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Tanwen hadn’t intended to linger so long outside Princess Azla’s sitting room door. Nor had she meant to overhear so much.

Yet she had.

“We have already discussed this,” sighed the princess to her companion, her voice muffled from beyond the door. “If we ran, my father would never give up hunting us. And we wouldn’t merely be hiding from him but from any High God allied to Orzel.”

Tanwen could hear the princess’s tiredness, her frustration in her looming fate.

“No, we need something more permanent,” Princess Azla continued. “Something that would ensure the ending of my marriage contract.”

“Besides the king annulling the agreement,” came Lady Esme’s voice, “which we both know will not happen, the only other solution would be to eliminate one of the signatories.”

There was a slip of tense silence, the meaning of Lady Esme’s observation filling the space.

Since Orzel was immortal, that left only one possible target: the king.

From where Tanwen remained on the other side of the door, her heartbeat kicked into a sprint.

“Yes,” the princess ultimately agreed.

“But it’s impossible,” reasoned Lady Esme, her worry clear in her tone as she walked back her suggestion.

“Nothing is impossible,” replied the princess.

“This nearly is.”

“He’s a king, not a god, Essie. He will die eventually.”

“Yes, eventually, but he’s ruled for over two centuries and has, no doubt, evaded numerous attempts on his life.”

“I don’t understand why you’re fighting me on this,” said Princess Azla tersely. “Especially since we’ve already debated this back and forth and always end up at the same conclusion.”

“Because I do not want this sin on your hands,” said Lady Esme.

The princess’s responding laugh was cold. “ Is it a sin to kill a tyrant?”

Tanwen’s blood continued to pump a hungry, anxious rhythm in her veins. She gripped the tray in her hands as her breaths came fast and uneven.

Could she trust her own ears?

Were the princess and her lover really discussing murdering the king?

Yes, hummed a tempting voice, which slithered up from the rock hidden in the pouch at her hip. And isn’t it glorious?

Tanwen’s skin chilled as a wicked daydream pressed into her mind, but whether it was her own or that of a vengeful god, she could not tell.

Visions flooded her: The lifeless body of King Réol. His eyes wide, unseeing, as his mouth was frozen in a silent, painful scream. His magnificent white wings limp and useless, splayed across a marble floor. His power gone. His threat removed as his soul was now in the grips of Maryth in her Eternal River.

Tanwen snapped back to the princess’s chambers, her lungs fighting for air.

As the dark fantasies dissolved, only one thought prevailed—a thought that overshadowed all others: with the king dead, Aberthol’s monster would be slain.

Tanwen’s veins filled with a mix of agony and hot vengeance, as they had last night when she was forced to remain crouched in the shadows within the cottage as her brother was taken to be tortured. It had left her in a trembling fury, reliving her past, when Tanwen could do nothing to help her family but hide.

Tanwen couldn’t bear it.

Quickly had her resolve hardened then, her mind becoming clear.

King Réol must die.

And not because of a promise to a god or to save a princess from a tragic marriage.

But because of Thol.

For Thol.

If it was the last thing Tanwen did on this godforsaken island, she would exact revenge for the injustices inflicted upon her brother.

“We might understand what needs to be done”—Lady Esme’s voice pulled Tanwen’s attention back to where she hovered outside their sitting room—“but we still don’t know how to do it. He is guarded always, his food and drink tasted and tested, not to mention his own godly strengths.”

“A solution will present itself,” reasoned the princess.

Had Eli been by her side, he surely would have cautioned Tanwen against her impending actions, persuading her not to succumb to the malevolence she felt toward the king. However, at present, her friend was conspicuously absent. In fact, she hadn’t laid eyes on him all morning. But that concern would have to wait for later.

Without further thought, Tanwen knocked.

There was a beat of a startled hush before, “Enter.”

Balancing the items on her tray, Tanwen pushed into the sitting room. She gave a quick bow to the princess and Lady Esme, who sat close on a plush bench. Their gowns were made of silk, their wings drawn tight at their backs. They were positioned in such a way that would inspire a painter’s brush, save for the closed drapes behind them, which blocked the view from the large windows.

“Tanwen,” addressed the princess.

“Ma’am,” replied Tanwen.

Neither of them said anything further as they held each other’s stares.

A silent assessment.

What is it that you might have heard?

Plenty to be dangerous.

Though Tanwen was not there to be a threat.

She had made herself known to play a hand.

One she hadn’t known she had until now.

Your discretion is appreciated, Lady Esme had once told her.

Well, Tanwen was prepared to continue her discretion so long as she could call in Lady Esme’s promised favor.

With her pulse thrumming fast in her veins, Tanwen threw further caution to the wind as she fingered out the black pebble from the pouch at her hip. The surface was colder than she remembered, almost frostbite inducing. She placed the black stone onto the table between them. It sat like a dark void on the white surface.

Tanwen held her breath.

“What is this?” Princess Azla asked, single brow raised.

“A captured tear from Maryth,” Tanwen answered, attempting to keep her tone even, confident.

Princess Azla’s gaze widened with her surprise as she looked back at the stone on the table. Meanwhile, Lady Esme’s features furrowed with her concern.

“A captured tear?” questioned Lady Esme. “From Maryth?”

Tanwen nodded, trying her best to hide her rising panic for what she had done, was doing. But there was no going back now. Her faith lay in their mutual desperation.

“Poison,” Tanwen clarified.

The princess snatched her hand back from where she had been reaching out to pick up the rock while Lady Esme grew stiff, stance ready to protect, fight.

“You can touch it,” Tanwen assured. “Only when dropped into liquid does it become the deadliest of its kind. More so than Indigo Eclipse,” she added pointedly, holding the princess’s stare. “It is scentless, tasteless, and colorless, making it untraceable once dissolved.”

The tension within the sitting room compounded as the ladies appeared to absorb her words.

“You have forgotten yourself, Ms. Coster,” said Lady Esme, her fury clear. “It is a crime punishable by execution to bring such a thing near the princess.”

“I know,” replied Tanwen.

She was no longer in her body but floating overhead, an observer to whatever fate handed her next.

“Then why have you brought me this?” asked the princess, her brows knit in a mix of horror, hurt, and a dangerous spark of intrigue.

Tanwen did not answer for a long moment, allowing the question to stretch and warp, slowly becoming answered.

Because you need it.

“Because it was given to me,” Tanwen eventually said, “and I now believe it was meant to be given to you. A tear from the goddess of death to claim someone godly. A solution,” she added meaningfully.

In the resounding silence, the truth of her words unfolded.

Yes, I heard what you are plotting. Yes, I support it.

This is for the king.

“You should not be forced to marry anyone but who you wish, Princess,” said Tanwen.

You should not be forced to marry Orzel.

Tanwen’s loyalty sat on display between the three women, innocuous but very real.

The princess and Lady Esme shared a furtive glance.

“You do understand that what you have suggested is treasonous,” said Lady Esme. “If found out, you’d be executed.”

“I understand that what I have done is extend another act of service to help a need of the princess,” Tanwen clarified, her heartbeats pounding against her ribs. “As for whether I’m found out, well, my lady, that is up to your discretion.”

Lady Esme held her stare, an understanding passing between them, the memory of their past conversation hovering in the air.

Your discretion is appreciated, she had said. If ever you find yourself in need of such a favor in return ...

Tanwen was now calling in that debt.

“While I would like to believe my staff are this loyal to myself,” began the princess, “I am not so delusional. What do you wish to gain from this offering?”

Tanwen regarded the princess—her poise and grace retained while discussing the murder of her father. “It is not only you, ma’am, who the king suppresses,” said Tanwen. “There are many others who could be freed by such an ... outcome,” she finished carefully.

A flash of curiosity shone in Princess Azla’s blue gaze.

“And if I may continue to be so bold,” Tanwen added, because if she was doing this, she might as well get it right. “The night of your prewedding celebrations could pose a perfect time to address your ... solution.”

The princess almost laughed from her clear shock at Tanwen’s inappropriateness. “And why is that?” she asked placatingly.

“There will be many distractions that evening,” reasoned Tanwen. “And many potential guests to carry the blame, if blame is required.”

It will also help with my and my family’s escape if attentions are turned elsewhere.

Plus, if the king was killed before the party, who knew the heightened levels of security that would be in place in the palace, making it even more difficult for Tanwen to move around unnoticed. It wouldn’t make their escape impossible but just that much harder.

As tension filled the room, Tanwen steadied herself and grabbed the tonic she had prepared for the princess.

She set it beside Maryth’s tear.

Your choice, the gesture said.

The princess recoiled from the drink, clearly now distrusting of anything Tanwen might prepare.

Her reaction hurt, even though Tanwen understood.

Whatever the princess decided to do after this moment, her relationship with Tanwen would never be the same. For Tanwen had revealed just how dangerous she could be.

“I leave you with this decision, Princess,” said Tanwen. “For you to maneuver as you wish.” She gave a departing bow, then exited the sitting room without waiting for a formal dismissal.

Tanwen walked slowly despite wanting to run, her lungs unable to draw any relief even after leaving the women’s company.

But before she closed the doors to the sitting room, she saw Princess Azla ignore her tonic and reach instead for the stone.