sight of the tattoos during Cora’s bath, her feelings made clear despite how she’d insisted she thought they were pretty . Cora hadn’t argued when Lurel dressed her in gloves before leaving her room. She tugged the silk a little higher now, pursing her lips against the indignation that colored her cheeks.

Verdian didn’t know that the tattoos were insigmora , a Faeryn tradition meant to convey what level of the magical Arts one was practiced in. Hiding her tattoos—and her magic—felt like a betrayal, but these were secrets she needed to keep. She’d already drawn enough suspicion when she’d admitted to having lived with the Forest People. Even though they’d fought against Morkai at Centerpointe Rock, there was no denying their use of magic. Everyone on the battlefield had witnessed them wielding roots and vines like weapons. During Cora’s questioning, she’d sensed the inquisitors’ fear and disgust for all things magic. That was when she’d decided to bury that side of her. Hide it. Ignore it. Pretend she was just a princess. Just a girl eager to restore her title and save her brother’s crown. It was the only way to convince them she was who she claimed to be.

Verdian spoke again. “While our current terms have established trust between Selay and Khero, you and Dimetreus owe Menah a debt as well. It is imperative that we forge an alliance between all three of our kingdoms, so that true peace can be secured between us.”

“My son has come up with a proposal,” Bethaeny said. “A solution that will bind you to Menah and forge that trust we seek.”

Sweat slicked Cora’s palms. “What proposal would that be?”

“Marriage,” Verdian said.

Cora froze. She repeated their words in her mind to make sure she understood them correctly. Teryn has proposed…

“Marriage?” she echoed.

Verdian and Bethaeny nodded in unison.

“To me.”

Another nod.

Emotions clashed in her heart, anger warring with something softer. How dare Teryn propose marriage without asking her directly! She…she…she would stab him for this. Surely she deserved a far better proposal than one of contractual obligation. But of course he didn’t want to marry her. This was a matter of politics and alliances, as all royal marriages were. It was all for the better this way. She wasn’t certain she wanted to keep her title longer than it took to reestablish her brother’s rule. A marriage of the heart would only complicate things.

Still…he’d come up with this plan for her . That had to amount to something. Perhaps he did want the union, for reasons other than necessity.

Warmth crept into her chest, barreling through her anger, her shock. Memories of the kiss they’d shared in Ridine’s dungeon came to mind, of that moment of pleasure and desire that had ended in trickery. He’d kissed her to trick her. He’d tricked her to force her to leave him behind. She’d resented him for using her own hidden desire against her, but…

Could he have wanted the kiss as much as she secretly had?

Verdian’s voice was an unwelcome distraction from her thoughts, especially with the taunting lilt to his voice. “Your betrothal contract will be drafted at once. You will marry the Prince of Menah in one year.”

Cora frowned, puzzling over the mocking way he’d said Prince of Menah and that he’d referred to Teryn as prince . Bethaeny had said Teryn postponed his coronation, but Verdian had begun calling Teryn king as soon as the battle was over. A cloud of dread began to sink her stomach.

“Once you agree, we will speak with Prince Larylis,” Verdian said. Then, with a smirk, he added, “I doubt he’ll have any qualms over it. He’s lucky to be a prince, much less marry a princess.”

Cora felt as if the floor had opened a gaping hole beneath her. Her disappointment was so heavy, it made her head spin. “Just so we’re clear,” Cora said, her voice trembling, “I am to marry Teryn’s brother…Larylis.”

“ Prince Larylis,” Bethaeny said, tone brimming with disdain. “Thanks to my late husband’s last wish.”

Cora curled her fingers around her chair’s armrests.

Teryn hadn’t made a proposal of marriage between himself and her. He’d made it between her and his brother .

Every soft feeling that had awakened inside her dissipated beneath the new wave of fury that roared through her. She wasn’t mad at Teryn. No, what he’d done made sense. He was already engaged to Princess Mareleau. He had no romantic inclinations toward Cora. Her anger was with herself. For that pathetic spark of hope she’d allowed herself to entertain.

“Oh, Highness,” Bethaeny said, voice soft, “you didn’t think…”

Cora met her eyes and found the queen’s expression held equal parts sympathy and amusement. It was the latter emotion that had Cora’s chest heaving. She tore her gaze from Bethaeny’s and turned her attention to Verdian. “Is that all?”

“There are finer points to this arrangement,” he said, sharing neither Bethaeny’s sympathy nor her amusement. “Should Dimetreus fail to secure a proper bride and provide a suitable heir, rule will pass to you upon his death or abdication. If Dimetreus’ council deems him incapable of the crown at any point, he will be forced to abdicate at once. If this occurs before you and Larylis have officially wed, you’ll need to formalize your marriage immediately. Your council will not recognize you as Dimetreus’ heir until this marriage alliance is secure.”

Cora glanced at her brother again only to find resignation in his eyes. This was another term he’d already agreed to. What else was there for her to do but resign herself to it as well? She was too angry to think things through, too irritated by her own fickle heart to do anything but say, “I accept. All of it. Whatever it takes. When can we return home?”

Verdian tilted his head back as if he hadn’t expected her to agree so readily. “We’ve arranged transportation and lodgings. My brother, Lord Kevan, will host you at his estate for a few days while we finish preparations. He will serve as Dimetreus’ Head of Council and will escort you and some of your new household staff to Ridine?—”

“Great,” Cora said. She was disturbed by how much had already been arranged before she’d agreed. More than that, she was desperate to end the meeting. “We will leave for Lord Kevan’s estate at once.”

“Very well,” Verdian said. “The sooner we can bring stability to Khero, the better.”

With her cooperation secured, she took the opportunity to excuse herself. She felt a flash of guilt for abandoning her brother, but she needed to get out of there. To breathe. To be alone?—

“I hope you didn’t think it was going to be that easy.”

Cora had just left the closed doors of the king’s study behind her when a tall female figure blocked her path. She expected it to be one of the guards who had brought her here, but she spotted both of them waiting farther down the hall. Instead, she was confronted by a woman dressed in a turquoise silk gown with a plunging neckline that revealed an ample bosom. Her skirts flared out at her waist in every direction. Her silver-blonde hair fell in perfect curls over one shoulder. Cora blinked at her a few times. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t get comfortable,” the girl said, blue eyes flashing with menace. “You aren’t marrying Larylis.”

She wanted to say that she didn’t give two licks about Larylis, or her, or anyone here. Instead, she lifted her chin to meet the other woman’s eyes. Batting her lashes, she said, “Should I know you?”

The blonde’s cheeks heated with indignation. The truth was, Cora knew exactly who she was. It didn’t take a genius to guess this was Princess Mareleau Harvallis, the woman who’d spurned her engagement to Teryn and sent him on a hunt for unicorns. Until this moment, Cora hadn’t realized just how much she already despised her.

Mareleau took a step closer, hands on her hips. With a cruel grin, she looked Cora up and down. “Nice dress. Do you always wear children’s clothes?”

Cora gave her an innocent smile. “When my only options are the leftovers from some spoiled harpy with poor taste in fashion, yes.” With that, she skirted around Mareleau and stormed down the hall, her fury burning hotter with every step she took.