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“Then allow me to offer to pay the weight of each slain soldier in gold as compensation. That is fair by any measure.”

“And what of the servants of the guest palace? What will you pay for terrorising them?” She raised her brows.

Flora really was making misstep after misstep. Her vivarium was a gross insult to the sacred concept of hospitality. After all, a host was judged based on the welcome they gave their guests. That she was too blinded by her own arrogance to see it spoke poorly for her ability to remain on her throne.

“Nothing. They gave the first insult. Unless it was you who ordered them make indecent demands in return for basic necessities? I was incredibly lenient, given the magnitude of their insults against me. In Aureum, such disrespect would be met with a whipping, at least. But perhaps making vulgar demands of royalty is merely your custom in Viridis.”

“Oh, then perhaps you would like to follow the Aurean custom for captured royalty? I believe it is to be paraded through the streets of the capital in chains.”

“Which your general Stentor already did. And that is the custom for captured war leaders, yes. But I neither declared nor initiated war.”

“Your actions at the Queen’s Road were as good as a declaration. That I have not marched on Aureum is due to my magnanimity.”

And her wariness of starting a war during a cycle of chaos. If she’d really wanted a war, she would have had him beheaded the moment he’d arrived. It could still happen, but she wanted the Dragon’s Flank instead. If she got it, she would cut him off from Aureum’s only profitable port and its most accessible trade route. Flora was, as ever, a bundle of contradictions. She wanted revenge for her failed war, but needed to humiliate him and Aureum before she could be satisfied. Her weakness was her sadism. Rather than deal with the threat he posed in the most expedient of ways, she needed to toy with him.

Had Queen Flora been brought to Aureum for the same crimes, he would not have let her lead him by the nose in his own court. He would have forced a public audience only once he’d beaten her down in private. But she was so needy for his humiliation that she’d not considered he would turn it against her. Flora expected him to be fearful and humbled by his circumstances, as she had been. That she could not conceive of a worldview different than her own was an astounding oversight. It made it all the clearer that the one who truly ruled Viridis was not this petulant creature, but the cunning high priestess. Without her mistress keeping a firm hand on her leash, Flora was a dog chasing her own tail.

Just as he’d long suspected.

“My actions at the border were a result of divine madness. Surely your general relayed this to you.”

“Princess Epicasta, Your Majesty,” the guard at the door announced.

The queen’s sycophants looked grim as the princess swept into the room. She didn’t spare him a glance as she approached her mother wearing a gown in the deep red of mourning along with a silver and green tiara atop her dark, veiled hair.

“I heard you were entertaining a guest, Your Majesty,” Epicasta said, her gaze flicking over him.

“Hardly. This is King Theron, a shameless blasphemer who dares dictate what his punishment should be for killing Viridian soldiers in my queendom.”

“I would be delighted to teach him proper respect if you would allow it, Your Majesty.”

Flora's eyes lit at that.

“Be my guest.”

Epicasta’s dispassionate grey gaze swept him from head to toe. This was the infamous glass princess. One who had murdered her last three husbands for daring to bruise her delicate skin. A crime against the royal family, the queen had pronounced. That those same husbands had been highly influential and opposed to Flora on matters of state had not escaped anyone’s notice. That Epicasta had also bankrupted her husbands before their executions only fueled her infamy.

With a twist of her wrist, Epicasta wrenched the air from his lungs.

“Kneeling before the queen of Viridis is custom,” she said.

He did his best to resist, to fight for even a hint of a breath, but his suffocation brought him to his knees. As she’d intended. Thus brought low, he was freed from her magic. He gulped in air to Flora’s obvious delight. Rage burned in his breast. How dare she assault him?

“Your Majesty, I believe I can handle things from here. Allow me to escort this barbarian back to the guest palace and explain his circumstances to him. He has stolen so much of your precious time already. I will ensure he is made properly grateful that you have provided him an audience in these trying times.”

Was this the true ruler of Viridis? This cunning bitch who so easily managed her hot-headed mother? But then why put up with Flora’s antics at all?

“Is it already time for Council to meet?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Epicasta replied.

“Very well. See this blasphemer back to the guest palace. I’ll deal with him another day.”

The moment Theron attempted to stand, Epicasta choked him with her magic. Flora swept past with a laugh and exited the royal receiving chambers, taking her party of lickspittles with her. It was only once the grand doors closed that Epicasta released the hold she had on his lungs.

Theron gasped, sweat drenching his back. This bitch was going to pay for her actions.

“You may stand,” Epicasta said, never once flinching as he stood to his full height and loomed over her.

“Do that again and I won’t hold back, Princess,” Theron growled.

“Learn some humility, and I won’t have to. Come along, we have much to discuss.” Epicasta headed towards the door where the guards were already opening it with a respectful bow.

By the time he caught up with her, the storm was beginning in earnest. Servants rushed to get under the covered walkways and out of the heavy rain, or duck back into the maze of buildings. She led him in silence back to the guest palace, never once bothering to check he was still following after her, the crack and rumble of thunder and lightning taking the place of any pleasantries between them. She was about to turn towards his room when he stopped her. His little fairy was inside, and he didn’t want this venomous creature anywhere near her.

“The gardens will do,” he said.

In this deluge, it would be as private as a room, and at least there he could see any potential eves-droppers.

The princess raised a brow at his hand on her. Only when he let her go did she detour. When at last they came to their destination, a small pavilion overlooking the fishponds and greenery of the guest palace, she sat down and motioned for him to follow. When he did, she produced the key to his handcuffs and freed him.

“As I said, we have much to discuss,” she began.

“If you plan to persuade me to sign that toe rag your mother calls a treaty, then think again.”

She tilted her head.

“I could force you.”

“Batea would depose me—with my blessing.”

Epicasta produced his seal ring from her pocket, twisting it this way and that.

“Who would know it was against your will until it was too late?”

“Anyone with common sense, Princess.”

She placed his seal ring on the table and pushed it towards him.

“You’re welcome, by the way. The plan was to present the treaty to you as an open and shut matter, with your seal used to ratify it.”

“Oh? So why didn’t you allow it?” he asked, securing his seal ring back on his finger. Perhaps he should destroy it, so that it couldn’t be stolen again.

“Because it wouldn’t have satisfied Her Majesty. She wants you to sign the document yourself, however unwillingly, and she wants the signing to be public.”

Ah. In that case, he would most definitely use such an occasion to destroy his seal ring.

“That’s not going to happen.”

“I suggest you get comfortable with the idea that it will, in some way or another. I also suggest you find some way to give Her Majesty what she desires before she decides to get…creative.”

Theron regarded this Viridian bitch with some amusement. As far as courtiers went, she seemed to be most effective. Every emotion had been drained out of her, her grey eyes as unmoving as stone. Time to see if he could provoke her.

“I can’t understand why you haven’t already deposed your mother.”

She didn’t even flinch at his words.

“That would be pointless.”

“Because you agree with her aims? Am I to look forward to dealing with another rabid dog barking at my borders once you ascend to the throne?”

“I would not expect to live quite so long, were I you, Your Majesty.”

“We’ll see.” Theron leaned back in his seat.

“You’re rather obtuse, aren’t you?” Epicasta sighed.

The rain picked up, coming down in torrents now. Lightning flashed over the city, the crash of thunder resounding moments later.

“I pride myself on standing in the way of Viridian entitlement to my lands.”

Epicasta shook her head.

“Who am I, Your Majesty?”

Theron raised a brow.

“And what game is this, Princess?”

She squeezed the air from his lungs. He lunged across the table dividing them, his hand on her throat.

“Who am I, Your Majesty?” she hissed.

“A dead woman,” he retorted as he fought to fill his lungs.

“Who. Am. I?”

He squeezed harder. She gripped his hands with a grimace.

“The glass princess, about to shatter.”

She returned his breath to him. He let up, but not completely.

“Precisely,” she replied. “And how does Her Majesty deal with especially troublesome adversaries?”

He let her go as if scalded.

No.

Not this mangy bitch.

He would never allow some Viridian whore to claim even a single slice of Aureum. He would sooner take an actual whore as his queen than allow any Viridian to bind themselves to him, or Aureum’s magics—to corrupt them, to own them. He would sooner slit his own throat.

“Never.”

“My sentiments exactly,” she replied. “Now, if you’re quite done with your barbarism, please sit.”

“I don’t see what there is to discuss. The moment you drag me to the altar is the moment I renounce my kingship. A wedding between us will end in one way—with a funeral. Yours, to be precise.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Are you done beating your chest? I have no desire to tie myself to Aureum. Or to you.” She curled her lip at him.

“Then what do you want?”

“Sign the treaty with Her Majesty. Do it publicly. Give her the triumph she so desperately craves. When I come into my throne, I’ll return the Dragon’s Flank to Aureum.”

“As if I would believe a word out of your mouth.”

“You had better start trying. Because if she can’t entrap you with this, she will entrap you with me. Then it will be my duty to have your heir, dispatch you, and eventually cede all of Aureum to Viridis while placing your child on the throne of your client kingdom. Do not make me.”

“Why are you telling me this? The only incentive I have now is to murder you outright.”

“I’m telling you this so you understand what the rest of your short life will look like if you don’t sign that treaty.”

“I’m not some spineless Viridian noble, Princess.”

“There are foul magics in Trisia capable of sapping a man’s will.”

“I’ll not allow myself to be overcome by foul magics, nor will I be used by you.”

Her brows pinched with pity.

“Do you know who else thought that way? Each of my three late husbands. Please, for both our sakes, do whatever it takes not to become my fourth.”

Epicasta rose from her seat. Theron didn’t bother showing her the courtesy of standing or bowing. Courtesy was reserved for those with honour. Epicasta, with her foul magic, had none. How dare she threaten to use magic to obliterate his will, to rape him, to murder him and then to enslave his kingdom. He would never allow himself to be taken alive. It was time to inform his spies in Viridis to take action. If Flora had access to such magics, he needed to wrest them from her control, and then kill anyone who had the ability to replicate them—lest she and her scourge of a daughter get their claws into him and his kingdom.

“I will give you some time to contemplate your future, Your Majesty. But do it quickly. I suspect Her Majesty will have something planned for when the plague abates.”

She didn’t fear him. She pitied him. Was so bloody certain of her eventual victory. That needed to change. She thought to light a fire under him. He would return the favour. His magic exploded from him. Theron turned around then, shooting out of his seat. He crowded her out from under the shelter of the covered walkway and into the mud, into the driving rain.

“You threaten to use magic to destroy my will.” He flooded her with his own. Her eyes widened in alarm. “You threaten to violate me,” he continued, letting his magic trickle through her muscles, her bones, seeking out her history of hurts. “To enslave my people as surely as you plan to enslave any child you get from me.” He found it then, her litany of healed bones, her scars, her brutal past. And yet he felt no pity. “Know this, Princess. You will not survive long enough to do so. I have found the past written in your flesh. I will shatter you long before you choke me. It is not I who needs to accept the predations of Viridis, but you who needs to use your guile to manage your mother.”

She eyed him up and down, scowling.

“You’re a fool, Theron.”

Her eyes caught on something above him.

“We’re done here,” she announced, pushing past him.

“No, we’re not,” he snarled, grabbing her wrist.

“We are being watched.”

He flicked his gaze upward.

Aurora.

His heart seized in his chest. Her face was a mess of gore and blood. How? He’d left her sleeping peacefully.

Princess forgotten, Theron stormed into the building, all but running through the halls of the guest palace. He tore open the door to his room, but she wasn’t there. Had she gone to her own? He raced back down the hall towards hers, ripping open the door. She sat there, curled up by the terrace, a hand to her ragged face.

Aurora was soaked through from the rain, her white nightgown stained red as blood poured down from her scalp, her cheeks, her nose, her lips, her neck. Theron rushed over, wrapping her in his magic. He pulled her hand away to better assess the damage—only to choke on his rage. Her eye had been nearly gouged out. Instead of using his magic to convince her body to mend itself, he poured it into her, filling her up, allowing his magic to draw on his energy instead. There would be no pain from this healing.

“Who did this to you?” he snarled.

Had it been one of the animals in the vivarium? Had it been one of Flora’s guards, trying to hurt him through her? Whoever it had been would pay with their lives.

Her tears fell in earnest then. She crumpled in on herself. He swept her up in his arms and held her close.

“Orithyia,” she whispered.

He tightened his embrace as every ugly thought raced through his mind. Maybe Batea had been right. Maybe the curse of a goddess was worth ridding the world of Orithyia’s taint. His little fairy had already nearly died of fever and been attacked by a vengeful spirit. She didn’t deserve this. Aurora wept in his arms.

“They came and you weren’t there. Why weren’t you there?” Aurora sobbed. “You were gone and they took me. Where were you?”

Lightning flashed, transporting him in an instant.

“Where were you?!” his mother screamed. “Where were you when your brother needed you?!”

He was no longer a man grown, a king, but a scared young boy with a weight crushing his heart. His mother’s shriek rang in his ears in time with the thunder.

Theron shoved Aurora from his arms. She fell to the floor, her elbow taking the brunt of her weight. Her sharp intake of breath was drowned out by his racing heartbeat. Pain, as sharp as any blade, bloomed in his chest. Memories and nightmares alike assailed him, his gorge rising. He beat back his panic, but only just. He forced his memories away, pushed through the nightmares clinging to his waking mind. Fear and anger held him in their grip, and so he reached for anger, for safety.

“I am not the villain here! I am not responsible for your life!” he shouted.

Shock and fear flashed across her face as she clutched her injured arm. Then betrayal. His gut sank. Shame scalded him—he couldn’t believe he’d lost control so badly as to physically hurt her. Theron reached out a hand to heal her.

“Don’t,” she growled, slapping his hand away.

She gritted her teeth, her tears turned to rage in a heartbeat. Aurora stood, wincing, her wet, bloody gown clinging to her lean form. She was a wicked spirit, come to haunt him for his failures.

“I trusted you! I thought we were allies! You promised to protect me but you left me to get maimed by Orithyia and now merely asking where you were makes me the villain?! Get out!”

Why did her accusations hurt so much? Why did it make him so angry? She was nothing to him. Nothing . How dare she wound him in this way? How dare she worm her way past his defences? How dare she remind him of his worst moments, when he’d been a moment away from regretting his actions towards her!

“Ungrateful swine!” he shouted.

“Worthless bastard!” She spat at him.

Another flash of lightning.

“Worthless,” his father hissed, his face transforming from devastation to rage in an instant. “You’re no son of mine!”

His father’s voice thundered through him in time with the tempest outside. She’d reduced him to that same cowering child, the horror of his ineptitude dawning on him. One life had depended on him then, and in his carelessness, he’d let it slip through his fingers.

He fought back another tide of rising nausea, fought to remain in the present, his heart pounding in his ears. He gripped her jaw in his hand as she glared daggers at him.

“You’d be dead if not for me!”

“Death would be a blessing!” she retorted, pulling free, tears streaming down her face, her eyes flashing with hopeless fury as another bolt of lightning lit the room.

“Save me,” Tisander whispered, blood pooling at the corners of his mouth.

He tried to push that nightmare away, but Tisander morphed into Aurora, blood leaking from her ruined eye. He’d failed her, and she’d paid in blood. Just as Tisander had paid with his life.

No! This isn’t the same! I healed her!

Yet his heart paid no heed to his head as the thunder boomed as loud as his heart. Dread and rage ripped his last bit of sense to shreds between their teeth. How dare she talk of throwing away her life?! How dare she, when there were so many he’d lost? He rounded on her then, crowding her against the wall, pinning her. His magic swirled around them in his senseless wrath. How could he hate her so much in that moment, and yet be grateful that his magic assured him of her heartbeat?

“Don’t you say that! Don’t you ever fucking say that!”

She pushed him away with all her might.

“Get out! I never want to see your thrice-damned face again!”

“Likewise!” he retorted, storming off and slamming the door shut on his way out.

Her sobbing chased him all the way back to his quarters, where he sank to his knees, his heart and mind in tatters.