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M orning dawned, but peace did not rise with the sun. Cora stayed in bed as sunlight streamed through her window, crawling up the walls and dancing over her ceiling. All the while she hoped she’d feel some of that light reflected in her heart. But she didn’t. She remained burdened with the same dark revelations she’d stumbled upon last night. No matter how she wished otherwise, a curse placed by a dead man had invaded her life, throwing all her carefully laid plans into disarray.

And yet, when it came to said plans, she had to admit some of the folly lay with her. She’d been naive to think she could easily exit her role as princess. That all she had to do was ensure Dimetreus was secure on his throne. There was more to this political game than she’d anticipated. A game of heirs and royal bloodlines. Now, because of Morkai, she was unable to play the game at all. She’d lost the one piece that had made her a contender on the board.

The ability to further the Caelan bloodline.

She hated that something so small—something so intimate and personal—determined her worth as a royal woman. Hated it so much that it burned away the edges of her sorrow, replacing them with something sharper. Wilder. Fiercer.

Where last night she’d felt pain, only anger existed in her now.

It was enough to drive her out of bed, to make her throw back the bedsheets with awakening resolve. She stomped over to her vanity, splashed water on her face from the ewer, and set about getting herself dressed. Sera hadn’t returned since Cora had sent her and Mareleau’s other two ladies away when they’d tried to fetch her from the tower last night. Cora hadn’t even deigned to deny them to their faces. Instead, she’d ordered the stairwell sentry to forbid anyone from coming upstairs. By the time she’d gathered her composure enough to leave the tower room, the three girls were long gone. Perhaps they’d been offended by her refusal to entertain their efforts, but Cora didn’t have it in her to care.

She donned a linen summer dress that laced up the front, tightening each row with far more force than necessary. Each pull was infused with her rage. Her hatred.

How dare Morkai. How dare he make a lasting impact on her life in such an invasive, perverse way. How dare he have so much influence beyond the grave, great enough to shatter Cora’s heart. To break what she and Teryn were beginning to forge.

Teryn .

Her hands went slack on her laces, and her shoulders dropped. The thought of him broke through her anger, blunting it with sorrow yet again.

Her eyes went unfocused as she tried to imagine what she should say to him today. How she should act. She couldn’t avoid him after insisting she only needed one night alone. Yet she didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know how to tell him about Morkai’s curse. Sure, she knew the words she needed to say, but it was one thing to know and another to actually confess something so deeply intimate, something that pertained to the inner workings of her body. Her heart. Her soul.

Her chest constricted, but she breathed the tightness away. Shifting her gaze to the morning light streaming through the window, she called upon the element of fire.

Light. Heat. Warmth.

Passion. Anger. Rage.

Life force. Strength. Transmutation.

The sunlight heated her insides, evoking her anger. It surged from her chest to her palms. With renewed vigor, she finished lacing her bodice and tied off the ends. Then, closing her eyes, she strengthened her connection to the other elements.

She rooted her feet to the stone floor.

Earth. Safety. Protection.

Took a fortifying breath, in then out.

Air. Thoughts. Intellect.

She acknowledged the element of water— feeling, emotion —but it was already too strong. She needed less water right now. Less emotion and more strength of will. Steady logic. Keen insight.

Calm settled over her. It wasn’t the most peaceful calm, for she still didn’t know how to express herself to Teryn. A night of agonizing over the situation hadn’t given her any answers. Perhaps there weren’t any. None that were easy, at least.

But she knew what she could do. What she must do.

She’d funnel her rage, her attention, and her energy into the only suitable recourse: clearing Morkai’s tower. And maybe—just maybe—if she was willing to take a risk and do something just a little reckless, she might be able to find the information she needed to break this damn curse.

Teryn hated sitting still. He’d forgotten this feeling. Forgotten the anxiety that had plagued him in the wake of his father’s death. The time between Centerpointe Rock and Cora’s official release from Verlot had been pure agony when he hadn’t been moving. Doing. Fixing. He’d felt some relief after Cora had been given back her title, and every moment since had been filled with distraction—first helping his brother step into his role as king, then focusing all his efforts on reuniting with Cora.

Now sitting still was all he could do.

And it was torture.

He’d kept his ethera aligned with his body for hours on end. At least, he assumed hours had passed. His ethera didn’t feel the passing of time the way his body had been able to. There were no hunger pangs, no bodily urges. His primary relationship to time now was his growing anxiety.

“Breathe, Teryn.” Emylia’s words made him want to clench his jaw, but the mild buzzing resistance his ethera generated lacked the satisfaction he was used to.

Which gave him no choice but to listen. To tune back in to the feel of his breath, the rush of his blood, the rhythmic pulse of his heart. Despite his irritation over Emylia’s constant reminders, she was right. The strength of his connection to his vitale—the one bodily sensation he could consistently feel—always calmed his nerves. With his soul lying in perfect harmony with his body’s shape, his spiritual heart-center aligned with his sternum, his ethera’s eyes aligned with his body’s eyes, his soul’s feet nestled within his body’s feet, he could almost pretend he was whole again.

“Good,” Emylia said. “You’re going to try some subtle muscular movements again.”

A spike of panic flared inside him. He’d tried to control small muscular movements already and failed miserably. According to Emylia, if he had any chance at reclaiming his body, he needed to not only strengthen his connection to his vitale but also to the thin thread that linked him to his cereba. The only reason he even had that tiny link was due to his connection to his vitale. While Morkai reigned over Teryn’s conscious movements, Teryn maintained a sliver that controlled his automatic functions like breathing, blinking, and swallowing. Emylia had surmised that if Teryn could intentionally create small movements related to these automatic functions, he could learn to control larger ones next.

He hadn’t managed so much as a flinch the first time he’d tried, which had resulted in him flying into a panicked rage and losing his connection to his vitale entirely.

“You must start small and be patient,” Emylia had said. “You will get there.”

That same anxiety filled him now—of being inside his body, yet unable to move it. He tuned back in to his breath, his pulse, his blood, and felt the panic melt away.

Emylia kept her voice slow and gentle. “Now shift your attention to what’s outside your body. Focus on the sensation of the blankets against your back. Feel the pillows cradling your head, brushing against your cheek.”

He followed along, noting the various levels of resistance generated between each object and his ethera. It didn’t feel quite the same as it should, but he tried not to dwell on that.

“Now focus on a single finger on your right hand,” Emylia said. “Pour all your attention there. Feel the pressure of your fingertip against the blankets. The connection between the finger and your hand. Then your hand to your arm. Arm to shoulder. Shoulder to neck. Neck to spine. Spine to mind. Then follow it back down to your finger.”

Teryn did as she said, following his awareness of each part of his body. Or was it just his ethera he was noting? He supposed it didn’t matter. Emylia moved him through the exercise again and again until he felt a strange hum in his ethera, filling the space he was focusing on, rippling from his mind to his fingertip.

“Good,” Emylia whispered. “Now send a single surge of awareness from your mind to your finger. Don’t try to figure out how. Just trust. This is an automatic function. A flinch. You maintain that link. You can send energy through that circuit. That’s all you’re doing now. Are you ready?”

He breathed in deeply, felt his lungs expand. Felt the resistance between his back and the mattress shift with the movement. Felt the subtle sway in the energy from his mind to his hand, then back to his mind. He settled his attention at the top of his head. Then, with a rush of single-minded intent, he sent his awareness down his neck, his arm, his hand, and into his finger. The energy echoed back his intent with a flinch of movement.

“You did it,” Emylia said, keeping her voice level despite the excitement it contained. “You moved your finger.

Teryn’s pulse quickened in response to his shock. He…did it. He finally managed to move something?—

A sudden wave of energy tore through his chest, and he felt as if he were torn in two. He shifted his attention to his surroundings, to the bed in the dark bedroom, the pale morning light creeping in through the closed curtains. His eyes fell on his own back, upright and no longer aligned with his ethera. His body moved of its own accord—no, Morkai’s accord—glancing left and right, eyes blinking furiously.

This was the first time he’d witnessed his body being operated by Morkai, and it drained all the pride he’d felt in having made his finger flinch. What good was a damn flinch when Morkai could make his body sit? Stand. Walk. Talk.

Keeping his eyes on his now-awake form, he slowly shifted away from Morkai and slid from the bed. “You did great,” Emylia said, standing at his side. “We will practice again next time he rests.”

Teryn could only nod, eyes trained on Morkai.

The sorcerer ran a hand through his stolen body’s hair, then threw back the covers.

Before Emylia could chastise him for his growing anxiety, Teryn focused on the sensations of his vitale, reminding himself that his heart was still his own. His breath kept his body alive. His blood pulsed through that body, even as Morkai made it walk across the room to the wardrobe.

“Does he know we’re here?” Teryn asked. “Can he see us? Hear us?”

“No,” Emylia said. “He’s fully immersed in operating your body. He has no awareness of the spiritual plane we stand in now.”

That gave him some relief.

“Now that he’s awake,” Emylia said, “you should rest your ethera. If you don’t rest it on purpose, your ethera will eventually give you no choice. It’s better you do so now so that you’ll be at your best when Morkai sleeps. You aren’t strong enough to wrest control of your body while he’s awake yet.”

Teryn debated the wisdom of her words, but he couldn’t stand the thought of resting while Morkai did devils-know-what in his body. “I want to see where he goes. What he does. I need to know what his plan is.”

Morkai stripped off his nightshirt, giving Teryn the first glimpse of the crystal. It was wrapped in a thin strip of leather and secured around his neck on a long cord, the crystal itself resting at his sternum.

“We know what his plan is,” Emylia said. “It’s the same as it’s always been. He intends to become the Morkaius of Lela.”

Teryn whipped his gaze to her. “Morkaius? What is a Morkaius?”

She frowned. “Princess Aveline hasn’t told you everything.”

Mention of Cora struck him with a hollow ache. He recalled her tears last night, how she’d begged him to leave her alone. Now he’d give anything to take it all back, to storm up those stairs and refuse to leave her. He’d tolerate her rage, her ire, if it meant preventing what was happening now. If only he’d remembered the crystal. Perhaps she’d have had some idea how to destroy it…

Or would that only have gotten her trapped in his place?

Emylia’s voice roused him from his thoughts. “ Morkaius comes from the ancient fae language. It means High King of Magic. Morkai is not the sorcerer’s real name but a title he’s given himself. It means King of Magic. He intends to become Morkaius by ruling all three kingdoms of the land once known as Lela.”

“Why?” Teryn shifted his gaze back to Morkai, saw him securing the buttons of one of Teryn’s shirts, then donning a waistcoat.

“Ruling over Lela will allow Morkai to tap into an immense well of fae magic. That magic isn’t meant to be wielded by a single person, and if he does harness it, he’ll be able to do terrible things.”

Teryn shuddered. He remembered how Morkai had boasted that he’d one day be King of Lela—that Dimetreus would conquer the three kingdoms, and Morkai would inherit rule after the king’s passing. “If ruling over Lela has always been his goal, why did he even bother going through King Dimetreus and using him as a puppet?”

“To claim the magic,” Emylia explained, “he must first inherit the land. Not through conquest either. Specifically, the crown must be given not taken , which suggests his best bet is to insert himself into the line of succession.”

Morkai finished dressing and assessed his reflection in the mirror beside the wardrobe. Outfitted in Teryn’s trousers, shirt, waistcoat, and jacket, no sign of the crystal or the leather strap could be seen. Seemingly satisfied with what Morkai saw in the mirror, he lifted Teryn’s lips in a smug grin that looked nothing like his own.

“Are you starting to understand why Morkai chose you?” Emylia asked.

“What do you mean he chose me?”

“You were his target all along, which is why the crystal’s magic was so strong with you. Why you forgot its existence so easily. Why you were so drawn to look at it. While the crystal is enchanted to have some semblance of self-preservation, its magic works strongest around Morkai’s targets.”

Dread filled every inch of his ethera. “And he specifically wanted me so he could…” He couldn’t bring himself to finish, to even think it.

Emylia filled in the blanks for him. “He wanted your body so he could use your identity, your title, and your position to become Morkaius. To inherit the three kingdoms of Lela and control the magic of the ancient fae.”

He still didn’t understand the magic of the fae or even the full extent of what it meant to be Morkaius. The implications of Morkai’s intent were enough to occupy his thoughts. If the sorcerer intended to use Teryn’s body to accomplish his means, then his first step…

“It’s because of Cora, isn’t it?” His voice came out with a tremor, even though his words were no longer shaped with vocal cords. “It’s because I am betrothed to her, and she is Dimetreus’ heir. Through her, he could position himself as future King Consort of Khero.”

Emylia’s face fell with sympathy. “That is undoubtedly his first of many steps.”

Teryn felt that agonizing urge to move, to act, to fix. Morkai was going to try to marry Cora in Teryn’s stead. Surely she’d see through him! She had her magic, her ability to sense others’ emotions. She’d notice Teryn wasn’t who he appeared to be.

Wouldn’t she?

Or would she continue to sense Teryn’s soul as his own, oblivious to the fact that he was trapped in a crystal?

His only solace was that Cora and Teryn’s marriage wasn’t set for another year. If Morkai had the patience to play such a long game, Teryn could too. He’d strengthen his vitale, reclaim his cereba, and then?—

A strange pulling sensation sent Teryn’s ethera surging forward. Morkai had left the mirror and was now exiting the room.

“You and I are bound to the crystal,” Emylia said, following after Morkai. “We are only able to project our etheras within the stone’s immediate surroundings. So when the crystal moves, so do we. If not willingly, then by force.”

Teryn caught up with the sensation pulling his ethera and measured his steps behind Morkai’s. Belatedly, he realized he probably didn’t need to walk at all. Surely the act of setting one foot before the other was only for show. An instinct belonging to the outer layer of his ethera, like how Emylia had explained about their means of communication. Should he want, he could probably float in Morkai’s wake.

The thought was as disturbing as speaking mind-to-mind had been. No matter what he was now—disembodied spirit or no—he would continue acting as alive as he could.

“Are you certain you wouldn’t rather rest your ethera?” Emylia asked as they trailed Morkai through the halls of the keep. “Since I have no ties to a mortal body, I don’t require rest the same way you and Morkai do now. I can keep watch and wake you if there’s anything I think you should see.”

He knew she was right, and he thought he could trust her. She was trapped, same as he. And yet, now that he knew what Morkai planned—that marrying Cora was his primary goal—he couldn’t stand the thought of not witnessing his every move.

“Just a little longer,” Teryn said. “I just want to see where he’s?—”

All thoughts fled his mind as Morkai rounded the next corner…and froze. It seemed Teryn and Morkai were of the same mind, equally as unprepared to see the person who halted before them.

Teryn’s heart thundered in a chest that was no longer his own. He breathed her name in a voice she couldn’t hear. “Cora.”