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C ora’s arrival at Ridine Castle felt less like coming home and more like stumbling upon a traveling circus. The location was familiar but had been transformed by the uncanny. As she entered the great hall with her brother, she found it looked nothing like the understaffed castle Morkai had brought her to, nor the dark, chilling place of her once-constant nightmares. It bustled with activity, much like it had during her childhood, but with unfamiliar faces.

Servants and staff bowed low as Lord Kevan barked orders and made introductions. Chests and furnishings were brought in from the wagons that were being unloaded in the courtyard. The chaos was so unsettling, Cora found her shields weakening. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and forced herself to focus on the latest introduction.

An older man with a slim build and kind face greeted her and her brother with a bow. “Your Majesty. Your Highness. I am Master Arther, your new steward.”

Cora nodded in greeting, then faced Lord Kevan. “Has Lord Ulrich already come?”

“No,” Kevan said, “we are not expecting him for another three days at least.”

Cora furrowed her brow. If Ulrich hadn’t arrived with the rest of their newly appointed staff and councilmen, then who were all these people? Neither Master Arther nor half of those scuttling about the halls had come with her retinue. None showed any familiarity with Dimetreus but seemed well enough acquainted with Kevan. That meant they hadn’t served under her brother when Morkai had had the run of the castle. Considering how empty Ridine had been the last time she’d been here, it was no surprise it required an overhaul of staff. Still, she hadn’t expected it to have been done in her and Dimetreus’ absence.

When Kevan didn’t elaborate, she turned a questioning look to her brother.

Dimetreus released a grumbling sigh. “King Verdian seized control of Ridine immediately after the battle,” he said, speaking low. “He’d already had it restaffed before we’d come to our agreement.”

A spike of indignation surged through her blood. While she understood Verdian’s suspicion over her brother’s involvement with Morkai, it felt wrong that he’d taken over Ridine Castle so prematurely. It served to remind her that until the peace pact was officially signed, she and Dimetreus were essentially on probation. Should they give Verdian—or his brothers—any reason to doubt their innocence, he could pull Khero right out from under their grasp.

Kevan narrowed his eyes at Dimetreus. “Yes, and you should be quite thankful for my brother’s generosity. Had he not acted when he did, you’d be coming home to cobwebs.”

“I am ever so grateful,” Dimetreus said through his teeth. This was the first sign Cora had seen to suggest he might share in Cora’s annoyance. For the most part, he’d demonstrated nothing but eager submission and a willingness to comply with whatever was demanded of him. She studied him closer and saw a tic forming at the corner of his jaw.

Lurel bounded up to Cora, her face alight with a wide smile. “You’re home, Your Highness! How does it feel? I bet you missed it greatly. You haven’t been back to Ridine in so long, have you?”

Cora nearly admitted that it hadn’t been long at all but decided against it. She hadn’t shared many personal details with her lady’s maid, so all the girl knew about Cora’s past was whatever was being said through gossip. Kevan had urged Cora and Dimetreus to speak little of recent events until they could hold a council meeting and agree upon the official story that would be publicly shared. That meeting, however, couldn’t commence until the rest of the council arrived with Lord Ulrich.

Lurel glanced around the great hall, her smile shifting into something like a grimace. “It’s rather…different from Verlot, isn’t it?”

“Different is a word for it,” Cora said. She’d been too consumed with her and Dimetreus’ fates to appreciate the luxury of Verlot Palace, but as she stared at the plain stone walls, bare wooden beams, and flagstone floor, she couldn’t help but admit Ridine left much to be desired.

Lurel bounced on the balls of her feet. “We can spruce things up, Highness. You’re the lady of the castle. It will be up to you to bring a…” She trailed off, frowning at a faded tapestry bearing a gruesome hunting scene that hung on the wall beside them. Her expression brightened as she met Cora’s eyes with a hopeful smile. “A feminine touch. That is what you’ll bring.”

“Your composure, Lurel,” Kevan said, tone gruff.

Lurel pursed her lips, steeling her features. In a softer voice, she said to Cora, “Might I take your cloak and riding gloves, Highness?”

“Oh…yes.” Even after spending over two weeks with a lady’s maid, she was still unused to being waited upon. Lurel unclasped Cora’s cloak and slid it from her shoulders while Cora peeled off her riding gloves. As she handed them to Lurel, she caught sight of Kevan staring at her bare hands, her tattooed palms now visible.

His lip curled behind his bushy beard as he addressed his daughter. “From now on, Lurel, be sure to keep an extra pair of gloves on hand so the princess always has something to change into.”

Cora bristled at the disdain in his voice. Was the sight of her tattoos so repulsive to him? Her palms tingled as if the magic thrumming through her veins wanted to show him exactly what he should fear. But the fiery urge quickly cooled to a simmer. She’d already chosen to bury her magic when she’d asserted her innocence before the inquisitors, convincing them her insigmora were simply traditional markings borne by the peaceful commune that had provided her sanctuary for six years. When she’d been pressed for more information regarding their magic, she’d feigned ignorance, claiming she knew nothing of magic herself. She’d sensed her questioners’ approval then, which had made Cora wonder if they cared less about the truth and more about her delivery of acceptable answers.

A rebellious fire burned in her belly. Holding his gaze, she rolled up the sleeves of her riding habit, showing off more of the black ink.

With a derisive snort, Kevan gave a shallow bow and departed.

“Your Majesty, Your Highness, shall I show you to your rooms?” Master Arther said. “I imagine you must be tired from your journey.”

“I may have what many consider a befuddled mind, but I know how to find my own living quarters,” Dimetreus said, tone sharp enough to stiffen Cora’s spine.

Arther paled. “Yes, Majesty, I understand. It’s just…very few of the rooms had been kept with much care. We’ve focused our efforts on preparing living spaces for our most prominent residents, but not all rooms are ready for occupation. We are awaiting delivery of fresh linens before we can finish the rest of the rooms. In the meantime, we have assigned sleeping quarters that may not be what you were used to.”

Dimetreus rubbed his brow and forced a smile. “Of course. Lead the way.”

Cora eyed her brother as Arther led her, Dimetreus, and Lurel upstairs. Dimetreus seemed to have grown fatigued since stepping foot inside the castle. The tic still pulsed at the corner of his jaw, and his shoulders were nearly to his ears. “Are you all right?” she whispered.

He grunted his assurance, but Cora wasn’t so convinced.

She continued to watch him carefully as they proceeded past a dimly lit portion of the keep which was clearly uninhabited. The only light came from the pink blush of the setting sun that peeked through the occasional window.

Lurel wrinkled her nose and muttered something about a draft. She edged closer to Cora, hugging Cora’s cloak close to her chest. “I certainly hope the whole castle isn’t always this cold. It is summer, after all.”

They approached a well-lit hall that Cora was quite familiar with. One end led to her childhood bedroom, the largest guest bedrooms, and the king’s suite. As for the other end…

Cora’s pulse quickened as Arther turned to the left and entered another corridor.

Her feet rooted in place. Shadows gathered at the corners of her vision, her heart thumping with a dread she hadn’t felt since her last nightmare. Her sleep had been mostly dreamless since Morkai’s death, but now her mind rang with echoes of the past.

She knew where this hall led. Knew it ended in a single door. A bed.

And blood. So much blood?—

Dimetreus stumbled, his hand clutching his chest. In an instant, Cora’s mind returned to the present. As her vision regained its focus, she found her brother’s face, twisted with anguish.

Arther doubled back, seeing that they were no longer following him. “Is everything all right, Your Majesty?”

Dimetreus’ voice came out strained. “Why isn’t there a wall here?” He blinked hard several times. “I…I thought there was a wall. This hall isn’t supposed to exist.”

Arther frowned. “There was no wall, Majesty. This hall was crowded with dusty furniture, but?—”

Before Cora could think to stop him, Dimetreus charged past Arther into the corridor. Belatedly, she started after him, ignoring how the walls felt as if they were closing in on her. On trembling legs, she reached the dreaded door.

And found her brother slumped in the doorway.

Cora’s first reaction was relief. The room inside looked nothing like the one from her nightmare. The bed had been moved from its previous location, the linens elegant and new. Violet brocade curtains were drawn open to welcome the last glow of sunlight as it dipped behind the Cambron Mountains.

Cora’s muscles uncoiled as every remnant of fear faded away. In its place, calm settled over her, and her attention narrowed on her brother. She approached him with slow steps.

He held his face in his hands while his shoulders heaved with sobs. “Linette!” he wailed.

Cora reached out a timid hand and let it hover just above his shoulder. She wasn’t used to comforting others. Over the last six years, she hadn’t allowed herself to become close to anyone but Maiya and Salinda. Sympathy had become something she’d refused to accept. In turn, she wasn’t sure if she knew how to give it.

Then she recalled the way she’d opened up to Valorre as her friend. The softness that had melted her heart when she and Teryn rescued the baby unicorn. The fierce protectiveness she’d felt when Teryn was wounded at the battle.

She had been capable of sympathy, kindness, and care, even when she hadn’t meant to be.

Right now, her brother needed that from her.

She let her hand fall the rest of the way onto his shoulder. “Dimi.”

He cried harder as he angled his head toward her. “I remember. I remember it, Aveline.” He pointed to the room. “You were there. And I thought…oh, seven gods, I let him convince me…”

“It’s all right,” she whispered over the lump in her throat.

“You tried to tell me. You tried, and I…I ordered you to the dungeon. I condemned you to die.”

“It’s over now.”

He leaned against the doorframe, shoulders slumped. “But then…then I saw your body. You’d died too.” His eyes met hers, and there was a wild quality in them. “You’d died, Aveline. I saw that too. I saw—” He blinked hard several times, his body trembling with convulsions.

Lurel came up beside them while Arther wrung his hands farther down the hall. Lurel’s face was pale as she watched the king. She pointed a thumb over her shoulder. “I should go. I must tell my father the king is unwell.”

An urgent feeling, a clairsentient warning, had Cora rounding on the girl. She wasn’t sure why she was suddenly so panicked, until something dawned on her.

Verdian’s threat echoed in her mind.

If Dimetreus’ council deems him incapable of the crown at any point, he will be forced to abdicate at once .

“You will not,” Cora said, pinning the girl with a hard look. “This is a private matter. The king is grieving.”

“But…but my father asked me to report to him if?—”

“I don’t care what he asked of you. You will not embarrass the king in his time of need. You will stay here until he has recovered and speak not a word of this incident.”

Lurel worried her lip. Even through her shields, Cora could feel the girl’s conflict. Lurel desperately wanted Cora to like her but knew better than to disobey her father.

Cora softened her tone. “I’m sure your father only had the king’s best interests in mind when he asked you to report on his actions, but this isn’t the kind of situation he meant. This is simply grief. You don’t understand my brother’s complex past nor the dark history this castle bears, and to spread word of this would be a great dishonor to the king you now serve.”

Lurel sank to her knees, head bowed. “Forgive me, Highness. I didn’t mean to offend you or the king. I’m sure you’re right.”

Cora stalked past Lurel toward the steward. “Master Arther, how about we show you where our rooms are, and if they are not ready for us, then do whatever it takes to have them prepared by the end of the day.” She was surprised at the demand in her voice. It was a tone she hadn’t spoken with since she was a child. Or perhaps the few times she’d argued with Teryn.

Master Arther straightened and gave her a nod. “It will be done, Your Highness.”

Satisfied that she had the situation under control, she returned to her brother. Doing nothing more than resting her hand on his shoulder, she let him cry. Let him grieve the memories that pained him and rail against the ones he’d lost. She kept her eyes dry, her composure strong.

Later , she told herself. Later she’d let herself cry too.

Now there was work to be done.