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“I’d rather swim in chummed waters than repeat tonight.” Ahnna collapsed on her bed, having dismissed Hazel after again thanking her for the clothing she’d made. “That was awful.”

“Which part?” Taryn asked, flopping down on Ahnna’s right, then kicking off her boots. “The part where you had to make nice with the dozens of courtiers who told you how delighted they were to make your acquaintance after spending the whole of dinner mocking you? Or the part where the man you are here to marry implied that you’d been had by the Maridrinians and were therefore worth nothing?”

Her cousin’s voice turned bitter on the last, and concern caused Ahnna to turn her head sideways to regard her. The last thing that Taryn would want was platitudes, so instead she said, “Do you have any useful advice?”

Taryn lifted her shoulder. “The king seems to like you, and that’s what is important. Edward is hale and healthy, so barring assassination, he’ll be the one determining trade agreements with Aren for a long time. If my advice were not that we should cut our losses and leave this place, it would be to stay on Eddie’s good side. He seemed to enjoy your speech about the hundred cuts, so it was probably worth making William hate you even more.”

“I don’t want William to hate me.”

“Don’t you hate him?” There was incredulity in Taryn’s voice. “After what he said about Maridrina?”

“He said it to get a rise.”

“I’d have stabbed him for saying it.”

“Stabbed who?” Bronwyn appeared next to the bed, making Ahnna jump and reach for the blade sheathed at her belt before she realized who it was. The Veliant princess only smirked. “Feeling a bit high-strung, are we?”

“Ahnna’s betrothed hates her,” Taryn said. “He’s also a little pissant who’s clearly been indulged his whole life. James might have a stick up his ass, but at least he doesn’t snivel.”

“Ah.” Bronwyn flopped on the bed to Ahnna’s left. “So dinner went well.”

Ahnna snorted. “Where have you been?”

“Spying.”

Another glance revealed that Bronwyn was wearing a slightly dowdy dress cut in Harendellian style, her hair drawn back in a tight bun, a scarf pinned in place. “What did you learn? Anything about the new market?”

“Not a whisper. But I saw plenty.” Bronwyn grinned at Ahnna. “This palace has dozens of little curtained alcoves. I thought they must be places for secret conversations, so I hid in one behind the curtain to see if I could learn anything interesting. However, it turns out they are just locations for drunk nobility to have sex with those who are not their spouses, so the only thing I learned was who is having an affair with who, along with a few interesting techniques I’d never seen before.”

It was a deflection. Bronwyn told jokes to change subjects, which meant that she hadn’t been hunting for answers to Ahnna’s mystery at all. And some sixth sense told her exactly what Bronwyn’s real mission had been. “I haven’t seen her, in case you wondered. Could be that they aren’t keeping her at court.”

“Who?” Taryn lifted up on one elbow, and Ahnna didn’t miss the intensity in her cousin’s voice. Nor the scent of wine on her breath. Shit.

“My aunt,” said Bronwyn.

“Lestara,” Ahnna clarified, though Taryn knew about the harem wife. The Cardiffian princess that Keris had exiled from Maridrina. He’d called in a favor with the Harendellians to take her, and Aren had arranged an armed escort to bring her through the bridge to deliver her to Edward’s keeping. She’d been here for long weeks now, but Ahnna had heard little about how the ex–harem wife who’d betrayed Maridrina fared. “You can’t kill her.”

Bronwyn didn’t answer.

“I’m serious.” Ahnna sat up, abruptly concerned that she’d misjudged Bronwyn’s reasons for coming with her to Verwyrd. “If Lestara dies right after we arrive, we’ll be blamed. She’s the daughter of King Ronan of Cardiff, and there is enough bad blood between Harendell and Cardiff without us adding to the mix.”

“I’m not going to kill her,” Bronwyn grumbled. “I just want to make sure that she’s suffering as much as Keris thought she would.”

“And if she’s not?”

Bronwyn didn’t answer.

“You can’t hurt her.” Ahnna rolled onto her hands so that she was looming over the other woman. “Promise.”

Azure eyes glared up at her, the color nearly identical to Lara’s, though Bronwyn’s eyelashes were dark. “How,” Bronwyn said softly, “is it fair that you get to be an absolute bitch to my sister for accidentally causing the death of your people, but I don’t get to be an absolute bitch to the woman who purposefully caused the death of my people?”

Taryn started to rise, but Ahnna caught hold of the back of her cousin’s shirt and yanked her back down. “It’s not fair,” she replied. “Which is why I give you permission to be as nasty to her face as you so wish. But under no circumstances do you cause her physical harm. Like it or not, we aren’t alehouse barmaids whose fists only damage the faces we strike. Our actions impact entire kingdoms, and unless you want to potentially cause even more innocent people harm, you’ll curb your baser instincts.”

Bronwyn’s glower deepened. “Fuck you and your logic, Ahnna.”

“That’s a yes ?”

“I won’t hurt her. Physically.”

“I hate how forgiving you are,” Taryn abruptly snapped. Jerking out of Ahnna’s grip, she disappeared into her own room with a slam of the door.

Bronwyn sighed, eyes on the closed door. “Sometimes, she’s fine. She sings to herself and laughs at my jokes, and being with her is like being in the presence of a shining sun. And other times, she burns so hot with rage I fear she’ll destroy herself and everyone around her.”

“It’s hard to see her like this,” Ahnna admitted. “She always saw the best in everyone. That’s why Jor made her Lara’s close guard—because she was the only one who didn’t cling to their prejudices against Maridrinians.” Ahnna inhaled a steadying breath. “Which makes it all the worse.”

Bronwyn was quiet for a long moment, then she said, “When I first arrived in Ithicana and saw how Taryn treated Lara, I knew she was a threat. Knew that if she had the chance to kill my sister, she’d take it, and I resolved to kill her first. Had all my plans ready to make it look like an accident, but Lara guessed what I was up to and stopped me. She told me about how when they made their move to take back Gamire, they came across Maridrinian soldiers trying to force Taryn to help them use the shipbreakers. She refused. After all those long months of suffering the worst my father’s soldiers could level upon her, Taryn was willing to suffer more to protect her people. Was willing to die before allowing herself to be used to take Ithicanian lives.”

“Sounds about right.” Her cousin had never wanted to be a soldier, but Taryn was one of the bravest people Ahnna had ever met.

“People always talk a big game about being willing to endure anything and everything for their cause. To die for it. But do you know how rare that capacity really is?”

Bronwyn sat up, pushing Ahnna out of the way as she did and then resting her face in her hands. “Those of us in the compound were pitted against one another, a competition to be the one who’d go to Ithicana to destroy the great oppressor of our people. None of us realized that our father intended to sacrifice the rejects in the name of secrecy, so we were all motivated for different reasons. Honor. Pride. Justice. Loyalty. But me…I was motivated by fear. Not fear of losing, but of winning. Because there was no worse fate that I could possibly imagine than having to wed a man.”

Ahnna remained silent, listening to her friend’s confession, because it struck her that she might well be the first to ever hear it.

“We had to sit through these lessons with Mistress Mezat, who taught us the art of the bedroom.” Though her head was still in her hands, Bronwyn shook it. “Let me tell you, she held nothing back. All of us were maids, but we learned everything there was to know about pleasing a man in the bedroom by the time she was through with us. What she told us kept me up at night. Haunted my dreams, sleeping and awake, and I went from wanting to win to being desperate to lose so that I could avoid enduring that. I had no thought for my people. No thought for politics. No thought for all the good I might do if I took down the great oppressor. All I cared about was protecting myself from the worst horror I could imagine.”

It was tempting to offer Bronwyn absolution, but Ahnna couldn’t help but wonder if her words would be driven by the fact that, in refusing to win, Bronwyn had refused to attack Ithicana. Which wasn’t the absolution the other woman was looking for.

“At the time, I was too lost in fear to hate my own weakness, but since…” Bronwyn trailed off. “Hearing what Taryn did, how she stood strong…I admire her fortitude. Taryn has a strength that so few people possess, and to allow her to be consumed by anger after she stood strong for so long would be the greatest of tragedies. I would like to prevent that.”

“You cannot hang your own self-worth on whether Taryn chooses to burn herself up or not,” Ahnna said.

“No, I can’t.” Bronwyn rose to her feet. “However, I can hang it on how hard I try for someone I have come to call my friend.”

Ahnna silently watched Bronwyn depart into Taryn’s adjoining room, then stared at the ceiling for a long time, her thoughts a twisting mess that seemed to make less and less sense with each passing second.

You need to sleep, she told herself. You can’t think when you’re this exhausted.

Which was true. Except someone needed to be alert. She’d sent Jor to bed on her way in because his cough was growing worse by the moment. Taryn had been drinking and was slipping into one of her moods. And Bronwyn was obviously in Harendell on a mission of her own.

You’re in a palace in the sky full of Harendellian soldiers, her exhaustion murmured. You don’t need to be on guard here.

Except she’d said much the same the night the Maridrinians had attacked Southwatch. An impenetrable island protected by soldiers and storms, what was one night of letting down the guard to celebrate? Ahnna trailed her fingertip down the scar that marked her face, the permanent reminder of what it meant to lower her guard, then rose to her feet and left the room.

Well past the midnight hour, the halls were quiet and softly lit, the only signs of life the occasional servant answering a bell rung in one of the rooms and the soldiers standing at regular intervals in the hallway, all of them offering her bows or curtsies but no interference as she prowled the hallways. Out of respect, Ahnna did not enter any of the rooms. Though in truth, what she sought was fresh air, the palace oppressive, given she was used to spending her days in open spaces.

Discovering a door that led out into the courtyard, she found herself face-to-face with a soldier bearing medals and ribbons declaring him a captain. “Your Highness,” he said, bowing low, “if you wish to venture down to the city, I’ll need time to organize an appropriate guard.”

“I only wanted air,” she said. “May I walk on the exterior wall?”

“I’ll arrange—”

“Alone,” she interrupted. “I’m quite capable of taking care of myself, which I’m sure you’ve already heard.”

He looked ready to argue, but rather than giving him the opportunity, Ahnna smiled, then started up the stairs leading to the top of the wall that encircled the palace. Where she stopped, her hands pressed against the stone as a slight sense of vertigo took over, a gasp escaping her lips.

For she was surrounded by stars.

This was what she imagined it was like to fly at night. Below, all that was visible were bits of gold from lanterns and torches in the city, and because of the sheer height at which she stood, the starry sky stretched over her like a light-specked dome. It was also cold, the wind biting at her skin.

“You shouldn’t be up here alone.”

Ahnna whirled, knife in her hand—

Only to find James standing behind her. His face wasn’t visible in the darkness, but the height and breadth told her that it was him as much as his voice. The adrenaline surging through her veins moved from fear to something she refused to put a name to.

“I thought I was only forbidden from being alone in the company of a man, not being alone entirely.”

James ignored her jab. “It’s not safe.”

“How fortunate that you’re here now to protect me,” she said, then silently cursed how breathy her voice had turned. Prayed he wouldn’t be able to tell over the noise of the wind.

Instead of retorting, James moved to rest his hands against the balustrade, looking out into the darkness. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “For how my brother spoke to you tonight. It was uncalled for.”

His whole body sang with tension that made her think that more had happened than what she’d witnessed. “You might have used more cultured words, but the sentiment was the same. Leave. However, you are both destined for disappointment, because your father, the king of Harendell, seems very much to want me to stay.”

James made a soft noise, meaning unclear, and then he said, “You aren’t a good match for my brother, Ahnna.”

That was obvious, but his words still stung. “Why is that? Not pretty enough? Not ladylike enough? Not Harendellian enough?”

He huffed out a breath that was pure annoyance. “Because William needs a woman who will make him feel good about himself. A woman who will elevate him even when it comes at a sacrifice to herself. A woman like…like Alexandra.”

He wants to be mothered? were the words that rose in her throat, but Ahnna bit down on them and instead asked, “Why is it that you believe I won’t?”

“Can you stand here and, in all honesty, claim that you’ll hide your skills or knowledge to make him look good?” James asked, twisting toward her. “That you’ll let him take credit for your ideas? That you’ll let him lead when you goddamned know you’d do a better job of it?”

“This is serious indeed if you’ve lowered yourself to using profanity in the presence of a lady.”

“Fucking hell, Ahnna, take this seriously.”

She flinched, not at his words but at the desperation behind them, because something more had happened tonight. Something she hadn’t witnessed, and dread pooled in her gut. “I am taking it seriously.”

“Then answer the question. Are you willing to do those things? Are you willing to change everything about yourself in order to fit the mold of Harendell’s future queen?”

She stared at the shadow that was James’s face, the conversation she’d had with Bronwyn rearing in her heart. How far would she go for the sake of Ithicana? How great a sacrifice would she make for the sake of her people? Could she become a woman like Alexandra? Could she mother her own husband? Ahnna’s mouth tried to form the word yes, but her lips felt frozen, the air stuck in her lungs.

“Go back to Ithicana,” James said softly. “You can do more good for your homeland there than you ever will here.”

Panic rose in Ahnna’s chest, her breath rapid and the world spinning. “I can’t go back.”

“Why not?” He stepped closer to her.

Because I can’t fail my people again. I can’t.

“My father and your brother can come to another agreement,” James said. “Things that can be offered in lieu of your hand in marriage.”

Words meant to be a consolation and yet were damnation, because she was here to improve Ithicana’s situation, not make it worse by making her people pay for her freedom.

James lifted an arm, his hand catching the side of her face, thumb beneath her jaw, forcing her to look up at his shadowed eyes. “What are you afraid of, Ahnna? What will happen if you go back?”

“Nothing.” Her voice was breathy, but she couldn’t seem to steady it.

“Then why are you shaking?” James’s voice grew hard. “Are you afraid of your brother? Has he threatened you? Is that why you’re doing this?”

“No.” Her tongue felt thick, numb, because she didn’t want Aren painted as a villain, but neither could she admit the truth. That her homeland was in ruins and her people hungry. That they were destitute and depended on her to save them. That she’d failed before and would rather die than do so again. “The treaty…”

“Fuck the treaty.” He pulled her closer. “If you’ve been threatened into doing this, I’ll—”

He abruptly jerked backward, hauling her with him, his sharp intake of breath making her instincts flare. Twisting in his arms, she saw the silver flash of a blade. Right where she’d been standing.

“Guards!” she screamed, pulling the knife from her belt and slashing at the black-clad figure. But he danced out of range before lunging again, knife longer than hers and wicked sharp.

Ahnna deflected the attack with her knife, then stepped sideways, swinging her fist at the assassin’s head, but he ducked before rising sharply, fist catching her in the gut. The air was driven from her lungs, but Ahnna slashed at him, knife carving a deep slice across his shoulder.

Behind her came the clash of metal against metal, then a grunt of pain. Ahnna silently cursed as she realized the assassin wasn’t alone. That James was fighting another assassin. But alarm bells were sounding, guards running up the stairs, which meant help was coming.

Only that also meant that the assassin needed to kill her now. Or that he needed to run. Even in the darkness, she felt his resolve, and a second later, the assassin threw himself at her with several savage cuts that she barely managed to block.

She kicked him in the knee, risking a glance over her shoulder to find James grappling on the ground with the other assassin, but she couldn’t help him. Not with her opponent launching another series of attacks that made her arm shudder each time she blocked.

“You should have stayed in Ithicana, bitch,” the assassin hissed. “You might have lived.”

“I’ve never been good at doing what I’m told,” she replied even as she threw herself into a roll, coming up between his legs.

He squealed in pain as her shoulder caught him in the balls, knife cutting her back in a downward slice as Ahnna lifted. Her body strained beneath the man’s weight, but she was nothing if not strong.

“No!” she heard James shout. “Don’t kill him!”

But she’d already heaved the assassin over the wall, his screams splitting the night air. Once. Twice. Three times. And then there was silence.

Catching her balance against the parapet, she turned to find James with his arms outstretched toward her, a still figure behind him on the ground.

The guards exploded onto the scene, torchlight illuminating the blood splattered against the white stone. It was a mess of voices, made worse by the incessant alarm bells. Then James’s hands were gripping her sides, his face inches from hers, breath hot and rapid. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” she answered. “He spoke to me, but his accent was unfamiliar—”

“She’s injured!” the captain she’d spoken to earlier blurted out. “The princess. Her back!”

James cursed and rotated her in his grip as easily as if Ahnna were a doll, a stream of profanity rolling from his lips. “Get a bloody doctor!” he shouted at the captain. “Go!”

Then James lifted her into his arms.

For a heartbeat, Ahnna was too stunned to speak, because no one had picked her up, much less carried her, in her adult life, and now James had done it twice. “Put me down!”

He ignored her.

“James, there is nothing wrong with my legs! It’s just a scratch!”

“The back of your shirt is soaked in blood,” he growled, holding her steady as he descended the stairs. “And if you don’t quit squirming, I’m going to drop you.”

Given the strength of his grip, it would take more than squirming to cause him to drop her, but Ahnna still ceased trying to extricate herself. “This is ridiculous.”

“The doctor will meet you in her rooms, sir,” someone said from below. “And we’ve begun a search for intruders. The entire palace has been locked down.”

“Small mercy,” she muttered. “Fewer people to witness you carrying me about like an overgrown child.”

“No one with eyes is going to mistake you for a child,” he retorted, and Ahnna became profoundly aware of the hard chest she was pressed against, his arms beneath her knees and behind her lower back, her cheek resting against his shoulder. If her weight was a burden, James didn’t show it as he entered the palace, walking with long strides down the hallways, which, despite the lockdown, were full of gaping nobility, every last one of them speculating in dramatic fashion. By the time they reached her rooms, Ahnna was confident that the gossip had escalated to the point that she was on the verge of death, having been attacked by a dozen assassins.

“Where is she?” Taryn’s shout echoed out of Ahnna’s room. “You will let me go to my cousin, or I will gut you like a pig!”

James entered her room, and Ahnna watched her cousin’s face pale at the sight of her, Jor bodily shoving a guard out of the way as he attempted to reach her. Bronwyn had somehow managed to get around all the guards, her blue eyes wide as she asked, “How bad is it?”

“It’s nothing,” Ahnna growled, then kicked her legs to try to get James to let go of them, but he only tightened his grip until he was able to carefully lower her onto the bed. Taryn was on her in an instant, cutting away Ahnna’s shirt.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” her cousin said, making a face. “It’s just a little cut. A few stitches and you’ll be fine. You certainly didn’t need to be carried.”

“I know.” Ahnna didn’t bother trying to keep the sourness from her voice. “Blame James.”

No sooner had the words passed her lips than a wave of dizziness washed over her. Wincing, she tried to focus on the conversation the doctor was having with James and Bronwyn, but the sound of her pulse was drowning them out. Bronwyn’s face was blanched, James’s jaw tight, and as the doctor extracted several glass vials from a case, she asked, “What’s wrong?”

Bronwyn knelt next to the bed. “James says Amaridian assassins poison their blades, most commonly with wraithroot. The doctor can test the wound for traces and then treat you, but you must stay calm.”

She’d heard the name before. An expensive poison and not one used by the Harendellians. “Antidote?”

“Of a fashion.” Bronwyn smoothed Ahnna’s hair back, peeling sweat-soaked strands off her forehead. “If it is indeed wraithroot, it is absolutely critical that you keep your heart beating as slowly as possible, that’s why James carried you. If it starts to race, the poison will drive your heart to beat faster and faster until—”

“It stops,” Ahnna whispered, remembering her poison lore.

Bronwyn hummed an affirmative. “It’s most effective if the victim is exerting themselves, but also if they panic. So just breathe.”

The grim-faced doctor pressed a piece of gauze to the wound, then poured a substance from one of the vials onto the blood-soaked cotton. It fizzed, and he grimaced. “Wraithroot, there is no doubt. We will sedate you to keep you calm, Your Highness. If you would drink this—”

“No!” Ahnna jerked away from the proffered vial. “No sedation!”

“It will not harm you,” the doctor said in a voice that was probably intended to be soothing but was instead entirely condescending. “It only puts you to sleep until the poison passes from your system.”

Put her asleep and keep her asleep, no matter what went on around her. Everyone she cared about could be put to sword by assassins, and there would be nothing Ahnna could do to help them. “No! I don’t need it. I’m fine.”

“Your Highness, you are emotional,” the doctor said. “Allow more stalwart minds to aid you through this trial.”

“Go fuck yourself!” Ahnna screamed at him.

The doctor scowled. “I do not know how things are done in Ithicana, but in Harendell—”

James plucked the vial from the doctor’s hand. “Please wait outside.”

“I’m fine,” she said as the doctor slammed the door behind him. “I don’t need it. I’ll calm down.”

Yet she could hear the roar of her pulse, her heart racing as though she’d spent hours running up and down flights of stairs carrying a heavy load.

Bronwyn caught hold of her wrist, fingers pressing tight. “It’s got her. We don’t have much time.”

“Ahnna, listen to me,” James said. “I’ve seen men die from wraithroot. Strong men, their hearts tearing themselves apart in their chests because they refused to stand down.”

“I’m stronger.” The words came out between gasped breaths, her chest spasming. “I’m fine. Don’t drug me.”

Jor coughed, then said, “We’re going to have to pin her. Force it down her throat.”

“No!” Her shoulders hit the window, though she didn’t remember getting off the bed. “Please don’t. Please.” Her face was wet, the pain in her chest incredible. “I just need a minute to breathe.”

“Ahnna, you’re acting a fool!” Jor shouted. “Take the bloody tonic!”

“Ahnna, please,” Taryn sobbed. “I can’t lose you!”

“Ahnna, you’ve got minutes to live if we don’t do this,” Bronwyn pleaded. “It will be okay!”

“I can’t.” Her eyes skipped among the three, their faces started to blur. “I can’t risk it.”

James shoved the vial into Taryn’s hands, then took a step toward Ahnna. “Why can’t you? What do you think will happen?”

“I don’t know.” Her knees were shaking, the roar deafening. “I need to be alert.”

His head tilted, brow furrowing. “No one here will hurt you. I swear it.”

“You don’t…understand.” Her chest was in agony. “I need to…keep watch. Need to…protect…them.”

Her legs buckled, and James lunged, catching her. His fingers tangled in her hair, holding her head upright. Amber eyes burned into hers as he said, “I’ll stay. I’ll keep guard.”

Her eyes burned, tears leaking down her cheeks.

“I promise, Ahnna,” he said. “I will be your eyes until you wake. Please trust me to do this.”

He was practically a stranger. An outsider. No part of her should trust him, but Ahnna whispered, “I trust you…”

The tonic Taryn pressed to her lips was sickly sweet, making her choke as she swallowed and then burning as it raced down her throat. Her body was in agony, her heart starting to skip, but then the world split into two. Then three.

She slumped, falling against James’s chest, his arms around her as everything darkened. The last thing she heard was his voice as he whispered, “I’ll keep watch for you.”