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“I hate him,” seethed the princess as she reclined against Lady Esme in her private rooms. “I knew Father to be cruel, but I didn’t think him capable of selling off his own offspring!”

“I did,” replied Lady Esme coolly as she ran soothing fingers through the princess’s white hair. “The king’s only prerogative is to keep his crown secure and to please his court. I fear he sees you as a tool he’s free to wield however he wishes.”

Princess Azla was committing treason, yet Tanwen couldn’t blame her for it.

From where Tanwen stood, mixing a tonic, her arm slowed. It was impossible to ignore the women’s conversation.

As ordered by Madam Arini, Tanwen was exclusively seeing to the needs of the princess. And needs Her Royal Highness had aplenty.

Since waking from her perils with Indigo Eclipse, she had constantly been ringing Tanwen for tonics to calm her nerves, an elixir to help alleviate her ever-present headaches, or docüra to silence her swirling melancholy.

Tanwen didn’t fault her demands, of course. Nor did she question why the princess avoided talking about that day or how Tanwen was the one who found her. She could only imagine what the princess must have been going through since the public announcement of her nuptials with Orzel.

Tanwen only wished she had a moment between summons so she could pack. She was set to leave for Zomyad tomorrow, and she had yet to prepare a scrap of clothing.

You hardly have a scrap to worry about packing, reasoned Eli from the pouch at her hip. You won’t need long to gather what you need for the morning.

Tanwen pursed her lips. If that was meant to be reassuring, she thought to her friend, you failed.

Since the incident in the barracks, Eli had wanted to remain tucked by Tanwen’s side as much as possible. And she was all too happy to comply. Well, until he became a nuisance, as he was becoming now.

To travel light is an advantage, explained Eli. Look at myself. All I require is the fur on my back.

Tanwen nearly scoffed. That’s because I carry all your soft comforts. Or do you forget how you spent most of our travels to Galia asleep in my pack?

Eli quietly squeaked his indignation but otherwise remained silent.

“What am I going to do, Essie?” The princess’s distress pulled Tanwen’s attention back to where she was nestled against her lady-in-waiting.

Despite her current fervor, the princess still wasn’t eating much, her withering form an added blanket to her despair.

“What are we going to do,” corrected Lady Esme. “You are not in this alone, my love,” she reminded. “And as we discussed, we have options.”

“The only option that would change my fate is if Maryth claimed my father,” said the princess, aggressively plucking at the beadwork along her chiton. “Before she claims me.”

Tanwen stilled, spoon forgotten in her hand, upon hearing such sedition from the princess.

“ Hush ,” admonished Lady Esme, attention sliding to where Tanwen suddenly rebusied herself with her task, heartbeat in her throat. “Let us discuss this later. Getting worked up will not help matters.” She turned Princess Azla’s face up to meet hers. “I need you to stay healthy.” She pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “I need you .”

“You have me,” said the princess before she frowned. “At least for the next two months. The king has decided on a date, did you know? I will be wed to Orzel by the second full moons. Once the mine’s construction is proving stable. The announcement will be made this week.”

Tanwen furtively watched a shadow pass over Lady Esme’s features, her grip tightening on Princess Azla, who swam in her arms.

Unwillingly, Tanwen’s thoughts skipped to Zolya, having witnessed his similar despair and rage for his sister-cousin’s fate. How powerless he had admitted to feeling.

And then, as if her mind was a masochist, everything else poured in.

Their kiss, his touch, the feel of him hard and hungry beneath her, his mouth everywhere before there , perfect, pleasuring—

Please, enough, cringed Eli.

Tanwen blinked back to the room, skin burning.

Stop listening, she admonished.

I can’t help it, he defended. Just as it appears you couldn’t help yourself with—

Eli!

Instantly his internal musings were cut off as Tanwen swallowed her embarrassment. She glanced to the nearby ladies, thankful to find that neither seemed to notice her distress.

She released a breath.

Tanwen and Eli hadn’t officially broached the subject of the prince, despite Eli clearly understanding what had transpired. After all, Tanwen felt as if she were being haunted. Her mind was cruel in how often it decided to replay her and Zolya’s evening together, despite her better efforts to concentrate on what mattered. She had located her father and brother. She was set to visit Zomyad, see her mother, and come back with a plan for how she could free all of them. Tanwen didn’t need any other distractions.

Zolya certainly seemed to agree, for the prince had made himself scarce. Tanwen had not seen or heard of his whereabouts since that morning.

All for the better, of course.

“ Tanwen. ”

Tanwen jolted back to the room, finding the concerned gaze of the princess.

“Are you all right?” she asked. “I’ve been calling your name for a spell.”

“I apologize, ma’am.” Tanwen flushed. “I was absorbed with the mixing of your tonic.” She approached where the princess and Lady Esme lounged, then placed the drink on a side table. “When you wish for it, Your Royal Highness. It will help you sleep.”

“Thank you, Tanwen,” said the princess. “I’m not sure how I will manage while you are away. When do you leave again?”

“Tomorrow morning,” said Tanwen, her stomach fluttering with impatience at the thought.

She hoped to send one last note to her father and Thol before her departure. Their correspondence was forced to be economical, given their carrier’s limitations.

Eli could handle only so much weight on his back at a time. Still, Tanwen prayed her father might have become inspired to find a way to get them out. Thus far, Gabreel had remained steadfast on Tanwen taking her leave from Galia as a chance to run. For her to get Aisling and head north to the Low Gods’ territory, as they had always planned.

But that, of course, was out of the question.

“Must you leave?” protested Princess Azla. “Can you not wait until your next home visit?”

“I will be back soon enough,” Tanwen assured, more than flattered at the extent to which the princess had come to rely on her. Though saving her from being poisoned no doubt helped. “In the meantime, I can show Gwyn or Alys how to make some of your tonics while I’m gone,” she suggested, despite how she loathed the thought of sharing any of her meddyg secrets with Gwyn. Tanwen had been able to avoid her nemesis as of late, and no part of her wished to change that.

“Show Alys,” instructed the princess. “Despite her better efforts to hide it, I know she misses being the only one to fuss over me.”

“As you wish, ma’am,” complied Tanwen, relieved.

“But do ensure you only teach her the simple mixtures,” said the princess. “I may trust Alys with dressing me properly, but my confidence wavers on her abilities around the nuances of being a meddyg such as yourself.”

Tanwen couldn’t help her smile. “I’ll pre-prepare your favorite elixirs, ma’am. All Alys will need to do is add tea or water.”

“Bless you,” the princess breathed, pleased. “If only I held a skill half as useful as yours.”

“You are highly skilled with your wind, my love,” reassured Lady Esme.

“Yes, to play music or make art,” scoffed Princess Azla. “But what is useful about that?”

“If I may, ma’am,” interjected Tanwen. “That shows you have extreme control of your magic. Not every Volari can successfully pluck strings with their wind or channel it through holes in a flute to produce music in key.”

The princess arched a single white brow at Tanwen. “And?”

“ And precision is a very sought-after skill for anyone to master,” explained Tanwen. “As for usefulness, perhaps it’s about applying your talent to something that might serve you other than your art.”

The princess blinked, as if she were seeing through fog for the first time. “You have me intrigued,” she said, sitting up. “What might you suggest?”

“Well ...,” began Tanwen as she looked around the large room. “Let’s say you wish to nap but don’t feel like getting out of bed to close the curtains. Do you think you’d be able to move them closed with your wind from here?”

“But I have staff to do that,” argued the princess.

Tanwen couldn’t help giving her a dry glance. “For the sake of this experiment, let’s say that you don’t.”

“All right,” Princess Azla conceded as she turned toward one of the open drapes that framed the entrance to the veranda. She took a deep breath in before making a quick and fluid slice through the air with her arm.

A funnel of wind burst from her hand to run along the curtain rings, sending a panel to flow shut. The light in the room dimmed.

“By the High Gods!” exclaimed Princess Azla. “I did it!”

“Well done, my love,” said Lady Esme, clearly pleased by the princess’s happiness.

“What else can I do?” Princess Azla turned expectantly to Tanwen.

Tanwen couldn’t help but laugh. “Dare I say that is now for you to experiment with, ma’am. I’m sure your capabilities are unending. You merely need to flex your imagination.”

An invigorated spark shone in Princess Azla’s blue gaze, and for a flash Tanwen had a vision of standing before the prince, their features so similar. Same azure eyes, alabaster hair, and smooth brown skin along angular features. Their relation was inarguable.

So was the fact that Tanwen was beginning to care for each of them.

Truly an unwelcome realization.

“How enlightening this day has become,” said the princess, strangely echoing Tanwen’s thoughts, as she turned to Lady Esme. “Let us see what we can do with your heat.”

“I think we both already know what I can do with my heat,” said Lady Esme, her grin wicked as she held the princess’s stare.

Princess Azla blushed.

Tanwen cleared her throat. “Do you need anything further from me, Your Royal Highness?”

“I do not,” said the princess, reluctantly tearing her gaze from her lady-in-waiting to address Tanwen. “Your services today are, as usual, above and beyond. I hope you enjoy your visit home.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” She bowed.

After collecting her supplies, Tanwen was too glad to leave the lovebirds, but as she reached the front door, she was stopped. “Ms. Coster,” called Lady Esme. “May I have a quick word?”

“Of course, my lady.” Tanwen turned, a slip of unease entering her stomach as she noted the seriousness in Lady Esme’s features. “How may I help you?”

Lady Esme furtively checked their surroundings, her red hair catching the sunlight streaming through the columns and into the grand receiving room where they stood. Despite them clearly being alone, she still guided Tanwen away from the front door to an alcove filled with wild foliage.

“I wanted to discuss what transpired with the princess last week,” said Lady Esme, her delicate brows drawn together. “Or, more specifically, your help with what transpired with the princess. No, please, do not yet reply.” She quickly raised a hand, stopping Tanwen’s poised interjection. “Princess Azla shared what she could remember about your presence there that afternoon, but the prince filled both of us in on the rest of the details. He explained what you did, and I ... well, I want to thank you.”

“My lady,” began Tanwen, “you do not—”

“I do ,” she interrupted again. “I really do. Azla feels the same, of course. But she is in the denial stage of her grief. She’d prefer we not discuss that day or what she attempted, despite how it looms around us. I have left offerings to Udasha every day, however, thanking her for such fortune in having it be you who found Azla. I can only imagine the outcome if it had been someone else ... if it had been someone who hadn’t acted as you had ...” She stopped herself, a thickness in her voice as she momentarily looked away. “We both truly appreciate your presence in our lives. All the help you’ve given. And, well, I want you to know that to the princess, and to myself, you are more than her atenté. You are a ... friend,” she finished in a whisper.

Friend.

There was that word again.

Now spoken twice by those not meant to speak it.

Behavior that could never leave closed doors, lest one be labeled a Süra sympathizer.

And it was clear Lady Esme understood this, or she wouldn’t have ensured their current privacy for such a conversation or have said the title in such a hush.

Which only tainted her sentiment.

Let us be friends, but in secret.

And then between Tanwen and Zolya.

Let us be lovers, but no one must know.

Tanwen suddenly felt centuries tired.

Was this to be the curse of her life?

Forever hiding, blending in, keeping secrets. Living, but only when behind shuttered curtains and locked doors. She was her father in Zomyad, but her being Mütra could not so easily be removed like his band of horns.

A tightness encircled Tanwen’s throat, her desperation to leave this bloody island stronger than ever.

“I thank you for your words, my lady,” said Tanwen, forcing her tone to be even, professional. “It is, of course, my honor to serve you and the princess. Your gratitude is not necessary. If that is all, I do have much to prepare before my leave tomorrow.”

Lady Esme frowned, a hesitation in her gaze. “Just one more thing,” she eventually managed. “The princess’s earlier words regarding her father—”

“What words?” Tanwen interrupted, face neutral.

Lady Esme studied her a beat, weighing Tanwen’s act of ignorance. “Indeed,” she replied. “Once again, your discretion is appreciated. If ever you find yourself in need of such a favor in return ...”

Tanwen plucked up the offering. Despite her wavering trust, she would not ignore leverage for future use. “I will be sure to seek your counsel, my lady.”

“Please do.” Lady Esme placed a gentle hand on Tanwen’s arm, a sudden determined spark in her gaze. “The gods are fickle with how they move us around their celestial board, Ms. Coster, but I believe we knock against one another for a reason. Zenca, our goddess of destiny, has a plan. If the princess was meant to die that day, Maryth would have claimed her. Instead, there you were.”

Lady Esme’s grip on Tanwen tightened, a hint of her heat magic simmering in her touch. Tanwen’s nerves skipped down her spine. “Your presence here is not happenstance,” said Lady Esme. “And I recognize that.”

Tanwen couldn’t speak; she could hardly breathe.

Because Lady Esme was right.

Tanwen being at the palace was a carefully orchestrated, carried-out plan.

One she had believed was of her own doing, but she now was beginning to think it, in fact, could have entirely been inspired by Bosyg and dusted with Udasha’s luck: her being placed at Sumora instead of any other den in Fioré, then being chosen to work the palace party before being promoted to the role of atenté to the princess.

Tanwen had been given more access to the royal household and palace quarters than she had ever dreamed of acquiring, all aiding—she had thought—in her endeavor to find and free her family.

But perhaps such access was for another reason.

Unease coursed through Tanwen’s veins.

The gods are fickle with how they move us around their celestial board, Ms. Coster.

Lady Esme’s words swam in her mind, foreboding. Tanwen did not enjoy the idea of being a pawn in someone else’s divine game.

A time will come when I will need a favor of my own. Bosyg’s promise sprouted in her thoughts then, an unwanted reminder.

Tanwen swallowed her rising disquiet.

Up until now she had worried only about succeeding in her mission, a daunting task on its own, but as she left the princess’s chambers, she began to fear the validity of Lady Esme’s words.

Could divine scheming be afoot in Cādra?

If it was, Tanwen hoped only that the endgame still included her and her family’s survival.