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T eryn spent another night lying within the intangible bounds of his body, trying to influence muscle movement. After two hours, he managed another flinch of his finger. After three, a flutter of his eyelids. At least he thought he did. Unless it was merely coincidence that Emylia had witnessed Teryn’s lashes lift just as he’d been directing all his intent to those minuscule muscles, he’d succeeded.

Yet it still wasn’t enough. It was nothing compared to what he needed to do. Trying to force these subtle movements took all the strength of will he had. He couldn’t imagine how long it might take to control enough of his body to remove the crystal from around his neck. He might go mad before then.

No , he told himself. I will not give in to my own futility. I will build the strength required to do this or I will die trying.

He shifted on the bed, feeling the edges of his ethera buzz from the contact it made with his body and the mattress beneath it. After connecting to his breath, blood, and pulse, he tried to refocus on his current task: parting his lips. No matter how he tried, his mind kept shifting to Cora. To worry. To fear.

He hated that Cora had no clue what was going on. Hated that she perceived Morkai’s coldness to her as his own. At the same time, he was grateful for Morkai’s outward indifference. If it kept Cora from getting too close to Morkai, Teryn would let her think anything at all. He’d sever ties with her for good if it prevented the sorcerer from using their relationship the way he intended. Furthermore, Morkai’s avoidance of Cora gave Teryn the time he needed to reclaim his body. There wasn’t much Morkai could do to further his goals until he was married to Cora. Right? Surely he could defeat this challenge by the end of a year.

Just the thought that it could take even a fraction of that time sent a flicker of anxiety through him…

“Breathe, Teryn,” Emylia reminded him.

He clenched his jaw, creating a buzz of resistance tingling over the bottom half of his face, but he did as she suggested. He refocused on the air filling his lungs, on the steady thrum of his pulse, until his mind cleared of panic. Then he shifted his attention to his mouth, feeling the energy hum where his body and ethera were perfectly aligned. On an inhale, he experienced the air moving through his nostrils, unsure whether this sensation belonged to his body or ethera. Perhaps some place between where the two were connected. Slowly, he exhaled and felt the air tingle his upper lip. He repeated this meditation several times until he could imagine he was simply resting like normal—whole and alive. Then, on his next exhale, he shifted the course of the air escaping his lungs, sending it out his mouth instead.

His lips parted. The air left his mouth in a soft, easy breath.

Surprise sparked the edges of Teryn’s consciousness, but he reined it in, determined to stay focused. He controlled several more mouth breaths, then shifted his attention to the back of his throat. To his tongue. The roof of his mouth. His vocal cords.

Excitement rippled through him as the idea took shape. If he could simply control his voice—form words for just the right person—he wouldn’t need to wait until he could move his entire body. He could shout a warning. Get help.

His throat was warm with the heat of his breath, with the harmonious vibration humming between his body and ethera. On his next exhale, he sent a surge of energy, will, and intention, through his throat and vocal cords, lifting his tongue to the roof of his mouth?—

Energy tore through him, ripping, separating, and his body bolted upright, leaving his ethera reclined on the bed. Morkai heaved a cough and pushed back the covers, motions agitated.

“Seven devils,” Teryn cursed, leaving the bed to stand beside Emylia.

“Don’t be discouraged.” Her smile was warm, dark eyes glittering. Today she was dressed in billowing ivory pants and a knitted cream tunic. It occurred to him that he never had any awareness of his own appearance, much less what he was wearing. A quick glance down revealed the same articles of clothing he wore the night he was trapped in the crystal. It didn’t matter to him, for it wasn’t like he had any sense of comfort or discomfort when it came to his ethera’s state of dress. He assumed it was merely a construct of his mind, anyway. Or perhaps a mirage shaped by Emylia’s magic.

Emylia’s smile grew wider. “You did really well this time. You accomplished three muscular manipulations, and I could sense what you were trying to do at the end.”

Teryn shook his head. “I failed. It woke him up.”

“You didn’t fail. You’ve already gotten stronger.”

Teryn narrowed his eyes at the sorcerer who paraded about the room in Teryn’s body, donning clothing with haste.

“You should rest your ethera,” Emylia said. “It must be exhausted after what you accomplished.”

“No, not yet,” Teryn said. “Not until I see what he plans to do today.”

Teryn and Emylia followed Morkai through the castle as he strolled, dined, and greeted courtiers and councilmen. He seemed to lack an agenda until he began making inquiries of servants and staff, asking whether the king was holding court today and if Teryn had received any new correspondences. Teryn saw no sign of Cora, and he wasn’t sure whether to feel sorrow or relief.

Finally, Morkai left the great hall to enter a separate building Teryn had never seen before. Its outer walls were crumbling and marked with ivy-shaped shadows that suggested the trailing vines had recently been removed. The building rose into a tall arch, its apex carved with a circle bearing seven interlocking spheres, marking it as a Godskeep. Teryn’s eyes trailed back down the building, landing on two guards who stood outside the door. As Morkai approached, the guards made no move to open it.

One guard stepped forward. “His Majesty is at prayer.”

“I too came for prayer,” Morkai said, far more brazenly than Teryn would have dared. “I am soon to be the king’s brother-in-law. He will not mind my attendance, for we pray for the good of the same kingdom.”

Teryn cringed at the sound of his voice. It was his voice, his tone, but the way Morkai spoke…it sounded nothing like him. Yet of course these guards wouldn’t know that. They’d been planted at Ridine from Selay. The only person here who could possibly see through Morkai’s ruse was the very woman the sorcerer was determined to avoid.

When neither guard showed any sign of allowing Morkai inside, he lowered his voice. “To be honest, Lord Kevan asked me to come here for reasons I’m sure you understand.”

The guards exchanged a look that set Teryn’s teeth on edge. Despite now serving the king, they clearly maintained allegiance to Kevan. Had Morkai already gleaned the tense power dynamic here at Ridine? Did he know Dimetreus was still under scrutiny by Verdian and his brothers—the men who were supposed to be the king’s new allies? If Morkai had been able to project his ethera outside the crystal the way Teryn and Emylia could, then he must have been able to collect at least some intel before having taken over Teryn’s body. Not to mention the fact that he’d been off on his own much of yesterday while Teryn had been resting his ethera.

“I’ll inform the king of your request,” one of the guards said and entered the Godskeep.

Teryn frowned. What did Morkai want with the king? Whatever it was, it filled Teryn with a sinking sensation.

“Are you certain you wouldn’t rather rest?” Emylia asked, tone wary. He met her eyes and found trepidation in them. She wrung her hands but stilled them when the movement caught Teryn’s gaze.

“Is there something you know that you aren’t telling me?” he asked.

She released her arms to her sides, donning a casual posture. Too casual.

Teryn could trust her…right?

“I’m telling you what’s for the best,” she said. “If you overexert yourself, you’ll be forced to rest anyway. Remember what happened yesterday?”

Teryn knew she was referring to the way he’d lost consciousness after witnessing Morkai’s conversation with Cora. He shrugged. “So be it. I want to know what business Morkai has with Cora’s brother. I will watch their interaction for as long as I can.”

“Just…just know that there’s nothing you can do right now.” She spoke slowly. Carefully. “Whatever happens, whatever you overhear, we can only continue with our plan.”

Teryn’s sense of unease increased, but the guard returned, pulling Teryn’s focus back to the Godskeep door.

“The king will see you,” the guard said, opening the door for Morkai to pass.

Teryn and Emylia shadowed Morkai through the antechamber, then to the nave. It was much smaller and darker than Dermaine’s, with no bright tapestries, no painted ceiling, and no stained-glass windows. Its only adornments were a red carpet that ran from the doorway to the dais, a long wooden table that served as an altar, and seven statues of the seven gods that rested upon it. At the foot of the dais, Dimetreus kneeled. He was dressed in ceremonial robes in Khero’s violet, embroidered with threads of gold and the kingdom’s black mountain sigil on the back. A simple gold circlet rested upon his brow, while a bejeweled dagger hung at his waist. Teryn’s gaze slid to Morkai’s hip, relieved to see he was unarmed. Even if the sorcerer had thought to bring a weapon, the guards would have disarmed him upon his entrance to the Godskeep. Only the king and his guards could enter a Godskeep armed.

Morkai strolled past the rows of benches until he reached the king. “Your Majesty,” he said with a deep bow.

Dimetreus nodded in reply. “Prince Teryn, how good of you to join me for prayer.”

“I appreciate you allowing this intrusion.”

“It’s no intrusion,” the king said, “for I am merely posturing. I’ve never been a man of prayer. A man of faith, yes, but not as faithful as I should be.”

“Is that so, my king?” Morkai strolled up the dais and lit seven sticks of incense on the small brazier burning at the center of the table. Then he placed one stick before each of the deities before returning to the king’s side. Teryn watched his every move with keen awareness, a tense wave of energy tightening his ethera. He expected Morkai to do something sinister, but he simply kneeled beside Dimetreus, positioned slightly behind as was deferential to the king.

Dimetreus spoke again. “Lords Kevan and Ulrich insist I make a show of being a penitent king to improve my image. Though I can’t see how it would help when there’s hardly a soul to witness me in here.”

“I wouldn’t say you’re without witnesses, Majesty.” Morkai gave a subtle nod toward the dais. Teryn’s gaze followed to where the king’s personal guard stood, two men on each side, nearly hidden amongst the shadows of the dark nave.

The king snorted a laugh. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he said, “I suppose you know more than anyone what position I’m in, as you had a strong hand in negotiating for my and Aveline’s pardon.”

“Yes, though I would have prevented Verdian’s stranglehold on your castle if I’d held more sway. Kevan and Ulrich are too ambitious for their own good.” Teryn hated hearing Morkai utter words that held true for Teryn. Perhaps the sorcerer was adept at playing this role after all.

“I appreciate you saying that, Prince, but…but I am in a situation of my own making. Though I wasn’t of the right mind when I attempted to declare war on Selay and Menah, I can’t change that it happened. I am willing to do whatever it takes to demonstrate my peaceful intent to my allies.” His tone was dry, rehearsed.

“Majesty, I hope you won’t fault me for being blunt, but you need not speak with caution around me. I’m on your side.”

Dimetreus gave him a warm smile. “Of course you are. You were quick to forgive me, for you saw how I was being controlled firsthand when the sorcerer brought you here. Still, I bear the burden of having neglected to see Morkai’s vile intent long before I named him duke. Even after, I’d had a choice. I could have listened to Aveline…”

His voice trailed off, eyes vacant. Haunted. Then he shook his head and rose to his feet. One of his guards rushed forward to offer him a hand, but he waved him off. The guard hesitated, then returned to his post at the end of the dais.

Morkai stood as well and faced the king with a bow.

“I’m glad my sister has you, Prince Teryn,” Dimetreus said. “I can tell your affection for her goes beyond a betrothal contract.”

Teryn was torn between feeling elated and enraged at the king’s words. Though he said them to Morkai, the sentiment was true. Teryn’s affection for Cora went beyond what he’d confessed to Dimetreus during the audience he’d had with him the night Teryn arrived. He was glad the king understood that.

But Morkai didn’t deserve to hear those words, to receive them with that smug grin of his, one that made Teryn’s face look nearly unrecognizable.

“You honor me, Majesty,” Morkai said. “I am most eager to wed the princess.”

Teryn tensed at how Morkai had emphasized eager .

“Next year, Khero will have regained enough stability to allow us to host a grand wedding,” Dimetreus said.

“I await that day with the most ardent anticipation. However, I’m surprised your council has allowed for such a lengthy engagement.”

Dimetreus gave a lighthearted chuckle. “I thought you were the one who’d suggested a yearlong betrothal, Prince. The marriage alliance had been your idea.”

Morkai’s face flashed with the slightest hint of alarm before he donned an easy smile. “Yes, I did propose the alliance, but I didn’t set the timeline.”

False , Teryn wanted to shout. He had set the timeline. He’d proposed a yearlong betrothal out of respect for Cora, out of consideration for the time he knew she’d need to adjust. The time they’d both need to fully enjoy their courtship.

“Ah,” the king said, wagging a finger. “Your heart has made you impatient. I remember that feeling well.”

“Yes, you are very right about that,” Morkai said, but his voice lacked the warmth necessary to suggest the words were true. He furrowed his brow as if deep in thought. “I am concerned with one thing. Aren’t you essentially without an heir until Aveline and I marry? Doesn’t the peace pact state that your council will only accept your sister as heir after she and I are wed?”

“That’s technically true,” Dimetreus said. “It seems you are the key, Prince Teryn, for your neutrality secures Verdian’s trust as well as that of my council.” The king’s tone turned grudging as he spoke the last part.

Morkai narrowed his eyes. “You don’t seem too happy about that.”

Dimetreus forced a smile that crinkled the skin around his eyes, but there was no mirth in it. As he glanced over at his guards, it waned completely. He lowered his voice, eyes still on his guards. “It isn’t a matter of being happy or unhappy. Aveline deserves to be heir in her own right. Yet the marriage alliance is a necessity. I’m only grateful it’s a happy one.”

Morkai’s lips lifted at the corners in another smirk that had no right twisting Teryn’s face. The expression disappeared as the king returned his gaze to Morkai.

“So, in a way,” Morkai said, “I’m just as important of an heir as the princess is. When it comes to the council’s point of view, that is. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Teryn’s pulse kicked up. He didn’t like where this conversation was going.

Dimetreus frowned. “In a manner of speaking, I suppose you could say that.”

“And you don’t think you’ll remarry?”

“No, my heart cannot part from my darling Linette. Due to my loss of memories, I feel like it’s been far less than six years since her death. I have no intention of choosing a new queen. Aveline will further the Caelan bloodline, not me.”

Morkai’s face fell with false sympathy. “You must miss her dearly.”

Dimetreus inhaled a sharp breath, and when he spoke, his voice held a quaver. “More than I can say.”

“I bet you’d do anything to bring her back.”

The king nodded.

“You’d sacrifice your own life, if need be, wouldn’t you?”

“Without question.”

Morkai stepped slightly closer. His voice dipped so low, Teryn had to move closer to hear.

“Teryn,” Emylia said, a warning in her tone, but he couldn’t be bothered to pay her heed. He had to know what Morkai was saying.

“What else would you trade, Majesty?” the sorcerer whispered. “Your kingdom? Your mind? Would you make a blood mage your heir in exchange for a promise that he could bring your wife back from the dead once he gained power over your kingdom? Or…or have you already done that?”

Teryn’s heart slammed in his chest, his lungs constricting.

“Breathe, Teryn,” Emylia said. “Keep your breaths slow and steady. Don’t lose contact now.”

Dimetreus took a trembling step back. “What…what are you saying?”

Morkai’s voice shifted into a softer tone, one far more sinister than anything that left Teryn’s lips before. It was so quiet, Teryn could barely make out the words. “Were you a willing participant after all, my king? Did you… let the duke take over your mind?”

“No, I…” Dimetreus’ chest heaved, his eyes going unfocused. “No. No, it can’t be. I wouldn’t have…”

“I’m still here, my king. We can make the deal again. Give me your mind and I’ll give you your wife. I’ll bring her back?—”

“No!” The roar leaped from the king’s throat. His lips curled up in a snarl, eyes wild. “Monster! Demon! What are you? What are you ?” In the blink of an eye, Dimetreus surged toward Morkai, the dagger at his belt suddenly unsheathed in his hand.

The guards darted from the dais, and Morkai threw up his hands and stumbled back. He fell to the ground, eyes wide with feigned terror.

Teryn watched, frozen in place, as Dimetreus tackled Morkai and held the dagger to his throat—to Teryn’s throat. A line of crimson erupted from his flesh, but Teryn couldn’t feel the cut. No, just the frantic beat of his heart. The race of his pulse. The tightness in his chest.

Spittle flew from the king’s lips as he shouted, “Demon! Demon!”

“What are you doing, Majesty?” Morkai’s voice had returned to normal, brimming with horrified innocence. “Seven gods, Majesty, look at me. Look at me! It’s me, Prince Teryn!”

Dimetreus shuttered his eyes and pulled the blade back just as the king’s guards reached them. They hauled Dimetreus up at once, eyes darting between their king and Morkai. “What happened?” one of the guards shouted.

Dimetreus continued to blink rapidly, then stared down at the knife in his restrained hand. With a cry of alarm, he dropped the blade. “Seven gods…”

Morkai slowly rose to his feet, shoulders almost as high as his ears, expression wary. “The king attacked me. We were talking and then…and then…”

Teryn’s blood burned with rage as the guards showed no sign of seeing through Morkai’s farce. Even Dimetreus seemed to take his performance as truth, a wail escaping his lips. With his crown askew and spittle speckling his chin, he looked every part the crazed king. “I’m…I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. It…it was a moment of hallucination. I’ve never had one so strong, so…”

“Keep him restrained,” one guard said to the others. “This is a matter we must take to Lord Kevan.”

The king went willingly as the guards led him through the nave. Morkai followed just behind. With the guards’ backs turned, the sorcerer’s lips curled into a satisfied smile.

Cold certainty washed over Teryn. This must have been his plan all along. He wasn’t sure of the repercussions, but they couldn’t be good. No, they could be terrible indeed.

Emylia tried to remind him to breathe, but his breaths were already too sharp, too shallow, his vision going hazy at the edges. The next thing he knew, the Godskeep faded from view and sent his mind drifting into nothingness.