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Tanwen’s heartbeat skipped as she reread the note. The parchment was thick between her fingers, the penmanship elegant and refined.

It was a message from the princess, delivered a moment ago by a palace courier.

The words were brief but did their job of robbing her of breath.

Thank you for my gift. I look forward to using it during the festivities tomorrow evening.

Tanwen’s grip tightened on the note, nervous anticipation flooding her veins.

Tomorrow evening.

The same night she planned to escape.

Princess Azla was going to poison the king during her prewedding celebration.

She was listening to Tanwen.

Despite the severity of what this meant, how this would disrupt the entirety of Cādra, create a further chasm between her and Zolya, Tanwen’s breaths came out even. Sure.

It was happening.

Her favor to Bosyg would be complete.

But perhaps most importantly, her brother’s monster would be eradicated.

No longer would Aberthol suffer.

Calmly, Tanwen folded the note promising the king’s death and smiled.