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“That was incredible!” Bronwyn swung the door of the shared room in the dormitory shut, then caught hold of Taryn’s hands. “You had everyone in the audience transfixed.”

“It was nothing.” Taryn’s cheeks turned pink. “They were only being kind.”

“It was a standing ovation, my love.” Bronwyn twirled her in a circle. “The Harendellians don’t do that for anyone, but they did it for you.”

And it had been glorious. Taryn on the stage in the theater with the conservatory’s orchestra in the pit beneath, the audience filled with minor aristocracy and students and townsfolk, all eager to hear Ithicana’s voice for the first time. Taryn sang the same lament she’d used to calm cows and her cousin alike, and it had been as though the audience was captivated by magic. Bronwyn had found herself moved to tears, which was saying something, because the Magpie had beat her capacity to cry nearly clear out ofher.

Humming, she moved one hand to Taryn’s waist and began to slowly guide her around the small room in a waltz. Each rotation brought them closer together until the tips of their breasts brushed, and Bronwyn could take the anticipation no longer.

Stopping, she curved her hand into Taryn’s dark hair and then bent to kiss her. A gentle brush of the lips, and then she whispered, “I love you, you know. Love your face, love your voice, love your heart. ”

Taryn smiled. “And I did not know what it meant to live until I met you.”

“Are you happy?” There had been long days when Bronwyn questioned whether it was possible for Taryn to feel the emotion. Whether there was a place, a circumstance, a love that could drive away the pall that her father’s soldiers draped over her during her imprisonment.

“Yes.” Taryn’s gray eyes flooded, but her tears were tears of joy. “I dreamed of this place, Bron. Wanted it so very badly, and it has been everything I imagined. So full of peace.” Her lips brushed Bronwyn’s. “But it is you who makes me happy.”

“Let me make you happier still,” she breathed, pushing Taryn back toward the bed they shared. “Take off your dress.”

Taryn’s smile darkened with sultry promise, and she unfastened the laces at her throat and allowed the thin wool garment to slip down her lean body, revealing that she wore nothing beneath.

Bronwyn allowed her eyes to drift over her lover’s body, lingering on the large oval scars that dominated Taryn’s side, courtesy of a vicious shark bite. She murmured, “You own my heart, Taryn. To look at you is the purest form of happiness I’ll ever know.”

“I’d like to test that theory.”

Taryn’s clever fingers made short work of Bronwyn’s clothes, leaving them in a heap next to the bed, though habit had her slide a knife beneath the pillow before she slid between Taryn’s thighs, kissing her way down her lover’s torso, no part of her ever wanting their time here together to end.

Thump thump thump!

Bronwyn twitched at the heavy impact of a fist against the door, and meeting Taryn’s gaze, she drew the dagger from beneath the pillows. “Who is it?”

“Open up in the name of the crown!” a male voice bellowed.

“What the fuck is going on?” Taryn demanded, then reached down to retrieve her discarded dress.

Bronwyn had no notion, but her skin broke out in goosebumps, every instinct screaming danger. “Just let me get decent!” she called back, finding her own clothes.

“Open the door now, or we enter by force!”

Her heart was throbbing, and a light sweat formed on her forehead as her eyes flicked to the open window. Faint scuffs of feet reached her ears, and Bronwyn knew that the window would be no escape. Or, at least, not without bloodshed.

Forgoing footwear, she slipped her knife up her sleeve with the pommel hidden by her hand, then mouthed at Taryn, Stay back.

Her lover instead drew her sword from its sheath.

“You can’t hurt anyone,” Bronwyn hissed at her. “Put that away.”

Taryn shook her head, naked fear visible on her face, and Bronwyn knew this was dragging her back to the moment Maridrina had attacked Ithicana. To the moment her father’s soldiers had exploded into the barracks on Midwatch and killed most of Taryn’s comrades.

This was going to go badly.

Grinding her teeth, Bronwyn lifted the latch and—

—barely managed to leap out of the way as a soldier’s heavy boot sent the door flying inward.

Soldiers poured into the room with weapons in hand. Her first instinct was to attack, but seeing James was with them, Bronwyn instead raced across the room to stand between the men and Taryn, her blade like fire where it pressed against her wrist. “James, what the fuck is going on?”

He ignored her, eyes scanning the room. “She’s not here. Search the campus. Move quickly.”

Bronwyn grabbed Taryn’s sword arm, holding it steady as she demanded, “Who isn’t here?”

James finally looked at her. “Arrest these two.”

She let go of Taryn’s arm, preparing to draw her blade. “For what? Of what crime have we been accused?”

“Conspiring against the crown. Espionage.” His tone was flat, but his amber eyes burned with anger. “And as accomplices to murder.”

Dread pooled in Bronwyn’s stomach, and it took all of the Magpie’s training to keep her face and voice even as she asked, “The murder of whom?”

James huffed out a breath, but behind the anger, there was no mistaking the weight of grief that radiated from him. Names spooled across her thoughts, but even before he answered, Bronwyn knew.

“King Edward.” His voice sounded like it was dragged across gravel. “He was stabbed to death in his sleep by Ahnna Kertell.”

Taryn drew in a sharp breath, and in her periphery, Bronwyn saw her lover sway on her feet as shock took hold.

“Tell me where Ahnna is and this will go easier for you,” James said. “You are known accomplices, and the king will have justice, one way or another.”

Breathe, Bronwyn instructed herself even as she took in the numbers of soldiers, calculating the odds of escape. Which were not good. “James, until the moment you came through that door, we were entirely unaware of the king’s death. I assure you—”

“Ahnna didn’t do it!” Taryn burst out. “It was someone else! She’s being framed!”

James’s expression hardened, eyes growing dark and unyielding. His voice was acidic as he said, “After she stabbed my father to death, she turned on the queen. Stabbed her multiple times and cut up her face. That Alexandra yet lives is only because my men and I came upon her in the middle of the act with knife in hand.”

Ahnna, what have you done? Bronwyn forced the thought from her head and focused on extracting as much information from James as she could. “Ahnna would not turn to violence without cause. What happened? What drove her to this?”

James seethed with barely contained violence, his amber eyes burning like suns. She tensed, certain that he’d rather attack than answer, but instead he said, “Revenge for my father marrying William to Lestara as part of a trade agreement with Cardiff.”

Oh God. Bronwyn felt all the blood drain from her face as the pieces fell into place. Ahnna had hung her entire heart upon the idea that her union with Harendell would save Ithicana. That it would bring her homeland out of the ashes to make it strong again. To have that dream torn away from her…

“Where is Ahnna, Bronwyn?” The threat in James’s voice brought goosebumps to her skin. “It is not a matter of if but when I will find her, and your cooperation will impact your own fate.”

Blistering rage exploded through her veins that he’d dare to think she’d turn on a friend to save her own skin, but Bronwyn kept her face impassive. The same could not be said for Taryn, who ever and always wore her heart on her sleeve.

“Fuck you, James!” Taryn snarled. “Ahnna didn’t do this. I know she didn’t!”

His fingers flexed on the hilt of his sword. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“We’re saying that we aren’t involved.” Bronwyn lifted a calming hand—the one where she wasn’t palming a knife. “Taryn and I have been at the conservatory since the day you watched us board the riverboat with the dead. Every day, witnesses have seen us here and we have no knowledge of what happened in Verwyrd. We have not seen Ahnna since the day we left, and I’ve no doubt that Harendell’s spymasters have read all our correspondence. I will withhold judgment on what occurred in Verwyrd until I have all the facts, but suffice it to say, we are not complicit in the king’s murder or the attack on Queen Alexandra. You have no grounds to arrest either of us.”

“The king feels otherwise.” James moved closer, the fury radiating from him so fierce that Bronwyn swore she felt the heat of it. “Where is Ahnna?”

“I don’t know.” The words came out from beneath her teeth, and Bronwyn allowed the blade in her sleeve to slide lower into her palm. Because she knew how this would go. They’d be arrested and brought to Verwyrd, then the Harendellians would put them to question, innocence be damned. If it had been anyone else murdered, she might hope they’d be reasonable, but it was Edward who Ahnna had killed. Alexandra who she’d attacked. With witnesses. The Harendellians would be out for blood, consequences be damned. If there was to be any chance at survival, they needed to escape.

Now.

“Arrest them,” James ordered his men, then glanced over his shoulders. “Put them both in irons.”

And that was when Bronwyn moved.

Her blade dropped into her hand, and she slashed at James, the tip slicing through the front of his coat. He recoiled, but Bronwyn skirted past him and moved on the soldier holding the irons.

Her fist connected with his temple, and he staggered backward. The irons dropped from his hand, and Bronwyn caught them. Swinging them hard, she wrapped them around the outstretched arm of another man and yanked.

He cursed as he fell toward her, Bronwyn’s elbow catching him in the forehead. He dropped like a stone even as she whirled, foot striking out to catch the third soldier. Her heel smashed into his nose, and he fell through the doorway into the others.

She lunged and slammed the door shut. The latch fell into place but her instinct screamed warning, and Bronwyn ducked.

The first soldier’s sword slammed into the wood right above her head, splinters flying.

He tried to pull it free, but Bronwyn slammed into him and pinned his hand to the doorframe with her knife.

Ignoring his shriek, she ripped his sword loose and lifted it, finally ready to engage with James.

Only to find him behind Taryn, his sword blade pressed against her throat.

“Put the weapon down, Bronwyn,” he said softly. “And get on your knees.”

Her arm trembled, an equal mix of terror and fury raging through her body. “Let her go.”

James pressed the blade harder, and a droplet of Taryn’s blood dripped down it. But her lover only hissed, “Don’t surrender, Bron. Go. Run.”

As if there was any chance of that.

“She is the king of Ithicana’s cousin. If you murder her in cold blood, there will be consequences for you.”

His amber eyes showed a myriad of emotions, none of which was fear. “Not murder, Your Highness. War. A war declared by Ithicana when Aren Kertell allied with Amarid. A war fucking declared by Ahnna when she murdered my father in his bed. But it will be Harendell that ends it.”

An alliance with Amarid? Her mouth turned sour, because it seemed a thousand things had happened in the weeks when she and Taryn had been living and loving, politics a distant concern. Yet the world had marched on without her, and now she found herself on the back foot. Ignorant and unprepared, and her eyes stung. Not out of fear but because goddamned Serin filled her mind’s eye, lash raised high as he screamed that she could never let her guard down.

“Knees,” James repeated. “I will kill her, Bronwyn. I will cut her fucking throat without thought or care, because it was you and yours who started this war. Ithicana hurt my family, and I will have blood. It’s only a matter of whose.”

It was no false threat. This was a man who’d spent his adult life at war. Who’d killed enemies beyond number and felt no regret for it. But more than that, this was a man who was in the throes of grief over the death of his father, and every choice he made would be fueled by that pain. There would be no mercy.

Bronwyn dropped to her knees.

“No!” Taryn shrieked. “Get up, Bron! Fight!”

Every part of her wanted to. Except Bronwyn knew that it wasn’t a fight she could win, whereas if she survived this moment, it would mean another day of life to find a way to escape. Be like Lara, she told herself. Be the cockroach that always survives.

She shoved the sword across the floor, and in an instant, the other soldiers slammed her down against the cold stone. Cold steel wrapped around her wrists and ankles, but her attention was all for Taryn’s screams of fury.

“Let her go!” Taryn howled. “She hasn’t done anything!”

James forced her to the ground next to Bronwyn, and she met her lover’s eyes through the tangle of hair that covered her face. “Be calm,” she pleaded. “Taryn, be calm. It will be all right. We’ll be together.”

I will get us out of this.

But Taryn only fought against the Harendellians restraining her. “Bronwyn is not Ithicanian! She’s the sister of Queen Sarhina of Maridrina! Sister to Prince Consort Keris of Valcotta! If you take her prisoner, you will answer to them, you self-righteous sack of Harendellian shit!”

Bronwyn’s eyes burned because Taryn was trying to protect her, but they needed to be together. They were stronger together. “Taryn,” she whispered. “It’s all right.”

James reached down and hauled on Taryn’s chained wrists, easily lifting her to her feet with one hand. “I’m aware of who she is,” he replied, tone frosty. “Which is why she’ll be deported rather than incarcerated.”

No.

Bronwyn twisted onto her side in time to see relief fill Taryn’s face, and she wanted to scream and scream because in trying to save Bronwyn, she was damning herself. “I’m a spy,” she shouted at James. “I’m a spy for Lara. I confess!”

James only gave her a wry glare, then his attention went to the soldiers. “Have her brought to the harbor and returned to Northwatch alive. But she is to be kept in chains and watched by two men at all times. This woman is more dangerous than you can possibly comprehend.”

“I think we comprehend it just fine, sir,” the soldier whose palm she’d stabbed growled, clutching his bleeding hand to his stomach, his eyes promising that while she might make it to Northwatch alive, she would not be unscathed.

James ignored his comment and said to the other soldiers who had appeared, “Have the Ithicanian taken back to Verwyrd for questioning. Make sure she arrives in one piece.”

“Yes, sir.” They took hold of Taryn’s arms, dragging her away.

“No!” Bronwyn screamed, twisting and pulling against the irons. “Let her go!”

Because Taryn would not survive imprisonment again. Would not survive the harsh hands of the enemy upon her again. Not after what the Maridrinians did. Not without Bronwyn to protect her. “Let her go!”

The Harendellians only ignored her, so she howled, “I’ll come for you, Taryn! Do not give up. Promise you won’t give up!”

But Taryn was dragged from sight.

She turned her eyes on James. “If you hurt her, I’ll fucking kill you. I’ll kill you in the worst way imaginable. Make you feel a kind of pain that will have the Magpie smiling from his grave.”

He reached down and hauled her bodily to her feet. Shoving her back against the wall, he closed a hand over her throat and gently squeezed. “I invite you to try to surpass the pain I currently feel, Your Highness, but some things are worse than knives and hot pokers.”

“Please,” she whispered, trying another tactic. “I can’t explain why Ahnna did what she did or tell you where she is, and neither can Taryn. She’s innocent. Please, James.”

“Please.” The corner of his mouth turned up, but his eyes were frigid. His fingers tightened slightly, and he leaned down. His breath was warm against her ear as he said, “Let me tell you a secret, Your Highness: my father adored Ahnna. Everything he did was to protect her. From Carlo. From William. From her own brother. He believed she’d be the greatest queen Harendell had ever known, but rather than trusting him at his word, Ahnna stabbed him forty-seven times.”

Oh God, Ahnna.

“So fuck your please, Princess.” James straightened so their eyes were locked. “We’ll use Taryn to try to bait her back. Do what we must to her to get Ahnna to surrender to spare her cousin’s life. But in case that doesn’t work, in case there is enough humanity in her to motivate surrender, you will be our backup plan. You will travel to Ithicana and act as messenger. Tell Aren Kertell to bring us his sister in chains, or what Silas did to Ithicana will seem like child’s play.”

Bronwyn’s skin turned to ice. “I see now why the Amaridians hate you,” she whispered. “You bastard.”

James’s fingers again tightened on her throat, and he murmured, “We all hate what we fear, Princess, and I think it’s past time Ithicana understood why Amarid hates me most of all.”