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Atlas nuzzles my neck, lips soft over my pulse, before he kisses me with that slow, deep care he’s taken with this entire lovemaking.

I’m not used to being adored, the way he looks at me as he traces his fingers over me, between my breasts, across my jaw, as his other forearm cradles my head under him.

“Remalla,” he says.

“Atlas,” I laugh.

He chuckles and sighs before kissing my throat, pulling away with regret. I stretch, the book beneath my back suddenly uncomfortable.

I don’t need his help, but I accept it as he eases me upright, seating me in his lap again while I lay my head on his shoulder, arms draped around his neck.

“If I did ask you,” he says.

“Don’t.” I’m on the verge of tears again. Why is this happening to me?

“But if I have to choose, it’s you. Of course, it’s you.” Atlas sounds sad even as he hugs me gently.

“You’re right to resist.” I sit up, cupping his face in my hands. Maybe it’s foolish, maybe I’ll regret it. But I believe it, more than I ever have. “They’ll want me to control you.”

He shrugs. “I’d let you.”

“Now you really are being an idiot.” I hop down, anger returning.

“Ouch,” he says, though he’s smiling.

“You don’t understand.” I turn away from him, tugging my robe closed over me. I’m betraying my queen, my people, for what? For a beautiful prince I barely know?

But I know him. Better than anyone. Whatever it is that he’s done to me, that much I’m sure of.

“You came here to seduce me,” he says without judgment, “knowing if you married me that one day you’d be Overqueen and you could control all thirteen kingdoms. You were told that none of the other princesses stood a chance and that you, of all of them, would be the only one I’d find even remotely interesting or attractive.

That you’d be able to seize power from me, and I’d give it to you willingly.

” I’m gaping at him as he flashes me a tired grin. “Did I miss anything?”

“I didn’t know about the others,” I blurt.

He thinks about it for a moment, then shrugs. “But the rest?”

“Or that if you did marry one of the others, Heald would face destruction.” I’m all in with him now.

He considers that before nodding. “That hadn’t occurred to me,” he says. “But yes, of course. They would do that, as punishment for Overkingdom leniency.”

“Mother says.” I stop myself. What am I doing?

“That a pact was made,” Atlas rises from his stool, coming to me.

“By my grandfather. A pact for her mother’s cooperation.

Heald was made certain promises. But instead, once the fighting was over and my grandfather had what he wanted, Heald was restricted.

Because they feared your people, Remalla.

Even weakened and at a fraction of your army’s power.

They feared the might of your grandmother’s forces, your mother’s, the same army my grandfather convinced to fight for him.

” Atlas straightens, stretches himself, sorrow returned.

“He lied, retracted, and in the end, your grandmother and mother were forced to capitulate.”

“It’s all true.” I’m biting my lip against more tears. They no longer feel like weakness.

“It is,” Atlas says. “Heald’s battles for width and breadth against the other kingdoms are justified. When the final lines were drawn, the land that was yours was a fraction of itself. And the army that fought to bring together the Overkingdom just as reduced.”

“They let us wage war,” I say.

“To keep you contained,” he nods. “Squabbling with the other kingdoms, distracted and demeaned. Clawing for what is your right, your heritage, Daughter of Heald. Now, will you marry me?”

He already knows my answer. I kiss him anyway, with regret.

And leave him to his books.

There has to be another way.

I have so much to think about, to process. This kinspark nonsense is just that, at least. I’m not drakonkin, even if Zenthris might be. I’m more torn by my feelings, both about the two men I’m now entwined with, for good or ill, as much as the fact that Mother has been right all along.

Do I dare let her down? I won’t turn Atlas into a pawn. No matter what I do, if I marry him, she’ll get her way, I have no doubt of that. A fierce sense of protectiveness clutches me, forming a barrier around him in my heart.

Yes, my heart.

I can’t be falling in love with him, but I fear that’s exactly what I’m doing.

My bed is quiet and cool and exactly what I need right now, and though I fully expect to toss and turn, I’m out the moment I touch the pillow, blinking awake into the morning’s light, feeling rested and alert.

Things seem clearer for sleep, too, optimism making a place inside me where it’s been absent for a very long time. I rise, ambition and energy carrying me to the exercise yard and a long, sweaty reminder of the warrior princess I was raised to be.

I spot Vae on my return to our wing, hear her giggling as she pointedly stares in my direction, judging me.

While I slow smile and slap my own ass before blowing her a kiss right back.

She’s so startled that she shows me her concern as I laugh and carry on. Now she knows I know what she was up to last night, and her discomfort is my delight.

Time to shed this place for a few hours, Amber’s orders no longer valid.

Then again, she doesn’t know the Overprince has proposed, but I feel vindicated in my choice to don my armor and stride out into the open air of early afternoon, to salute the guards at the doors on my way past. I contemplate Gorgon, but decide to walk, though it’s time I take him out for a good run before he gets as lazy as I’ve been.

I’m being followed, of course. Altar’s ridiculous guard contingent trails behind me like nervous puppies, and while I’d love to send them away, I know it makes him happy, and that makes me happy.

What is wrong with me?

In fact, I’m positively cheery as I stroll toward the market, and I don’t recognize myself at all.

I navigate the crowded streets, my warrior’s senses alert despite my good mood, absorbing the vibrant chaos around me. It’s easy enough to side-step the oblivious, to assist the clumsy, and even to liberate a piece of fruit for a certain blonde child I see watching me.

Apple waves and accepts the small, round treat I toss to her before scampering off. Which means Atlas’s guards aren’t the only ones keeping an eye on me.

I eventually take a seat at an outdoor drinking place, a shadowed corner where I can observe without being overly observed in return. I order a cup of sweet, spiced cider, the taste warm and comforting as it slips down my throat, knocking back the dust of my walk.

I’m not surprised when a shadow falls over my table.

I squint up at Zenthris as he slides into the seat opposite me, a faint smirk playing on his lips, his amber eyes gleaming with that familiar mischief.

I avoid his touch when he tries to reach out for me, but pull away casually.

I know he knows the difference. I’m not interested in a repeat of last night, not until I have answers.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he says, nodding to the serving girl who hurries away to fetch him a drink.

“Fancy,” I say in open amusement. “So unexpected. Since you’ve been having me followed and all. Just a pure coincidence.”

Zenthris chuckles but doesn’t admit it. “I knew you’d come looking for me,” he says with an arrogant air and a wink. “After last night, who can blame you? I figured I’d take pity on you, poor, heart-struck princess.”

I let him smirk. “You’re the one following me.”

He sits back again, silken smile deepening, amber eyes alight. “Ready for more?”

“Ready for answers,” I say, sipping my cider as the girl delivers his.

“No fair,” he says. “That’s blackmail.”

This clever attempt at verbal repartee has suddenly become annoying. “What did we steal the other night? And why is the man guarding it about to turn up dead?” I had to believe Hallick knew what he was talking about.

Zenthris stiffens. “According to whom?”

I shake my head. “I’m asking the questions.”

“I’d rather talk about you,” he says. “The kinspark.”

My jaw aches from clenching it. “Drakonkin legend has nothing to do with me,” I say.

He’s not teasing me anymore, intensity a living thing that makes him shift and sigh. “You’re saying you didn’t feel it when I know you did?”

I’m done with his nonsense. Except my gut has clenched and now I’m anxious again, my joyful day darkening, Atlas’s soothing influence gone. “I was horny,” I say, cold and blunt. “It’s been too long since I had a good fuck.” That’s all.

But that’s not all. The moment I stop speaking, he lunges forward, catching my hand.

And my blood sings with the strange power of his presence.

He holds me though I fight him, his gaze searching mine, assessing. “You really don’t know anything, do you?” His voice is full of surprise, a hint of pity. “You truly have no idea what you are, Remalla of Heald.”

I know what he’s suggesting. The idea is laughable. But before I can tell him so, jerk free from his grasp, a sharp, high voice cuts through the din of the market. “Remalla! There you are.”

My blood runs cold. I turn my head, hand still captive to Zenthris, watching as Princess Vae of Sarn hurries toward us.

Radiant in a silk gown of vibrant green, she pauses at the table, face a mask of saccharine sweetness that holds a cold glint of triumph.

Two of the other princesses, Nethal and Granthenod (I refuse to learn their names, only their kingdoms) equally resplendent, are with her, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and thinly veiled glee. They have found me.

I’m suddenly free, surprised to be liberated, and when I turn back to the table, Zenthris is gone.

Vanished. The seat opposite me is empty, the only trace of him the lingering feeling he’s stirred in me somehow, and a half-empty goblet of cider.

Just like that, he’s a shadow, swallowed by the teeming city.

The loss is a sharp, agonizing pang. The answers I wanted, the truth about myself, gone.

And in that place, the chilling reality of Vae’s triumphant smile.