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S ilence fell over the council table. Not all eyes turned to Cora, for only the men who’d already been at Ridine knew the significance of the North Tower Library. But the faces that had locked on hers were ashen.

Lord Kevan, on the other hand, grew flushed. He spoke through his teeth, each word clipped. “What about the library?”

She kept her tone neutral, her composure steady. “I’d like to oversee its…” She paused to consider the best word to complete her sentence, knowing she needed to tread carefully with this topic. “Renovations.”

Kevan scoffed. “There will be no renovations of the North Tower Library. The door has been locked and the stairwell leading to it will be guarded night and day.”

“How long?” Cora countered.

“I just stated night and day?—”

“Yes, but for how long? Forever? Shall guarding the stairwell become some grand tradition passed down through every ruler to come?”

With the hole still open in Cora’s shields, she could feel his growing discomfort. Not because the topic was related to his daughter’s death, but because he had no answer to give.

She arched a brow. “You haven’t thought it through, have you?”

Ulrich lifted a hand from his slouched position. “Is this stairwell the same that Lady Lurel took a tumble down?”

Cora flinched at his careless tone. Even she would have had more tact out of respect for Kevan’s emotions. She wondered how much love the brothers shared. Perhaps very little.

Kevan glanced across the table at Ulrich. “Yes, and I am determined to see that her fate goes unrepeated. Meanwhile, Her Highness wants to gallivant around hanging tapestries.”

“You mistake me, Lord Kevan,” Cora said. “When I said renovate, I did not mean redecorate. I meant that I want to dispose of every item in that room.”

Kevan had nothing to say to that. She slid her gaze to Dimetreus. He’d been quiet since she’d brought up unicorns and now the library. But when she met his eyes, he gave her a solemn nod.

Emboldened by his approval, she addressed the council. “What most of you don’t know is that the North Tower Library was once the duke’s private study. It is full of deadly items.”

“What kinds of items?” one of Ulrich’s men asked, tone skeptical. “Knives? Swords? A guillotine?” He grinned at the councilmen across the table but none shared his amusement.

“Grimoires,” Cora said. “Poisons. Traps. You may have decided to dissociate the duke from magic, but that won’t change the things he left in that room. We must get rid of them.”

Ulrich waved a flippant hand. “So we’ll haul everything out and burn it.”

“Not everything can be burned. Besides, some things are too dangerous to be touched by those unaware of the threats the objects pose.” She was tempted to tell the truth about Lurel’s death, but it wasn’t her place. Kevan was the girl’s father, and regardless of how much Cora despised him, he was grieving. She couldn’t bring herself to illustrate the gory truth if Kevan didn’t want it known. She’d let him stick to his tale about a tumble down the stairs if that’s what he needed. So long as it didn’t prevent her from doing what needed to be done, that is.

Kevan spoke, and this time his tone was tired. Empty. “Which is why I’ve decided to keep the room locked instead.”

“Which is admirable,” Cora confessed, “but not sustainable. The only way to make that room safe is to destroy everything inside it.”

“But you just stated that the room is too dangerous,” Ulrich said.

Cora nodded. “For those unaware, yes.”

He quirked a brow. “But you are…aware?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

Cora’s pulse quickened, her heart rocketing in her chest. It was time to take the conversation into more dangerous territory. Should she make one wrong move, she could undo all the work she’d done to get Dimetreus back on the throne. She could contradict all the necessary lies she’d told the inquisitors to convince them she wasn’t a witch. Maybe she should wait to ruffle feathers until after the peace pact was signed, when Verdian’s threats to seize her kingdom could no longer bear fruit.

But this couldn’t wait.

A little bit of truth. A little bit of lie. That will keep me safe .

Her words came out slow. Careful. “I’ve been trained to detect and dispose of the threats that are in that library.”

Silence fell over the table once more. She couldn’t bear to look at anyone but her brother, and when she met his eyes, she found a flash of confusion in them.

One of Ulrich’s men broke the silence. “Clarify for me, Highness, but are you talking about magic?”

Her throat felt dry as she worked out her answer, but before she could speak, Kevan’s icy tone struck her. “You told the inquisitors you harbored no magic. That you were not like those…those people we saw during battle.”

She stiffened, knowing he was referring to the Forest People. She’d wanted so badly to keep them out of the inquisitors’ report, but the soldiers from Menah and Selay had seen them. They’d witnessed them wielding roots and vines—a stunning feat only the descendants of the Faeryn could do with their Magic of Soil, and something Cora hadn’t even known was possible until she’d seen it with her own eyes.

Every other Art Cora had witnessed before that had been quiet magic: a clairvoyant witch’s vision of a future event that came to pass, a Faeryn’s miraculous ability to track prey long since gone, a claircognizant witch’s keen knowing that something was true, a Faeryn’s gift to nourish poisoned soil and bring dead plants back to life. All things that could be easily explained away. Cora often felt that way about her own magic.

But what the Faeryn had done at Centerpointe Rock…that kind of Art was the opposite of quiet. It had been loud. Obvious. Irrefutable. And the only way to protect the Forest People had been to admit that they’d been on their side. That they’d seen Morkai as an enemy and used their magic to aid Menah and Selay.

Lord Danforth shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Are we referring to the…the vine witches?”

Sweat prickled the back of Cora’s neck. She knew it was a losing battle to try and explain what a witch truly was, that they didn’t deserve the fear and scorn they received. Instead, she confessed what might be a little easier to swallow. “The people who aided us at Centerpointe Rock—the people who kept me safe from Morkai for six years—are descendants of the Faeryn people.”

“Faeryn people,” Ulrich echoed with a laugh. “We’re talking about faeries now?”

“The Faeryn are the same as the unicorns are,” Cora said. “An ancient race that has survived extinction.”

“And can wield deadly magic,” Kevan said. He threw his hands in the air. “Why the seven devils are we talking about the library when we should be discussing how to round up these dangerous earth mages?”

Cora shot forward in her seat. “They aren’t dangerous.”

“Those who were at Centerpointe Rock will disagree.”

“They fought on our side.”

“This time,” one of Ulrich’s men muttered. “Who’s to say they won’t fight against us next time?”

“They are living on the king’s land,” another man said, “paying no taxes, no dues. They must be hunted down.”

“No!” Cora shouted, but her voice was drowned out by sounds of agreement.

“Especially if they taught the princess magic,” Danforth said.

One of Kevan’s men looked at Cora sidelong. “They may have planted her here to claim the dead princess’ identity.”

She rose to her feet, her palms slamming against the edge of the table. “My identity has already been determined.”

Kevan narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps my brother made a mistake. A mistake he still has time to remedy.”

Rage coursed through her, burning through her mental shields. Strains of emotion slammed against her—suspicion, repulsion, amusement, fear. The energies threatened to overwhelm her, to pull her down and override her self-control, but her anger somehow steadied her. That and the feel of the table’s hard edge beneath her curling palms.

She honed her attention on Kevan, the instigator of this sudden chaos, and felt a violent pull toward him. Every inch of her body felt the ease with which she could take a single step—not the twenty or so paces she’d have to travel by foot, but a singular move through time and space—to reach the man and strangle the stubbornness from his bearded neck. Her palms tingled, as if she could already feel his flesh?—

“Enough!”

Dimetreus’ voice bellowed through the room, leaving tense silence in its wake. He stood at the opposite end of the table, hands planted on the table much like her own. His chest heaved as he glared from one man to the next. When he spoke, his voice came out with a deadly chill. “What kind of circus has King Verdian appointed to my council table?”

The men had the good sense to keep quiet.

“My sister’s identity is not up for debate. Fail to respect that and I’ll dismiss you from this council at once. Should King Verdian have a godsdamned thing to say about that, he can take it up with me, as I am his equal. I am King of Khero. This is my kingdom, my home, and my council. Don’t you dare forget it.”

Cora’s rage began to melt away, leaving her trembling as she attempted to steady her breathing. Slowly, she lowered herself back into her chair. Thoughts of Kevan’s neck beneath her hands filled her memory. For a moment there…she’d felt like she was about to use her mysterious ability again. Or had that simply been a violent fantasy? Whatever the case, it left her head spinning. Closing her eyes, she touched upon the elements and let her shields wrap around her.

When she opened her eyes, her brother spoke again. “We can try to pretend magic doesn’t exist, and I agree that for the public, it is safer if we do. But not here. Not behind these closed doors where such matters are tantamount to this kingdom’s safety. Six years ago, I ignored the possibility of magic, and I ended up ensnared in its web. Duke Morkai was a sorcerer, and my ignorance allowed me to be controlled by him, my mind invaded, my memories altered. I will not let that happen again. Not to me. Not to anyone else.”

Dimetreus returned to his seat. “Now, we are not here to talk about the people who gave sanctuary to my sister. Yes, they used magic. Yes, they fought on our side. We will do our due diligence to ensure they pose no threat to this kingdom, but we want them as allies, not enemies. So we will not be hunting them down or rounding them up. Once this council has proven itself capable of good sense, then perhaps we’ll send an envoy to open peaceful talks between us and them.”

Cora’s chest warmed. Despite his shortcomings, both recently and in the past, she was growing more and more impressed by him.

Kevan opened his mouth, but Dimetreus continued before he could utter a word. “We will return to the topic Her Highness has brought forth. While she has been considerate of your sensitivities to the subject of magic, I will not be. The North Tower Library is filled with dark magic, poison, and enchanted objects. If Princess Aveline has a way to neutralize the threat, we must hear her out. Sister, please continue.”

Twelve sets of eyes turned toward Cora. She didn’t need to lower her shields to feel the tension in the room or know that the councilmen gave her their attention begrudgingly. It didn’t matter, so long as it allowed her to do what needed to be done.

“My brother is correct,” she said, doing her best to keep her voice calm. Even. “The library is filled with dark magic. It doesn’t matter if you believe that to be true or not. Should you care only for science, then let me tell you that there are violent compounds in that room, ones too dangerous to discard in a lake or pour onto the earth. Additionally, there are secret traps laced with poisons. Ones too small to see with the naked eye but deadly enough to kill. For example, following Lady Lurel’s unfortunate accident, I investigated the room and found a book affixed with a needle hidden in its clasp. The needle had been laced with poison, pricking anyone who opened it and resulting in a quick death.”

She met Kevan’s gaze to see if he understood that she was describing how Lurel had died. The only sign he gave was a slight widening of his eyes. Of course, she still hadn’t told the full truth. She’d left out the part about the blood weaving and replaced it with poison, as that was something Kevan and the other councilmen could accept.

Lord Danforth’s throat bobbed. “How are you able to detect traps and poisons?”

She took a deep breath. A little bit of truth. A little bit of lie. Focus on the things they can easily understand.

“The Faeryn descendants I lived with for the last six years taught me many things. Healing practices. Herbal remedies. Living so deep in the woods required many precautions. I was taught to smell for poisonous herbs and flowers. How to detect hidden traps laid by hunters. I know the signs. I know the scents. Most importantly, I know how to safely discard these things. I know how to navigate a trap without setting it off. I know which compounds can be burned, which can be diluted in water, and which must never be opened under any circumstances. The duke’s poisons bear labels only I can decipher with my knowledge of plant species.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Kevan said, speaking slowly as if any inflection might spark Dimetreus’ wrath again. “You’re the king’s heir. Or you will be once we’ve formalized the peace treaty.” He rushed to say the last part.

Cora blanched. His words reminded her of the marriage alliance she’d agreed to, one that would secure her position as Dimetreus’ heir in the eyes of his council. Now that Larylis had married Mareleau, would she be paired with…no, she couldn’t let herself think of that. Matrimony was the least of her worries.

“I appreciate your concern over my safety,” she said, trying not to sound too mocking, “but this is something I must do. Even if we keep the stairwell guarded, the day will come when one of the sentries makes a mistake. Someone will grow too daring. Or a guard will leave his post and let a curious servant slip past. Keeping the room locked and shrouded in mystery will only draw more attention to it. We cannot risk another accident happening again. The sooner you agree to support my work, the sooner we’ll truly be free of the last vestiges of Morkai’s influence.”

The councilmen exchanged glances while Cora looked to her brother again. His face had grown wan, which told her his composure was beginning to dissolve.

“If we support this plan,” Ulrich said, “I must insist that the room remains guarded at all times for your safety.”

She pursed her lips to keep from smirking; she knew he cared less about her safety and more about having her under surveillance. It didn’t matter. They could watch all they liked. She’d be using quiet magic. No one would be able to claim she was up to anything sinister.

“As long as no guard steps foot beyond the threshold of the room,” she said, “I am grateful for the protection you offer.”

“I approve of your proposal, Aveline,” Dimetreus said. His lips flickered with a sad smile. “Please be careful.”

She dipped her chin in a gracious nod.

Kevan released an irritated grunt. “Shall we conclude and reconvene tomorrow? I think we’d all benefit from a fresh start in the morning.”

Without you , his glare told Cora.

It didn’t matter. She’d leave the councilmen to their own devices on the morrow. While she was far from finished regarding the hunting of unicorns, she’d at least succeeded in regard to Morkai’s tower.

The meeting ended, and she scurried out of the council room, unable to stop the victorious smile that curled her lips.

Maybe a witch can be a princess .