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MAGIC FLARED, YANKING Caro downward. He dropped to his knees just as an arrow passed through where his head had been, clattering harmlessly onto the floor behind him. Caro looked up, his magic still firing strong, just in time to see another arrow flying toward the dais. Except, this one was heading straight for Carmillian. Caro scrambled to dive forward, but he had fallen awkwardly and the extra second to get his feet untangled meant he was much too slow. The arrow was going to hit Carmillian and destroy Namin’s last hope for survival. Gasps and screams erupted from the crowd; Caro tried to shout but found he didn’t have the breath to make any noise.

However, Carmillian simply tilted her head slightly. The arrow zipped harmlessly past her ear, thudding into the throne behind her. She turned to look at the arrow, her expression completely unconcerned. When she returned her attention to the audience she let out an exasperated sigh.

“Fitting that the arrow you shot at me instead mars a symbol of your failed reign,” she called out, looking in the direction from where the two arrows had been shot. “I didn’t even need my magic to avoid that,” she added. “And the explanation as to why is as simple as your thought process is in trying to kill me. You are a false king sitting on a stolen throne. Your magic is waning; weaker than your father’s, and your heir’s was weaker still. So, it follows the Triumvirè sworn to follow you will be weak as well. You trained them to drown innocents in the moat, or to push them off a tower.” She grinned and her eyes were alight with viscous benevolence. “The true Triumvirè, the ones who followed the rightful queen into exile, have no such weakness.”

She flicked her wrist as if shooing away a bug. Suddenly, two people appeared on the dais. Caro hadn’t known they were nearby, hadn’t seen them arrive, and had zero idea they had followed Carmillian’s group into the throne room, but there they abruptly stood. Wearing head to toe black, with every inch of skin covered and a deep, tight-fitting hood concealing their faces, menacing was a tame way to describe them. They walked past where Caro was still sprawled, their steps completely silent as if their feet didn’t touch the floor.

Caro scrambled to stand as the two people appeared to blur, and suddenly they were off the dais and halfway across the room. The crowd scampered away, leaving three people exposed. Two were in the red armor of what Caro had thought was part of the Triumvirè uniform, but their faces weren’t concealed. In comparison, they looked like petulant soldiers, rather than the scary boogeymen of Namin. Both were holding crossbows, but only one was able to reload and fire before the dark figures reached them. The third arrow thudded into the side of the dais below Carmillian’s feet.

A brief glint of silver showed, and then a spray of red as blood flew. Both red-clad bodies dropped to the ground, throats neatly cut in a stroke that, had Caro blinked, he would have missed. Then the black-clad Triumvirè turned to look at the third figure along with everyone else in the room.

The third person was in his dressing robe, same as everyone else in the room, but he had donned a cloak with a hood that concealed his face. Still, it wasn’t difficult to guess who had managed to sneak in.

“You are the liar!” King Cyphus snarled, throwing his hood back defiantly to reveal his scowling face and gray-streaked blond hair. “Your ancestor abandoned this land, leaving Namin to suffer. My family has ensured this land prospered!”

“The fields are barren and the people starving,” Carmillian replied, her tone scathing and her scowl fierce. “While you luxuriate in excess and murder your detractors. Namin will be a failed state by spring. And all of that is your fault, your failure as leader.”

“I will see you hanged! You, and that traitor standing next to you!”

As Cyphus snarled, he was also taking small, tentative steps backward. His eyes flickered around the room, as if he was searching for a friendly face or any sort of support from those gathered. Or maybe he was searching for an escape route, Caro realized as Cyphus shuffled closer to the large doors at the other side of the room. Never mind that there were guards stationed there loyal to either Toval or to freeing Namin.

“Toval will pay for this invasion!” he continued, spit bubbling at the corners of his mouth. “I’ll raze their capital and when Etoval is in ruins, Toval will bow to me too!” He suddenly spun to face the doors and started sprinting in that direction. “You’ll regret this!”

The two masked Triumvirè turned to look at Carmillian, who held out a hand to stay them. With her other hand she reached into her sleeve and pulled out a small dagger. She drew her arm back, aimed, and threw.

The knife flew through the air, flashing silver as it passed through the beams of early afternoon sunlight starting to shine through the high windows in the wall to Caro’s right. Heads of the onlookers turned as they followed its path. King Cyphus only got a few more steps away, and then the knife slid into his back with a meaty thud that echoed with finality. He dropped in place, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. The knife hilt glittered high and to the left of his spine, a direct hit to the heart.

“A fitting death,” Carmillian murmured, although in the absolute silence of the room, everyone heard her. “He died as he lived, fleeing from his problems while whining and blaming others for his mistakes.” She looked away from Cyphus’s body to glance over the room again. “Right. I think we’ve all had far too exciting a morning. Go back to your rooms. I won’t reconvene court until tomorrow at the earliest, but I will warn you now. For those of you used to taking more than your share and flouting the laws of this kingdom, your grace period to end your misdeeds is short. After my coronation, anyone caught committing any of the crimes that have beggared this nation will suffer the full consequences of the laws, which include significant fines, prison time, loss of your title, or even execution. I suggest you take some time over the next few days ensuring all your personal and business practices are compliant.” She threw another glance across the room, after which Carmillian nodded, then turned sharply on her heel and headed for the secret door.

Caro was much slower to turn and follow. Wrenching his eyes away from that glittering knife and that still body was hard, far harder than Caro had ever imagined it would be. Caro had hated his father, had never identified anything redeeming about the man, and yet for some reason an ache in his chest grew the longer he looked at what was left of the man who had raised him—as poorly as that raising had been. Somewhere, hidden deeply away in the recesses of Caro’s hopes and wishes, the forlorn desire that one day his father might praise him, one day Caro might be acknowledged, had somehow persisted. Now, his father was dead and with his death Caro’s last dream of having a loving, welcoming family had died too.

He reached the annex and walked through the crowd to the door, which they had been waiting for him to open. He pushed the button and pulled the lever, and the door popped open. Braxton was standing on the other side. He took one look at Caro and unfolded his crossed arms, then held out his hands. Caro fell into his waiting embrace. Armor pressed against armor again, uncomfortable and in the way, and yet Braxton’s warmth still penetrated. His strength held Caro up and kept the trembling bits of Caro’s soul contained.

“Prince Caro, Prince Braxton, I appreciate all your help today. I will have Captain Thris guide me to the servants’ hall to address them and show me to the offices of state. You both should take some time today to rest and recuperate. I will see you for breakfast tomorrow.” She nodded formally to them both and then followed Thris down the passageway.

“I’ll let Captain Zain and Prince Fen know too,” Captain Grall added, before he also followed the group. In a few moments, Caro and Braxton were alone.

“Is there somewhere private we can go?” Braxton murmured into Caro’s hair where his cheek was pressed against the top of Caro’s head.

The words took a moment to penetrate before Caro nodded. “My room should be empty.”

He didn’t want to pull away from Braxton, but standing and hugging in the hallway wasn’t an option either. Caro only stepped back enough to grip Braxton’s hand, leading him down the secret passages yet again.

Caro’s bedroom was down a few floors, back in the direction where Braxton’s search party had been. The secret door didn’t have a lock; the room wasn’t nice enough to warrant one. Caro slid his fingertips into a groove and the door slid sideways into a pocket in the wall. The room itself was an inner room, so no windows, but there was very little in the way of furniture to impede Caro as he made the familiar trek across the room to the actual door where the switch to activate the mage lights was located.

With the lights on, the sparseness of the space was revealed. A small bed along one wall with a wooden box used for a side table. A set of drawers on the other wall, scratched but perfectly serviceable. And a closet that led to the shared bathing space between his room and the usually empty one next door. And that was it. No decorations, nothing to personalize it. Everything was covered in a layer of dust.

Caro dragged the blanket off the bed and took it into the hallway where he could shake it out. When he returned to the room, Caro finally found the courage to look at Braxton to gauge his reaction.

Braxton’s lips were set into a frown. “I know you said your father hated you, but you’re still a prince of Namin,” he said, turning slowly in a circle as if he thought he might have missed something.

“I’m lucky to have this much. But I spent most of my time away from the castle for one reason or another. This is still luxury compared to camping on the ground.” Caro shrugged and focused on spreading the blanket back across the bed. He turned around when he heard a thud, to see Braxton had removed his vambraces and dropped them onto the otherwise empty top of the chest of drawers. He was working on the buckles for the armor on his chest, twisting awkwardly to reach. Caro let the blanket go and hurried over to help. Between the two of them, they soon had all the pieces of Braxton’s armor off and scattered across the flat surface on top of the drawers in no time.

“Let’s get yours too,” Braxton said when he was down to the padded undershirt and pants worn underneath heavy armor. He didn’t wait for Caro to agree, already reaching for the buckles and straps.

The second the last piece of Caro’s armor was removed, Braxton wrapped his arms around Caro and hugged him close. Braxton let out a slow breath, his body relaxing beneath the fingers Caro pressed to his shoulders.

“Finally,” Braxton said, laying his cheek against the top of Caro’s head again.

Warmth, and the feel of Braxton’s heart pounding. Skin touching skin. Caro let out his own sigh as he relaxed into the comfort of being able to actually feel Braxton again. He buried his face into Braxton’s shoulder, wrapped his arms around Braxton’s neck, and shamelessly clung.

“My father hated me, and I hated him,” Caro forced out, his throat and chest tight. “I was glad to know we were traveling here to kill him, as terrible as that sounds. But…” He couldn’t finish, his breath hitching in his throat.

Braxton turned them and practically carried Caro the two steps across the room. He sat on the edge of the bed and Caro somehow ended up in his lap, still clinging.

“My Uncle Randolph used to bring me sugar candies. He’d go out to the market and come back with his pockets full of them. When I was a kid I thought he was the coolest man in the world. He threw a coup a few years later. Killed my aunt—his sister—and came really close to killing Ayer. He planned to kill my parents as well as Fen and me, and he fled when he failed. When I found him again, you know what he said to me? ‘I used to dote on you to bring you to my side. You could be my heir,’ he told me as if cheap candies meant to entice a child was enough to offset the terrible things he did. And yet, after I killed him, I cried.” Braxton’s breath hitched and he gulped before he continued. “Try as I might, as much as I know how terrible he was, sometimes I still remember those brief moments when I thought he might be good and wish there could have been a different outcome for us all.”

Caro’s own tears wet Braxton’s shirt where his cheek was pressed. “My brother used me as his personal practice dummy, but aside from that, ignored my existence. I felt nothing when he died. An almost empty sort of relief filled me, but I was also distracted by my father getting away. Seeing my father die…” he trailed off again. “I guess I did feel some sort of relief. I’ll never have to look over my shoulder again, or spend every moment waiting to be murdered.”

Rationalizing wasn’t helping assuage the twisted sort of sadness mixed with anger roiling inside. Caro shifted, trying to press more of himself into Braxton’s warmth. Braxton tightened his arms obligingly.

“You can miss the concept of someone, the idealization of what they were supposed to be, without missing the person himself,” Braxton said. “If I can miss the doting uncle despite now knowing what was really under that facade, you can miss your father too.”

“He didn’t even try for a facade with me,” Caro got out, his voice thick with tears he was struggling not to shed. “He was my father in blood only. And— And I—”

The dam burst. Caro clung to Braxton as the tears flowed. Braxton clung back, holding him close and rocking gently, and allowing Caro to mourn for what could have been, safe in the arms of what Caro knew his future would hold.