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He turned his gaze to the window. “I found shelter in the great library of Saldu. I’d sleep between the stacks of books, hidden from the scribes and scholars.

” A small smile touched his lips, and fondness entered his voice.

“They tutored wealthy merchants’ sons there, and I listened from behind the columns.

I couldn’t read, but I learned about the world through those lectures.

History, mathematics, geography. But my favorite lectures were the ones about the great warriors of Saldu Kuum.

” He looked at me. “I dreamed of seeing my name beside theirs one day.”

“You will,” I said impulsively. Probably foolishly. But I couldn’t help it. The little boy he’d been deserved so much better than what he’d been given.

Dain’s smile turned wistful. “It’s a nice thought, Princess, but unlikely. Even if my name appeared in those books, I couldn’t read it.”

He never learned. And he was breaking my heart. “I could teach you,” I said, my chest aching. “If you wanted.”

He reached out and brushed a knuckle over my jaw. “Maybe.” A hint of mischief glinted in his eyes. “Nikolas says I’m too old.”

“No,” Nikolas countered, “I said you’re too stubborn . I’ve tried to teach you dozens of times.”

Dain grunted. “And you’re a terrible teacher. You get impatient when I don’t understand right away.”

“I do not!” Nikolas said. Then a sheepish look crossed his face. “All right, maybe sometimes I do.”

A smile tugged at my mouth, and my heart lightened a bit. Life had dealt them both a harsh hand, but they’d found each other.

Nikolas looked at me. “What about you, Princess?”

I startled. “Me?”

“You’ve heard our stories. What about you?” His eyes twinkled. “Is it true that the streets of Lum Laras sing in the sun?”

I laughed. “I’m afraid that’s untrue. The palace has golden spires that catch the sunlight, but the streets are just regular stone.”

“And your childhood?” Dain prompted.

I hesitated, considering how to answer. My upbringing had been privileged beyond measure compared to theirs. Complaining would seem ungrateful, insulting even.

“It was comfortable,” I said carefully. “I never lacked for anything.”

Nikolas tilted his head. “Except?”

My heart sped up. “Except what?” I asked, pulling my hand from his. But it was too late. He’d seen through me, his sharp pickpocket’s eyes missing nothing.

I dropped my gaze to the quilt. He and Dain had shared their pasts. The least I could do was offer the same.

“I never knew my mother, either,” I said.

“She died bringing me into the world. And my father…” I swallowed, old memories surfacing.

“He was a legendary knight. If he had the choice, I think he would have preferred war over peace.” I looked up.

“He loved war strategy and battle. Since he couldn’t have it, he spent most of his time traveling from one jousting tournament to another. I stayed behind in Lum Laras.”

Dain’s brow furrowed. “Alone?”

I shook my head. “I had nursemaids and tutors. The palace is always full of people. I wanted for nothing.”

“But they were paid to take care of you,” Nikolas said. “It’s not the same.”

“I had Helios,” I said. “Every chance I got, I visited the Grove. It was my mother’s garden. I tended it, and I practiced my magic. When I wanted someone to talk to, I captured the sun and asked it to speak. Eventually, it did.”

A hush fell over the room. The men stared at me for so long, I fought the urge to squirm. Just as I debated getting up, Nikolas touched my wrist. We looked down together, gazes falling on his fingertip covering the edge of a sigil peeking from my sleeve.

“Money isn’t love,” he said. “It can’t hug you or tell bedtime stories.” He traced the sigil’s edge, his touch as soft as his voice. “Perhaps you and Dain and I are more alike than you think.”

We looked up at the same time, something shifting in the air between us. The Dokimasi tugged, its pull stealing my breath. Although, if I was honest with myself, Nikolas had stolen it first.

“Three orphans,” Dain said softly, drawing my gaze to him. “Maybe that’s why we found each other. It was fate.”

His eyes were warm. So were Nikolas’s fingers on my wrist.

“Magic brought us together,” I said, standing. I didn’t look at them as I gathered their empty bowls and went to the chest. I couldn’t allow them to affect me. I wouldn’t make the mistake of sleeping with them again.

But as I stacked the dirty dishes, I had to wonder if Dain was right. And if that scared me more than the challenge of reclaiming my throne. My gaze strayed to the bed—the one bed.

Nikolas must have followed my glance. “I’ll take the floor,” he said, already tugging the blanket from the foot of the bed.

“You don’t have to,” I said. “The floor won’t be comfortable.”

He gave me a crooked grin. “I’ve slept in worse places.”

Dain shifted over on the mattress, making room. “It’s all right, Bel. The bed is warmer than the window.”

I hesitated, then toed off my boots and went to him. Dain lifted the blanket, and I slipped under it. I lay stiffly, my heart hammering. Even with space between us, his body heat beckoned.

Nikolas stretched on his back, his boots crossed at the ankle and his hands piled behind his head. He closed his eyes, looking every inch the careless rogue. But now I knew that wasn’t quite true. There was more to him than quick smiles and easy jests.

A comfortable hush fell over the room, broken only by the creak of old wood and the distant chirp of night insects.

The Dokimasi pulsed steadily in my chest, present but restful.

It was…content, as if it waited for morning.

Whatever doubts I harbored about the men, the magic didn’t appear to share them.

Despite the uncertainty still plaguing me, I closed my eyes and surrendered to sleep.

I woke to warmth and weight. Dain spooned me from behind, his face buried in my hair and one heavy arm draped over my waist. His deep, even breaths fluttered over my neck.

Nikolas stood at the window. His feet were bare, and he’d discarded his shirt sometime in the night. Moonlight highlighted the thick mounds of his shoulders and the smooth muscle of his back. As if sensing my attention, he turned, and our eyes met across the small room.

Something stirred in my chest. Not the Dokimasi, but something deeper.

It whispered under my skin, its words indistinct but impossible to ignore.

I eased from under Dain’s arm, holding my breath when he mumbled and burrowed deeper into the pillows.

When his breathing evened again, I slipped from the bed.

The floorboards were cool beneath my stockinged feet as I crossed to Nikolas. He watched me approach, his dark eyes serious in a way I’d rarely seen them. When I reached him, he extended his hand, and I took it without hesitation.

“My queen,” he murmured.

My breath caught. No one had ever called me that.

No tutors, no courtiers, not even Helios in jest. Nikolas Taniakes, a thief from the streets of Saldu, was the first to acknowledge my birthright.

Perhaps I should have wished for someone grander—a high-born lord with lands and titles.

But somehow, Nikolas felt exactly right.

Eyes still solemn, he bent his head. “I am your servant,” he said in his quiet voice.

I shivered, my heartbeat quickening because I knew he meant it.

He lifted my hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to my knuckles.

Light flashed over my hand.

We both gasped as golden fire raced up my arm, lighting my sigils. For a few breathless seconds, the tiny suns glowed with the magic of Ishulum. My magic. Pinpoints of light danced around us like dust motes on a sunny day. Heat grazed my skin as if I’d stepped outside after a long time in shadow.

Then, as quickly as it came, the light vanished. But the Dokimasi’s magic remained—and the tug was stronger now. It pulled me toward Nikolas.

We stared at each other, our hands still clasped and moonlight spilling over us. The look in his eyes mirrored my own shock and wonder. The Dokimasi had expanded beyond Dain and me. Now, it connected me to Nikolas, too.

He turned my hand and rubbed his thumb over the pulse fluttering in my wrist. His dark eyes gleamed, understanding shimmering in the chocolate depths.

Movement made me turn. Dain sat up in bed, the look in his eyes letting me know he’d seen everything. The magic bound all three of us.

Dain rose and crossed to us with quiet steps. I reached my free hand toward him, and he took it, his large palm swallowing mine.

The magic pulsed again, stronger this time, flowing around us in an unbroken circle. The Dokimasi beat in sync with my heart.

“Tomorrow,” Dain said, his deep rumble as steady as the magic, “we start this quest anew.”