Copyright

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places,

and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or
are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events,
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Copyright © 2019 by Alloy Entertainment, LLC

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First Edition: June 2019

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Goodlett, Ellen, author.

Title: Rise / Ellen Goodlett.

Description: First edition. | New York ; Boston : Little, Brown

and Company, 2019. | Summary: “Sisters Akeylah, Ren, and
Zofi are all a step closer to their dying father’s throne, but
their pasts continue to haunt them as their blackmailer
threatens everyone and everything they hold dear”—
Provided by publisher.

Identifiers: LCCN 2018038115| ISBN 9780316515351

(hardcover) | ISBN
9780316563635 (library ebook edition) | ISBN
9780316515344 (ebook edition)

Subjects: | CYAC: Inheritance and succession—Fiction. |

Sisters—Fiction. |

Kings, queens, rulers—Fiction. | Secrets—Fiction. | Extortion

—Fiction. |

Fantasy.

Classification: LCC PZ7.1.G6538 Ris 2019 | DDC [Fic]—dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018038115

ISBNs: 978-0-316-51535-1 (hardcover), 978-0-316-51534-4

(ebook) E3-20190502-JV-NF-ORI

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

1: Akeylah

2: Florencia

3: Zofi

4: Florencia

5: Akeylah
6: Zofi

7: Florencia

8: Akeylah

9: Zofi

10: Florencia

11: Akeylah

12: Zofi

13: Florencia

14: Zofi

15: Akeylah

16: Florencia

17: Zofi

18: Akeylah

19: Florencia

20: Zofi

21: Akeylah

22: Florencia

23: Zofi

24: Akeylah

25: Zofi
26: Florencia

27: Akeylah

28: Zofi

29: Akeylah

30: Florencia

31: Zofi

32: Florencia

33: Akeylah

34: Zofi

Acknowledgments

For Mom, my first editor, my role model, my biggest fan. I

just want to say…

I’m sorry for that cliffhanger. Hope this makes up for it.
1

Akeylah

Understand what I do to my enemies. You’re one of them

now.

The words of the blackmailer’s latest threat rang through

Akeylah’s mind, over and over, while she and Queen
Rozalind hurried through Ilian Keep.

We were wrong about our aunt. Yasmin, King Andros’s

overbearing twin sister, wasn’t the blackmailer. The
countess, Sun accept her soul, never blackmailed or
threatened Akeylah and her sisters. All Yasmin did was use
the Vulgar Arts to forge a mental bond with her brother, the
king.

Akeylah learned that when she suffered another vision.

Another threat from the blackmailer, who was still out there.
Still stalking this Keep.

She needed to find her sisters. At her side, Queen Rozalind

paused to catch her breath, and flashed Akeylah a look. “Are
you going to tell me what any of this is about?”

“Not yet.” Akeylah steered toward the nearest staircase as

she mentally debated whether to make for Ren’s or Zofi’s
suite first.

The mental bond Yasmin and Andros created meant Yasmin

couldn’t have known about the girls’ treasonous secrets.
Otherwise King Andros would know, too. And if her father
the king ever learned what Akeylah did—that she was the
source of the curse burning through his bloodstream, killing
him from the inside out—he’d have her executed without a
second thought.
The king’s condition had only worsened since Countess
Yasmin’s death. He’d been bedridden since her funeral.
Akeylah and her sisters told the Keep he was in mourning,
but that excuse would only hold up for so long. Soon people
would find out that more than his sister’s death was ailing
him. Soon the curse Akeylah planted in his veins would take
his life.

And then Yasmin’s murder wouldn’t be the only one within

this Keep.

Murder.

Up until a few moments ago, Akeylah had been certain

Yasmin leaped from the sky gardens of her own accord. She
assumed the countess couldn’t live with the guilt of Andros
learning she’d hidden his daughters’ secrets from him, or
how she’d blackmailed his heirs.

But now, Yasmin’s fall from the towers looked a lot more
sinister.

Did the blackmailer push her?

A shiver ran through Akeylah’s body at the memory of the

blackmailer’s latest vision. They’d forced an image of
Akeylah’s abusive stepfather into her mind, used him to
threaten her. But threats were one thing. Could the
blackmailer have escalated? Were they willing to kill
someone as powerful as Yasmin?

If so, who would they turn their sights on next?

I have to talk to my sisters.

“Akeylah.” Rozalind panted behind her. Only then did

Akeylah realize she’d been practically sprinting, her feet
guiding her toward Ren’s chambers on autopilot. Ren, the
put-together sister. Ren, the one who had the most
experience with the vipers that infested this Keep. She’d
know what to do. “If you don’t want to tell me what’s
happening, at least tell me how I can help,” Rozalind said
through labored breaths.

Akeylah paused halfway up the ash tower steps to consider.

“Can you go to Zofi’s chambers and fetch her? Ask her to
meet me in Ren’s rooms. We need to talk.”

Rozalind climbed close enough to reach for Akeylah’s hand,

and Akeylah caught the queen’s, with only the barest glance
at the empty stairwell around them. Rozalind squeezed her
fingertips gently. “Are you certain you’re all right?” the
queen asked, voice pitched low. “One moment you were on
the floor convulsing, the next you’re sprinting out of the
library, yelling that you need to find your sisters. I’m worried
about you, Akeylah. You won’t tell me what’s going on.”
Roz’s gaze bored into hers, a gaze that would be so easy, so
simple to get lost in.

Akeylah’s heart wilted. She moved down a stair, onto the

same step as Rozalind. With the queen in heels, she stood a
few inches taller than Akeylah.

But it was Rozalind who seemed smaller now, shrunken with

worry. Akeylah cupped her cheek. Leaned in to press a
single, lingering kiss to her mouth. “I promise I’ll explain
everything soon,” she whispered. Then, conscious of the

open halls around them, she disentangled her hand from

Rozalind’s.

Akeylah resumed her climb, hurrying toward Ren’s rooms. It

wasn’t until she reached the top step and turned down a
side corridor that she heard the answering clack of
Rozalind’s heels beginning to descend the stairs in the other
direction.

Unease churned in her stomach. She wanted to reassure the

queen that everything would be all right. But how could she
say that, when she didn’t believe it herself?

Understand what I do to my enemies. You’re one of them

now. The blackmailer had sounded different this time. Angry
enough to kill, perhaps the same way they’d felt when they
murdered Yasmin…

She drew up outside of Florencia’s door and banged on it.

“Ren!” She pressed an ear to the wood. Listened for sounds
of life inside. She heard a rustling, a soft inhalation, like a
gasp. Worried, Akeylah grasped the doorknob. It turned
easily in her hand, and she threw the door open, just as a
figure sat straight up in bed, hair a mess.

For a split second, Akeylah thought it was Ren. Her hair was
the same color, and she had that oh-so-Kolonyan regal nose.
But then Akeylah noticed this girl’s wider face, higher brow,
wider-set eyes. Not to mention her clothes, the kind of gown
serving maids wore.

Akeylah’s face flushed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to

interrupt.”

The girl, for her part, looked even more horrified and
embarrassed than Akeylah. She flung herself out of the bed,
straightening her gown, grabbing the covers. “No, I’m sorry,
ah, my lady. I didn’t… I mean, I wasn’t…” Between her
bleary eyes and the bags underneath, not to mention the
mussed bed she was now hurriedly remaking, Akeylah could
guess what the maid had been doing. It must be exhausting
to serve ladies in this Keep. She’d need to sneak in rest
where she could.
“It’s all right, really.” Akeylah spread her hands, palms up, to
put the girl at ease. “I was just looking for my sister
Florencia.”

The girl’s hands stilled. “Ren?”

The use of the nickname stirred Akeylah’s memory. Of

course. Ren had served downstairs, must have friends
among the maids.

Meanwhile, the girl’s gaze darted past Akeylah, toward the

windows. The sun outside cast a long shadow across Ren’s
hardwood floor. “She told me I could rest here while she
went to the baths. I must have dozed off… But she ought to
be back soon. That was only half an hour ago at most.”

“Where are the baths?” Akeylah asked, tone sharper than

she intended.

The girl tilted her head. Considered Akeylah for a moment.

“I’ll walk you down there,” she said finally. “It’s a bit tricky
to find on the first go.”

They strolled out of the chamber together. After a moment’s

silence, the girl spoke up again. “I’d, um… I’d appreciate it if
you didn’t mention to anyone about me lying down on the
job. It’s just, Ren and I have an understanding, and

—”

“No need to explain yourself to me. Honestly,” Akeylah

added when the girl flashed her a doubtful glance. “I’m
Akeylah, by the way. Did you work with Ren? I mean…
before all this.”

“Audrina.” She bowed, shrinking in on herself in a way

Akeylah recognized all too well. “And yes. Ren and I worked
together as ladies’ maids, before she found out about her
heritage.”

“Well, it’s lovely to meet you, Audrina. And I completely

understand why you’d need a break; I had a difficult enough
time serving my own family back at home. I can’t imagine
what it’s like to serve so many noblewomen here, especially
given how… ah…”

“Finicky they can be?” Audrina supplied with a shy smile.

Akeylah returned it. “I was going to say spoiled.”

“If they look spoiled to you, my lady, imagine how they

seem to us lowly maids.” Audrina hesitated, eyes wide
again. “Begging your pardon, my lady, if I speak out of
turn.”

“Of course not.” Akeylah winced. “You’re right, I can’t

fathom what it must be like for you here. I can only say I
sympathize. My father… Well, he treated me like something
even worse than a servant. Like an abomination.”

Audrina flashed her a curious look. “Mine too,” she finally

replied. Then she reached for a door. “The baths are through
here, my lady.”

Akeylah tailed her into the narrow room. At first, it took a

moment for the scene within to make sense. All she saw
was billowing steam, thick and humid in the blindingly white
room. Then enough steam cleared for her to see, and her
heart dropped.

Two figures resolved through the mist. One at the edge of

the bath, prone, and the other in the midst of tugging the
first from the water.
“Well, don’t just stand there!” the second figure barked, and
Akeylah recognized the girl Ren was always feuding with in
the dining hall. Sarella.

“Do something,” Sarella snapped, and only then did Akeylah

truly process what was happening.

Only then did she see her sister, clad in nothing but a strip
of modesty cloth, spiky short hair plastered to her inert face.

Ren.

“Call the menders,” Akeylah ordered to Audrina, whose jaw

had gone slack with shock. The shout seemed to rouse her,
and Audrina dashed toward the bells that hung along the far
wall, like they did in every room of the Keep, there for
nobles to summon their maids or to call for help in an
emergency.

At the same time, Akeylah dashed toward Ren.

“I came in for a bath.” Sarella was panting. “My damned

private tub has sprung a leak, so I’m forced down here like
some commoner—”

“What happened?” Akeylah dropped to her knees beside her

sister. Her skirts immediately soaked through with the water
puddled around Ren’s body.

“I found her floating on her stomach. I managed to pull her

out, but…”

Sarella gestured helplessly.

Akeylah bent to hold her cheek next to Ren’s mouth while

her fingers groped under Ren’s chin. No breath. A pulse, but
soft and fading fast.
Akeylah tilted her sister’s head up and back.

“What are you doing?” Sarella asked.

Akeylah had never done this before, but she’d watched

sailors perform it enough times. Life in a seaside town with
frequent storms meant she’d seen more than her fair share
of unlucky trawlers fished out of the port and onto the
docks, half-drowned and unresponsive.

Ignoring Sarella’s question, Akeylah pinched her sister’s

nose and inhaled.

Then she planted her mouth over Ren’s parted lips and
blew.

She sat back. Watched. Waited.

Somewhere in the background, she heard the bells clang on

and on, Audrina hanging on the bellpull. If they couldn’t
revive her now, Akeylah knew it would be too late by the
time trained menders arrived.

“Should something be happening?” Sarella tried to elbow

closer.

“Give me space.” Akeylah bent over Ren again. Breathed

into her sister’s lungs once more. Sat back on her heels to
count to three. Fear and anger warred in her veins.

Come back, Ren. We need you.

I won’t let our enemy take you.

She inhaled. Exhaled into Ren’s mouth.

“I don’t think it’s working.” Sarella pursed her lips.

Akeylah’s heart clenched. No. She couldn’t lose Ren. Not
now.

One more try. She leaned down. Breathed into her sister as
hard as she could, and at the same time, offered up a
prayer. Mother Ocean, please don’t let her die.

This time, a spurt of water rose up in response. Ren gurgled,

then spat in Akeylah’s face.

Akeylah fell back on her heels with a cry of relief. Ren

coughed, sputtered, spat again. Began to choke, and
Akeylah rolled her onto her side and patted her back. Kept
doing that until Ren had forced what seemed like at least
half the baths out of her throat.

Next to them, Sarella cursed as Ren’s coughs spattered

across her knees. The noblewoman leaped up and away,
and a near-hysterical laugh threatened to bubble out of
Akeylah’s mouth.

Only then did Akeylah realize she had tears streaming down
her own face.

Tears of fear or joy, she wasn’t sure. She kept her hand
between Ren’s shoulder blades, rubbing in circles until Ren
rolled onto her back. Eyes half-shut, her breathing still
labored, Ren squinted at her sister.

“What happened?” Akeylah asked, voice low and urgent,

even though she could already guess. She knew it the
moment she saw Ren limp on the ground.

Seas, even sooner—she’d felt the fear in her bones, the

desperate need to find her sisters, some instinct spurring
her to search for them right away, despite her own
hallucination in the library.
Ren coughed again. Took a moment before she drew enough
breath to reply.

When she did, her answer made little sense. “The true heir”
were the only words Akeylah could hear.

Akeylah looked up to find Audrina bending down next to her.

“The menders are on their way,” the girl murmured.

Sarella stood a little off to the side, staring down at the

scene, her mouth a moue of disgust.

Ren groaned, and all their eyes fixed on her once more.
Suddenly, with an apparent surge of energy, Ren grasped
the collar of Akeylah’s gown and dragged her down, close.
“The true heir is coming.” With that, Ren fainted.

Akeylah and Audrina stared at each other, their faces mirror

images of confusion, just as the hall outside exploded with
the shouts of the menders.

Florencia

Ren’s eyelids fluttered. In her head, all she could see, hear,
smell was Burnt Bay. She saw the ships aflame. Heard the
screams of the sailors as they drowned.

Tasted saltwater and gunpowder on her tongue. And above

it all, she listened to the blackmailer’s laughter, sharp and
hollow.
It’s time for me to take your place.

It’s time for the true heir to rise.

The true heir. She thrashed, surged upright with a gasp…

and found herself staring at a roomful of people.

She grabbed the covers of the bed in which she lay and
tugged them over her chest, instinctive, as she surveyed
the room. Akeylah. Zofi. Audrina. Mama at her side, in a
chair pulled up close to the bed.

And on her other side, a woman she didn’t recognize,

dressed in mender’s robes.

“Hi,” Ren told her audience after a pause.

“How are you feeling?” Mama caught one of her hands,

pressed it between her own slim fingers.

“What happened?” Ren’s voice came out like a croak. She

touched her throat, belatedly registering the pain. It felt like
she’d swallowed fire.

“The important thing is that you’re awake,” the mender

interrupted, all business. She took Ren’s arm roughly, turned
it over to feel her pulse. “Do you know your name? The
day?”

“Ren. Uh, Florencia.” She glanced around the room. “And it’s
still Syxmonth. Countess Yasmin’s funeral was two days
ago.”

A murmur of Sun accept her soul passed through the

crowded room. As it

did, Ren realized what this meant.

The vision. The true heir.

Yasmin wasn’t their enemy. She was just another victim.

The mender flashed a mirror before Ren’s eyes, tearing her

back to the present. Ren flinched at the overbright reflection
shining into her pupils. “Any pain?” the mender prompted.

Ren’s hand drifted back to her throat.

“That’s to be expected.” She glanced past Ren to address

her mother. “I see no residual signs of mental distress, but if
her breathing slows, or if she grows confused about her
whereabouts, ring the bell immediately. For the time being,
what she needs is rest. She can try to eat in a couple of
hours, something easy on the throat. Soup, perhaps.”

With that, the mender stepped outside. Ren’s mother threw

the rest of the group a pointed look. “You heard her. Ren
needs to rest.”

“In a moment, Mama,” Ren replied. Behind her mother’s

back, Akeylah waved to catch her attention and widened her
eyes with significance. “First, I need to speak with my
sisters.”

“What you need is some sleep,” Mama began, but Ren slid
her hand from her mother’s.

“Alone, please.” Ren stared at her mother until, with an

exasperated sigh, Mama turned to leave. Audrina trailed
after, though not before she offered Ren a quick, reassuring
smile.

Her sisters waited until the door latched. Then Akeylah and
Zofi hurried over, one on each side of the bed.
“What did you see?” Akeylah whispered. “Was it another
vision?”

Ren closed her eyes. Behind her eyelids, the terrible

hallucination awaited.

Ships aflame, bodies broken across the waves of the bay. “I

couldn’t move,” Ren said, avoiding the question. She
couldn’t talk about it all. About what she did.

About the terrible secret she carried like a tumor inside.

Burnt Bay, a rebel attack in which thousands of Kolonyan
soldiers died… It was her fault. “My limbs, my whole body,
got so heavy I sank to the bottom of the baths. Even once I
realized what was happening, I couldn’t move. The force
was so real, so strong.…”

“It’s escalating,” Zofi said, fists balled. “First letters, then

hallucinations, now this. What next? Will this blackmailer
curse us, plant poison in our veins? Or just push us off a
tower like Yasmin.”

“You said something to me,” Akeylah murmured. “After the

baths, before you lost consciousness again. You said, ‘The
true heir is coming.’”

A chill trickled down Ren’s spine. She felt hairs rise along
her arms, at the nape of her neck. “That’s what they called
themself. As I was drowning, the blackmailer spoke in my
mind. ‘It’s time for the true heir to rise.’”

“What does that mean?” Zofi interrupted.

Ren looked from her to Akeylah. “What we already guessed.

Whoever’s doing this to us, they want the throne. They
believe it belongs to them, and they’ll do whatever it takes
to get us out of the way. Even kill us.”
“We need to protect ourselves.” Zofi’s fingertips danced
around the knife she wore at her waist.

“We’ll likely have a couple of days.” Akeylah tugged on one

of her thin Eastern-style plaits. “The heir must be spent
after using the Vulgar Arts twice in a row.”

“Twice?” Ren’s tone sharpened.

Akeylah hesitated. Cleared her throat. “I had a vision, too.

Not long before yours, Ren.”

Ren sat forward, then winced at a pinch in her rib cage. She
sank back against the pillows. “What did you see?”

Her sister paused again. Ren could sympathize. She didn’t

exactly want to share the details of her own experience
either. “A figure from my past,” Akeylah finally said. Then, to
Ren’s surprise, she added, “My stepfather. He… he’s not a
nice person. To put it mildly.” From the way her normally
calm sister wound a plait tighter and tighter around one
fingertip, Ren guessed that was a vast understatement.
“The heir used him to threaten me. They said, ‘Understand
what I do to my enemies. You’re one of them now.’” Akeylah
swallowed audibly.

“And then…” She straightened, seemed to recall something.

“They showed me a book.”

She explained how during her vision, Rozalind watched her

thrash and knock a book off the shelf. Inside it, Akeylah had
found a note written by the acolyte who helped Yasmin work
the Vulgar Arts. Acolyte Casca, who later met a grisly end—
murder via a poisoned bloodletter.

“The note explained what Yasmin did. It wasn’t a curse

against a relative.
And she didn’t work it alone either.” Akeylah drew a deep
breath. “Yasmin and Andros worked the Vulgar Arts together.
This curse—or tithe, whatever you want to call it—it bound
their minds. Permanently.”

Ren blinked in surprise. A permanent bond?

“What, like… mind reading?” Zofi’s eyebrows rose. From her

expression, Ren guessed even her best-traveled sister
hadn’t heard of this before.

“I didn’t know that was possible,” Ren said. And even if it

were, why would the heir show them this book? Unless they
wanted to taunt the girls. Prove just how wrong they’d been
about their aunt…

“Neither did the acolyte, from the tone of this note,”

Akeylah replied. “He called this tithe as much a curse as a
blessing, since it can’t be undone. You work it, you’re stuck
splitting your mind with someone else forever.”

“Every single thought?” Zofi frowned. “Then when we

confronted Yasmin about blackmailing us…”

“Andros would’ve heard, too,” Ren finished.

Akeylah released the plait she’d curled around her finger.

“Maybe. I don’t know how it works precisely, whether you
choose what thoughts to share, but…”

“Either way, whether our father knows we’re hiding secrets

or not, this heir person could reveal them at any moment.
Or worse, attack one of us again.” Zofi straightened to
attention, almost like a Talon. “We can’t be alone, especially
not somewhere vulnerable like the baths. We need trusted
people with us at all times.”
“So basically just each other,” Ren drawled.

“Or your mother,” Akeylah pointed out. “Rozalind, Danton

perhaps.” She ignored Ren’s grimace. “Your friend Audrina,
she called the menders for you.

Seas, even Sarella helped.”

“Sarella? ” Ren’s jaw dropped.

“She’s the one who found you.” Akeylah half smiled, though
she also rolled her eyes. “She spent half the time I was
rescuscitating you complaining about her private baths, but
she did single-handedly drag you from the water before
Audrina and I arrived. If not for her, I shudder to think…”

Ren did, too. She grimaced and studied her hands. She
didn’t know how to feel about bitter-spirited Lady Sarella
suddenly acting generous, but she’d dwell on that later. “We
can’t tell anyone else what’s going on,” Ren said. “It’s bad
enough the heir knows our secrets. Plus, helping us may put
our friends in danger. Look what happened to Yasmin.”

“We can’t do this alone,” Akeylah protested.

To Ren’s surprise, Zofi nodded. “Ren, your mother already

knows something’s wrong. So does your friend Audrina. And
Rozalind. Sands, probably even Vidal. We don’t need to tell
anyone why we need help. But we can ask them to watch
our backs. Besides, nonrelatives are good. They’re immune
to the heir’s curses. Well, assuming the heir doesn’t come
from your mother’s side, Ren,” she added with an attempt
at a smile.

Ren managed a weak one in return. “Let’s hope I’m not their
relative twice over.” Then she groaned and sank back into
her cushions.
“We’ll let you get some rest,” Akeylah said, intuitive as
always.

“In the meantime, Akeylah and I will research the curses the
heir has used.

See if there’s a way to defend ourselves.” Zofi reached over

to squeeze her shoulder. “We’ll figure this out.”

Ren bobbed her head. Smiled weakly as the girls left the
room. A moment later, her mother returned, her face the
very picture of disapproval.

“Mama…”

“I won’t keep you up,” Mama said. “You need sleep. I just
wanted to tell you I’m here if you need me.” She set a full
tumbler of water on the bedside table.

“Your friend Audrina had to work, but she asked me to let

you know she’ll visit soon.”

Ren nodded, eyelids already fluttering shut. “Thanks,” she

managed.

Mama tucked the covers under her chin. The last thing Ren
heard before she drifted off was her mother murmuring,
“You’re safe now.”

Even half-asleep, she knew it for a lie.

3
Zofi

Did you know Lord Rueno is our cousin from two different
lines?” Akeylah asked from across the table where they sat,
deep in the bowels of the library, alone save for the
muttering librarian at the distant front desk. “That makes
Lexana our third cousin, but twice over.”

“I still doubt she’s a close enough relative to work curses as

strong as the heir’s,” Zofi replied with a distracted frown at
her own book. “Keep looking into it, though.”

“What have you found? Anything?” Akeylah nodded toward

the textbook.

“I’ve been reviewing shield tithes.”

Akeylah tilted her head. “Never heard of them.”

“My mother taught me when I was little, but I’d forgotten.…

Travelers don’t find much use for defensive tithes.”

“Because you prefer offense?” Akeylah guessed.

“Because we don’t keep angry blood relatives around to

curse us in the first place.” Zofi laid the book flat. On the
page was a hyperrealistic drawing of a man spread-eagled
with a grayish outline overlaying his skin. “It’s kind of like
the impervious tithe—you know, the one that turns your skin
silver, makes blades glance off you like they’re hitting
stone.”

Akeylah squinted at the drawing. “I remember it.”

“A shield tithe works like that, except it guards you against

curses instead of blades. And it lasts far longer than the
impervious tithe—or any tithe. It lasts a whole day, one sun
cycle.”

Akeylah whistled softly. “Why wouldn’t people use it all the

time, if it’s so effective?”

Zofi traced the outline of the drawing. “Because it closes

you off. Nobody can curse you, but you can’t tithe either, for
as long as the shield lasts. You can’t heal yourself from a
knife wound; you can’t tithe for speed or strength, nothing.”

Even boosts wouldn’t work. Mother had taken great care to

warn Zofi about how dangerous it would be to try, back
when Zofi was little. “Boosting with a shield tithe is like
lighting a fire under your own feet,” she’d said. The tithe
would have nowhere to go but into your veins.

“Doesn’t sound so bad to me,” Akeylah was saying. “Being

shielded would be like being Genalese.”

Zofi scrunched her forehead. “Maybe. But like Genalese

soldiers facing our Talons, it would leave you defenseless
against any other kind of attack, by sword or cannon or—”

“You said it lasts an entire day?” Akeylah interrupted, clearly

not wanting to dwell on the morbid possibilities.

Zofi nodded. “If you perform a shield tithe at sunup, it lasts

until the following dawn. It’s nicknamed Father Sun’s
Favorite.”

Akeylah met her gaze. “Do you think we should start using
it?”
It would leave them vulnerable to normal attacks. But
normal attacks weren’t their concern just now. All she could
think about was what would’ve happened if Sarella hadn’t
stumbled across Ren in the baths yesterday, or if Akeylah
hadn’t known what to do with a drowning victim.

“I think so,” Zofi finally answered. Better to shield than die

like Ren nearly did.

“Can you show me how?” Akeylah offered up her own

bloodletter. “We can teach Ren when we visit her this
afternoon.”

Zofi talked Akeylah through it first. Then she shielded

herself. One shallow, paper-thin cut and the tithe flooded
her veins. She saw her body in her mind’s eye, bright with
the Arts. She caught all that brilliant potential and spread it
out like a blanket. Wrapped it around her body as if to ward
off a chill on a cold night. The moment it engulfed her, she
lost the ability to feel the Arts.

It was like stuffing her fingers in her ears or pinching her

nose. The world took on a duller shine, with a sense of
something important missing. But that was reassuring. If
she couldn’t sense the Arts, the heir couldn’t reach her
either.

Not today, anyway.

That evening, Zofi skipped dinner and started walking back

to her chambers early. A day of reading had left her eyelids
drooping and her head afloat.

Aside from the shield tithe, she’d found nothing else useful.
Akeylah had started a list of second and third cousins, with
Lexana’s name at the top, but no one else stood out.
Zofi wondered whether she ought to stoop to the heir’s
level. “The Vulgar Arts are not to be taken lightly,” Zofi’s
mother used to say, “but they’re like any other weapon.
There can be a time and a place where they’re proper.” Zofi
had never worked the Vulgar Arts, but she’d been to the
sorts of festivals where curseworkers plied their wares.

Was it possible to curse someone she didn’t know? More

than that, could she?

It didn’t matter. Zofi didn’t have time to ride around looking

for a curseworker. And even if she found one, the thought of
doing that, of tithing into someone else’s bloodstream,
leaving a permanent scar on her own body, made Zofi’s skin
crawl.

She didn’t have the stomach to curse someone. Even her

worst enemy.

Deep in thought, she barely noticed the footsteps behind

her in the hall.

Didn’t register the sound of leather on leather, instead of

the usual swish of satin the nobility preferred. That should
have been her first clue.

Instead, assuming the footfall belonged to a passing

servant, Zofi kept walking, eyes fixed on her chambers
ahead. Right up until a firm hand clamped around her
biceps. Even then, she didn’t put up her defenses. She
whirled to find Vidal at her side and smiled, on instinct.

Until she registered the dread in his eyes. I’m sorry, he

mouthed.

The rest of the hallway swam into focus. A full contingent of

Talons surrounded her. Eight, armed to the teeth. Their
swords remained sheathed, at least, though their fingers
lingered on the hilts.

“What’s happened?” Zofi straightened, her posture

mimicking theirs. “Is everyone all right?” Her thoughts raced
to Ren, Akeylah, her father.

“I’m going to have to ask you to come with us, Lady Zofi,”
said the lead Talon, a captain Zofi recognized from the
practice fields.

She frowned. “Why?”

“King’s orders, my lady.” His expression was stoic. “I don’t

know anything more.”

Zofi didn’t like his tone. Or the words king’s orders. If Father
wanted a simple visit with his daughter, he wouldn’t send
eight armed men to fetch her.

Zofi glanced over her shoulder. Her chamber door was only
a few paces away.

Should she run? From her chambers, she could jump over
the balcony, climb to the ground floor.…“Can I have a
minute to dress for the king?”

“Certainly, my lady.” The Talon raised a fist. Three other

Talons—all women

—stepped forward. “My compatriots will accompany you

while you prepare.”

Zofi’s chest tightened. Vidal avoided her eye.

If the Talons refused to let her dress without guards, that

could only mean one of two things. Either they’d been
ordered to follow Zofi and her sisters, like after Yasmin’s
death, when the king feared for his family’s safety, or… She
swallowed hard.

Or these guards had been sent to arrest her.

“On second thought, this outfit is the nicest thing I own,

anyway.” Zofi pivoted in a way that kept the lump of her
longknife hidden beneath her shirt, and took the lead,
striding toward the cherry tower and the king’s residence.

The Talons fell into step around her. More than once, she
stole glances at Vidal’s miserable, regret-filled expression.

A memory flashed through her mind. The sky gardens on

the night of Yasmin’s murder. Dancing with Vidal. Slipping
away with him under the veil trees. His face tilting toward
hers, their lips a mere breath apart when Yasmin screamed.

Zofi hadn’t seen him since. But despite the weeklong

absence, her pulse sped up at the sight of him. She brushed
his arm as they walked, deliberate.

Vidal stiffened. After a moment’s pause, he grazed a finger

along the back of her hand in response.

She forced a small, sharp smile. I’ll be fine. She didn’t know
if she was trying to convince him or herself.

The Keep looked eerie in the triple moonlight, which

zigzagged through the windows, casting patchwork
shadows. The corridors stood empty, the only sound the
march of their boots. One small Traveler girl flanked by eight
soldiers dressed for battle.

It might seem like overkill, but only to someone who hadn’t

seen Zofi drill in a melee against these Talons. At least
whatever Father thought of Zofi, he did not underestimate
her.

Finally, they reached the king’s suites. The captain knocked.

“Send her in,” came her father’s voice.

Zofi obeyed. Father looked worse than the last time she’d
seen him, sunken against his bedding.

“Leave us,” the king told the captain.

The Talon hesitated. “Your Majesty, we have been tasked

with ensuring your safety—”

“I need to speak with my daughter,” Andros snapped.

“Alone.”

“At least one soldier, Your Majesty. Please.” Before the

captain had finished speaking, Vidal stepped forward,
silently volunteering.

Andros sighed, then nodded. The other Talons filed out,

shutting the heavy stonewood doors, and Vidal fell into
guard stance at Zofi’s back. Zofi approached her father’s
bedside.

He didn’t look very kingly at the moment. He hadn’t left this

bed without others’ help since Yasmin’s funeral. Tonight,
he’d propped himself against the headboard, five pillows
barely holding him upright, his forehead slick with sweat.
The illness had eaten away at his once proud features. His
cheeks were sunken, his eyelids drooping.

Zofi watched him carefully. “Father.”

“Save it.” His voice was a broken, crackling thing. Normally
he spoke with steel underneath. Now, he sounded like an old
man. “Is it true you killed my son?”

Her heart skidded in her chest. Behind her, she could sense
Vidal tensing, too.

Memories flashed through her skull, rapid-fire. Blood on her

hands. Puddled around her. The Silver Prince, D’Andros
Nicolen, faceup and empty-eyed at her feet.

Her half brother, she now knew. With her knife in his heart.

She swallowed, throat suddenly dry as the desert. For

months now, she’d dreaded this moment. Andros learning
what really happened to his son. Who was responsible.

She did what she had to do; she killed Nicolen to save Elex,
her best friend.

But still…

“I don’t know what you mean, Father,” Zofi finally replied.

Her voice came out like his. Soft. Hollow.

“I cannot put it more plainly, daughter. Did you have a hand

in my only son

—my heir’s—death?”

She flinched. The true heir. The hairs on the back of her
neck tickled. Could Nicolen be responsible for all this
somehow? Back from the grave to avenge his own death?

Don’t get superstitious. She dug her nails into her palms
and willed her face into a worried frown. “You arrested the
man responsible for Prince Nicolen’s
death just a couple of weeks ago, Father.” She thought
about Elex. The unfair, rigged trial he would have faced. The
noose he’d have worn for her. She’d broken him out of the
dungeons, but he still had to live on the run. “You seemed
so certain that boy did it, Father. You even ordered his
execution.” She couldn’t hide the tinge of anger in her
voice, at that word.

“But it was my own child I should have looked to instead,”

Andros responded. Unshed tears shone at the corners of his
eyes. “My sister spoke the truth. She came to me tonight, a
visitation from the Blessed Sunlands. She told me of the
poison in our blood. I did not want to believe it, but the look
on your face tells me everything I need to know, daughter.”

Zofi froze. A vision? “Yasmin is dead, Father,” she said

slowly.

“Yes. You killed her, too,” he spat, anger rising. He struggled

to sit forward.

“She told me everything. All the sins you’ve committed. The

shame you’ve brought upon this family.”

“Your Majesty.” Vidal stepped forward.

“Vidal, be quiet,” Zofi muttered. She would not let anyone

else shoulder her crimes. Not again.

He ignored her. “I was with Lady Zofi at the Sun’s

Ascendance, when Countess Yasmin…” He bowed his head.
“When the countess passed, Sun accept her soul. Lady Zofi
and I were dancing. Zofi could not have been involved.”

“I did not ask your opinion,” the king bellowed. “Hold your
tongue, soldier, or leave.”
Vidal’s mouth snapped shut.

Meanwhile, Zofi’s mind raced. She remembered the

hallucination the blackmailer sent her. A vision of Nicolen
back from the dead, taunting her. Just like Akeylah’s
stepfather appeared to her. The blackmailer told Zofi if she
didn’t leave Kolonya City, they’d reveal her secrets. Clearly
this was how they’d chosen to do it—by using Yasmin’s
ghost as a weapon.

But Andros didn’t know about the blackmail. He had no idea

if his vision was real, or what caused it. “You’re sick, Father.
You’re imagining things. Let me send for the menders.”

“I am sick! Poisoned by the gods for filling this world with

murderers.”

“Father, please listen, you’ve got this all wrong—”

“Captain!” he shouted. The doors swung inward, nearly

bowling Vidal over.

Her gaze darted from the king to his balcony window. If she
ran, would she make it?

Then what? Scale down the Keep before a Talon could fire a
phantasm dart into her neck? She’d never make it down the
tower, let alone through the entire city. Last time, even with
Elex at her side, she’d needed Vidal’s help. And she couldn’t
even tithe, because she’d shielded herself for the day.

Running suggests guilt. Vidal had told her that once. Back
when she’d only just arrived in Kolonya. Back when running
would have been so much simpler.

When she thought the only thing she had to fear were
secrets.
She looked away from the window. She wouldn’t run. It was
her word against a ghost’s.

“Take Lady Zofi to the dungeons,” Andros ordered. If this

surprised the captain, he didn’t let it show. A few Talons
even smirked when he clamped irons on her wrists.

Zofi could guess what they were thinking. Finally, we can

get rid of this drifter once and for all. Only Vidal looked sick
with worry.

“Send for the menders,” Zofi begged the captain. “My father
needs treatment.”

“If I’m ill, it’s only at the sight of you, daughter.” But Andros
said this without venom. “How could you have betrayed me
like this?” His voice broke.

“You’re making a mistake, Father.” Zofi started toward him.

“There’s more at work here than you know; enemies who
want to tear our family apart—”

“I’ll hear no more excuses. Lock her in the dungeons until I

decide what to do with her.” Only Zofi seemed to notice the
quiver in the king’s voice. He lowered his gaze, as though he
couldn’t bear to watch the Talons march her from the room.

Father’s torn expression stuck with her as the captain

hauled her away.

Zofi had done a lot of things others might consider

unsavory. Breaking a wanted criminal from the dungeons.
Killing a prince who threatened her friend.

But she’d never regretted it. She did what she needed to
protect her people.
Now…

The Talons half dragged, half shoved her into the corridor.
She stumbled, caught herself.

She used to hate the king for raising a son like Nicolen. For
allowing his Talons to run roughshod over the Reaches,
abusing their power. She still disagreed with many of his
decrees. Yet, in the last few weeks, she’d seen another side
to him. The father who wanted to teach his daughters. A
king who listened to the suggestions she made.

She still didn’t regret ridding the world of a violent man like
Prince Nicolen.

But thinking about the pain it caused Andros opened a

strange new crack in her rib cage.

So this is what guilt feels like, she thought as the captain

shoved her down the dungeon steps. And another thought,
hard on its heels. One that let her stand straight again, even
after they slammed the cell door shut.

The heir did this. One way or another, I’ll make them pay.

Florencia

You look almost as bad as I feel,” Ren told Audrina with a

grin, which quickly devolved into a grimace as she
readjusted against her pillows.
Akeylah had stopped by last night to help her perform the
shield tithe Zofi discovered. It worked but left Ren more
drained than ever. The moment Akeylah departed her
chambers, she’d fallen straight to sleep, only roused this
morning by Audrina’s knocking.

On the far side of the bed, Aud’s face was drawn with
concern. “Very funny.

How are you feeling, honestly?”

“Lucky.” Ren’s smile clouded. “Thank the Sun for you and
Akeylah.

Otherwise…” She shuddered. She couldn’t stop thinking

about the water filling her lungs, drowning out the world.

“Don’t thank the Sun. It’s the moons who favor girls like us.”
Audrina winked.

It was a saying she and Ren had invented when they were
young and less than faithful to Madam Oruna’s rules.
According to Kolonyan lore, Syx, Nox, and Essex were the
lights of lovers, spies, and thieves, respectively. The moons
had a reputation for disobedience, much like Ren and Aud
when they’d sneak out at night to gallivant around the Keep,
nicking strongwine from the cellars or midnight snacks from
the kitchens.

Ren tried for a smile at their old joke, but failed.

Audrina sighed. “Besides, if you thank anybody, it should be

Sarella, believe it or not.”

“I should write to her. Express my gratitude.” Strange as it

felt to thank Sarella for anything, Ren did owe the woman
her life.
“I wouldn’t bother.” Audrina rolled her eyes. “I tried already.
Her response was, and I quote, ‘I’m not some kind of
monster. Just because Florencia’s horrible doesn’t mean she
should die.’ Then she stormed off.”

Ren’s lips twitched with amusement. “That does sound more

like her.”

“Speaking of unpleasant people…” Audrina hesitated.

Looked away before she spoke. “Danton’s been asking after
you.”

Ren sighed. “I know. He stopped by last night.” Before

Akeylah had come to visit, Ren had feigned sleep and
listened to her mother and Danton’s whispered
conversation. He’d sounded truly concerned, voice hoarse
with worry. And yet.

Danton was still engaged to marry Lexana. Something he

didn’t tell Ren about when, just a couple of days before
announcing the betrothal, Danton spent the night in Ren’s
chambers.

She’d finally decided to trust him again. Finally opened her

heart once more.

And this was how he repaid her. Sun above, had he already
been promised to Lexana the night they…?

“Are you thinking of seeing him again?” Audrina studied Ren

from the corner of an eye.

“Of course not.” Ren groaned. “You were right to warn me

off him, Aud.”

“Someday you’ll learn I’m always right.” Audrina smirked.

Then her smile fell. “I am sorry, though. I know how you felt
about him.”

“How are you doing?” Ren asked, suddenly conscious that

she hadn’t the faintest clue what was happening in her best
friend’s life of late.

“Oh, you know. The usual. Catering to impossibly pampered

ladies’ every whim.”

Ren grimaced in sympathy. “Who have you been assigned

to?”

“Lexana,” Audrina replied with a groan, surprising Ren.

“I always thought Lexana was one of the good ones. Taste in

fiancés aside.”

In fact, she pitied Lexana. For the rest of her life, she’d be
yoked to Danton, a man without honor or care for others.

But Aud scowled. “Sun above, no. Or if she used to be

decent, time in the Keep has spoiled her. She has me up at
odd hours escorting her through the servants’ corridors,
dropping concealed letters into the mail trays. Even asked
me to string up privacy curtains in some unused
bedchamber. Sun only knows what she gets up to in there—
she had me awake all night changing the locks on it two
days ago. Before… well, ah.”

Before I almost died.

Ren recalled Audrina’s wan face that morning, before the

attack. Aud had

asked to take a nap in her bed, and Ren couldn’t say no. So
she went to the public baths to give her friend some privacy
and much-needed rest.
“I had no idea Lexana would prove such a handful, Aud. Can
I do anything to help?” Even as she spoke, her mind raced.
Sending hidden letters, building a secret hideout?

Aud flashed a grateful look. “Would you mind asking Madam

Oruna for a transfer?”

Belatedly, Ren remembered the list Akeylah had pulled

together, way back before they settled on Yasmin as the
likely perpetrator. Her sister had made a list of every noble
descended from the outer Reaches’ former royal lineages—
people who’d stand to inherit if Andros died without a viable
heir. Lady D’Rueno Lexana had been on that list.

Not only that, but Lexana was a cousin.

It wasn’t much to go on, but now Lexana’s behavior

sounded out of character.

Ren knew her as a soft-spoken girl, polite at parties, nice to

her servers. Maybe that was just a front, disguising the
power-hungry blackmailer inside.

Don’t jump to conclusions. Still, evidence pointed to her

hiding something.

Across the bed, Audrina groaned. “You have your plotting

face on, Ren.”

“I’m just thinking Lexana’s behavior is off. Would you mind

terribly staying in her service a bit longer? Just to learn what
she’s been up to.”

Audrina peered at her, suspicious. “Why?”

Ren’s mind raced. She needed an excuse. One besides I

think she could be involved in a blackmail plot against me.
“Well, if she is sneaking around on Danton…”

“You want to break them up? I thought you just said you
were finished with him.”

Ren affected a sigh. “Can’t a girl want a little revenge?”

Audrina snorted. “Far be it from me, your loyal spy, to

question my mistress’s motives.”

She said it like a joke, yet Ren still flinched, stung. “No, Aud,
I didn’t mean… I’m sorry. You’re right, I’ve asked too much
of you already. I’ll talk to Oruna—”

“Don’t.” Audrina pressed her lips together, clearly still

annoyed. “You want to know what Lexana’s up to, so I’ll find
out what she’s up to.”

“I don’t want it badly enough to keep you in a miserable

situation, Aud. Your friendship means the world to me.”

“In that case, what kind of a friend would I be if I left you

hanging now?”

Audrina’s tone brightened, though it sounded forced. She

rose and reached for the door. “I need to get back to work.
I’ll report back soon, I promise.”

Ren sank back into her cushions, exhaustion and guilt

warring in her chest.

I’ll make it up to her somehow. Though she knew, deep

down, she’d made that empty promise before.
Footsteps creaked on the far side of the room. Ren sighed
and rolled over. Bright noonday sun painted the curtains.
She must have fallen back to sleep after Audrina left.

Mama had returned from her morning errands. “Try and

drink a little more water.” Her mother nodded toward the
tumbler at her side without quite meeting Ren’s gaze.

“I’ve had enough water.” Ren searched her mother’s face.

Mama crossed to the window, hands wrung in a worried
gesture Ren recognized. “What’s wrong?”

“You’ll have all the time in the world for news later. For now,
you must recuperate.”

She sat upright. “Why? Is the news so distressing it will send

me into a fit to hear it?”

Mama dropped into a chair. “You first, Ren. Tell me about

your accident.”

“I told you already—”

“You did not slip and hit your head on the marble, Ren. You
have no bruising anywhere, no sore spots.” Ren should have
known Mama’s head rub last night

—“to help you sleep”—was a trick. “So either you fell asleep
and nearly drowned through sheer ignorance, or there’s
more to this story than you’re telling me.”

Sometimes Ren wished her mother wasn’t so perceptive.

She couldn’t tell her everything. Not about the Eastern

rebels or the fact that she smuggled them information that
led to Burnt Bay. The less Mama knew, the safer she was.
But she knew her mother wouldn’t let up without some kind
of explanation.

And much as Ren hated to frighten Mama, she couldn’t

carry this burden alone anymore. Not all of it.

Zofi’s advice echoed in her mind. We don’t need to tell

anyone why we need help, but we can ask them to watch
our backs.

“I’m being threatened,” Ren murmured.

“By whom?” Mama surged from her chair. “Have you spoken
to your father?

You should have an extra guard—were you attacked in those

baths?”

“It’s… complicated.”

Mama froze. “Have you told your father?” she repeated,

slower now.

“I just said it’s complicated, Mama—”

“Florencia.” Uh-oh. Her full name never preceded anything

good. “You are the daughter of a king. Your life is no longer
yours entirely. You have a duty to protect yourself.”

“I’m using a shield tithe, Mama. Zofi taught us—”

“One tithe performed by a foreign girl we barely know is

supposed to reassure me?”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Ren snapped. “She’s my

sister. So is Akeylah
—I’d be dead right now if not for her. You need to stop
talking about them like their only defining characteristics
are their origins. They’re just like you and me, Mama.
They’re family.”

“We are family, Ren.” Mama reached for her hand, but Ren
drew back. Hurt flashed across her mother’s face. “You’ve
only known these girls for less than a month. You don’t know
their backgrounds or how they were raised. Those things are
important. That’s what makes a person who they are. So if
you’re being threatened, attacked, you need to rely on the
family you know. The family you’ve had since the day you
were born.”

Family. She recalled Danton’s warning about that. Family

either strengthens or kills you, he used to quote at her.
Nothing in between.

Danton might be the most poisonous viper Ren had ever

encountered, but he wasn’t wrong. This true heir was a
blood relative. Someone with connections, spies—someone
well-placed enough to not only have learned about Ren’s
treason, but also whatever crimes her sisters had
committed far away from Kolonya City. The heir must have
eyes and ears everywhere.

Ren knew her mother would never betray her, but could
Mama be used as a pawn? Played by someone she trusted
in turn?

“I can’t tell you what’s going on, Mama.” Ren refused to

drag her mother into this mess. It was bad enough that she,
Zofi, and Akeylah were caught up in it. “Just trust me when I
say I’m handling it. As you say, I’m the daughter of a king
now. I must learn to face my problems without putting those
I care for in danger.”
She thought of Yasmin’s broken body, splayed across the
cobblestones below the Keep. Ren had been so sure the
countess was guilty. Her death had only

proven it in Ren’s mind. A suicide driven by shame.

Now she realized Yasmin’s death signaled something more

sinister. For whatever reason—perhaps because the girls
had ignored the heir’s deadline and refused to leave
Kolonya City by the Sun’s Ascendance—the heir had
escalated from covert threats to outright murder. First
Yasmin. Then the attempt on Ren’s life.

“Don’t be silly, Ren.” Mama caressed the back of her hand

with a thumb. “I carried you in my womb. For nine whole
months, we were the same person, you and I.”

“So you always remind me, Mama.”

“It’s a unique bond, Ren. You’ll understand one day, if you

decide to have a child. The feeling of that new life within
you… And Sun above, tithing when pregnant was a high like
none other. The strength of two willpowers in one body…”
Mama’s gaze drifted.

“So I’ve heard. It’s why Queen Suisa insisted on leading her
own troops in the Fourth Genalese War, despite being seven
months pregnant with the future King Floren.” Because the
queen, like all pregnant women, had been able to tithe with
her blood as well as the blood of her unborn son. Twice the
strength. Twice the abilities.

“Your namesake, I might add.” Mama’s eyes sparkled with

humor, only for a moment. “What I’m saying is, your
burdens are mine, Ren.”
“I’ll explain everything,” Ren said. “After you tell me this
news you’re so worried about. What’s going on out there?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Mama took a deep breath.

“Ren, my warning about trusting your sisters wasn’t just idle
speculation. At least, one sister in particular…”

Sun above. Ren’s stomach plummeted. “What are you

talking about?”

“It’s not public knowledge yet. I heard it from an old friend,

captain of the internal guard. I ran into him in town; he
frequents the same abraca seller I do

—”

“Mama.”

Her mother relented. “Zofi was arrested last night.”

“What?” Ren flung back her covers. Leaped to her feet.

“Why?” Was this the heir’s doing? When drowning Ren
didn’t work, when the girls all began to shield themselves
from curses, had the heir turned to another method of
destruction?

“Lie down,” Mama barked. “This is why I didn’t want to tell

you. You’re in no condition to go running around the Keep.”

Ren caught the bedpost. For an instant, spots danced at the

edges of her vision. She blinked once, twice, and her sight
cleared enough for her to grab her dressing robe. Normally
she’d never be seen in public like this—hair sticking up in
every direction, the black-and-silver robe contrasting
horribly with her pale pink sleeping gown.
But news of her sister’s arrest drove all other concerns from
her mind.

“I need to see Akeylah.” Akeylah would know what had

happened. Together, they would find a way to save Zofi.
Fight back, if this arrest was indeed the heir’s doing.

Mama caught her wrist. “Ren, you mustn’t get mixed up in

this. Rumors are already circulating—they say Zofi may
have had something to do with the Eastern rebellion, or
possibly even Prince Nicolen’s death.”

One of those, Ren thought. The other was all me.

Technically, she didn’t know that Zofi killed the Silver Prince.
But it didn’t take a genius to piece it together. Not after Zofi
begged Ren to free her friend, who’d been accused of
Nicolen’s murder, from the dungeons. Zofi swore her friend
was innocent. How could she have been so certain, unless
she knew who the real killer was?

They all had secrets.

“I’m already mixed up in it, Mama. As you just reminded me,

family bonds are irreversible. Zofi is my sister, like it or not.”
Ren tore her arm free and grabbed the doorknob.

“Florencia,” Mama said in an entirely different voice. “Stop.”

Startled, Ren glanced over her shoulder. Her mother’s
expression had gone cold and hard. It was a look Ren had
seen before, though never directed at her. The mask Mama
put on when she was spoiling for a fight.

“You said if I told you the news, you would explain what
happened in the baths. Before you scurry off to the sister
you suddenly love so dearly, you owe me this much.”
Ren searched her mother’s face. Waited for some crack, a
hint of sympathy.

She found no quarter. So Ren lifted her chin, and gave none
in return. “You will have your explanation once I am satisfied
it is safe to give it to you. It’s for your own good.” Her
mother stormed forward, but Ren slammed the door on her
outraged shout, and hurried toward the mahogany tower.

Akeylah

Akeylah had just reached the Great Hall for the midday meal
when Rozalind intercepted her. The queen’s fingertips came
to rest on her forearm, electric as ever. Akeylah’s blood
sizzled, but the excitement took a nervous bent when she
glimpsed Rozalind’s furrowed brow. “I need you to come to
the king’s chambers,” Rozalind murmured. “Now.”

“Is everything all right?” Akeylah searched the queen’s

gaze, startled. “Is Father…?”

“I’ll explain everything there.” Rozalind pressed her hand

once, hard. “Bring Florencia, too, if you can find her.” With
that, Rozalind vanished into the swirl of nobility.

Dread pooled in Akeylah’s stomach. Why Ren and not Zofi?

Was Father worsening?
Akeylah hadn’t gotten a chance to speak to Rozalind in
private since the heir attacked her in the library. Since she’d
raced off to find Ren half-drowned in the baths.

Yesterday, between visiting Ren and researching relatives,

she’d been too busy. This morning, Akeylah had tried to find
Rozalind, but the queen had been absent from breakfast.
When Akeylah stopped by the king and queen’s chambers,
Talons had barred her path, sent her away.

She thought about the curse eating its way through her
father’s veins, and her stomach roiled. Is he all right?

Akeylah hurried toward the cherry tower. She’d only reached

the base of the steps when she ran headlong into a tall, slim
figure. It took her a few blinks to recognize her sister. She’d
never seen Ren like this—hair a mess, clothes in

disarray.

“Akeylah.” Ren grabbed her shoulders to steady herself. “I

was just looking for you.”

“Same.” Akeylah shrugged her sister’s hands from her

shoulders and tugged her into motion instead. “Rozalind
needs us in Father’s chambers. It seemed urgent.”

“I can guess why.” In a low, furious voice, Ren relayed

everything she knew.

Father had Zofi arrested late last night. The Talons had been
ordered to keep it quiet, but this was the Keep. Word got
around sooner than later.

“That must be why his chambers have been shut all day,”
Akeylah said. “I tried to visit, but the Talons wouldn’t even
let me near the doors.”
“We’re his daughters.” Ren’s mouth formed a grim line. “Just
like the one he imprisoned last night.”

“You don’t think they suspect us, too?” Akeylah’s hand

drifted toward the scar on her thigh. The telltale glowing
blue mark left by the Vulgar Arts curse she worked against
her father, albeit by accident. If the king ever accused
Akeylah, he wouldn’t even need to put her on trial. Proof of
her guilt shone right on her leg.

“I doubt it.” Ren sounded so sure that Akeylah darted a

curious glance her way.

“Do you know what Zofi did? Or what Father believes she
did, anyway?”

“I think so,” Ren replied. “But it’s not my secret to share.”

Akeylah hesitated. She hated to pry, but she wanted to

know how bad this was. “Is it enough to justify Father
throwing her into the dungeons?”

“It’s… I’ve done worse. I don’t judge Zofi. But I understand

why Father arrested her.”

Akeylah cursed under her breath. In the back of her mind,

she heard the heir’s words. Understand what I do to my
enemies. She was beginning to.

“We didn’t leave when the heir demanded,” Ren continued.

“This is exactly what they said they’d do—reveal our secrets
to Father.”

“We don’t know they’re behind this. Though, it does sound

like them.…”
Akeylah frowned as they reached the king’s suites. The
immense cherry stonewood doors of His Majesty’s chambers
were flanked by Talons, though this time the guards waved
them onward.

Akeylah’s mind leaped to a happier memory. The last time

she entered these chambers, she’d been at Rozalind’s side.
Of all the places in the Keep to be overheard, here is the
least likely, Rozalind had whispered as she drew Akeylah

across the threshold.

Why is that? Akeylah had asked.

Because my husband doesn’t plant spies in his own

bedroom.

For an instant, all she could think about was that moment,
when Rozalind’s lips collided with hers. She shook her head,
jarred herself back to the present.

“Lady Akeylah and Lady Florencia, Your Majesty,” a Talon

announced.

A thick curtain had been drawn around Andros’s four-poster

bed. More drapes swathed the windows, and the lanterns
burned low, candles guttering in their frames.

Rozalind appeared like a spectre in the gloom. “Close the

door.”

Akeylah and Ren stepped inside, and the guards barred the
latch behind them.

Only then did Rozalind rush forward, catching Akeylah in an

embrace so tight it knocked the wind from her lungs.
“Akeylah. Florencia,” she added over Akeylah’s shoulder
with a tight smile.

“How is he?” Akeylah murmured into the queen’s hair. Her

normally pristine bronze curls were a tangled mess.

“Not good.” Rozalind drew away, too soon, and Akeylah’s

arms felt empty from the lack of her.

“Can we see him?” Ren asked.

Akeylah’s pulse doubled as Rozalind drew the curtain.

Andros lay on the sheets, eyes open, mouth slack.
Completely immobile. No. No, no, no…

But then a slow, shuddering inhale sounded, and she

watched his chest rise. It fell again a moment later, his
breath fluttering the sheet tucked under his chin.

Her shoulders slumped in relief. He wasn’t dead. Not yet.

“How long has he been like this?”

Rozalind perched on the foot of the bed. “Ever since he

spoke to Zofi last night.”

“You mean ever since he had her arrested.” Ren took up a

spot at her father’s right hand.

Akeylah crossed the room more slowly. Father’s dark, rich

complexion had gone chalky, the color of rotten wood. His
eyes stared at something beyond this world, as though he
already had one foot halfway into the next.

I did this to you. Her hands shook. This is my fault.

“He says he had a vision,” Rozalind said.

Akeylah and Ren exchanged worried glances. They both
knew all too well how dangerous visions could be.

“Yasmin appeared in a dream. Supposedly, she told him Zofi

murdered his

son.”

Prince Nicolen. Akeylah startled. Ren, on the other hand,

didn’t react. From that, Akeylah guessed this must be Zofi’s
secret. A secret she’d shared with Ren but not Akeylah.

Not that I’ve shared my own secret with anyone. Akeylah

had no room to talk. Yet the idea of her sisters sharing
confidences without her bothered her more than she cared
to admit.

Rozalind spoke on, oblivious. “After Andros ordered her

arrest, he fell into a fit—screaming, shouting… I called a
mender. She stayed all night. Around dawn, he lost
consciousness. The mender thinks the stress of his
daughter’s betrayal, well…” Rozalind shook her head, voice
tight with sorrow. “She says it’s unlikely he’ll wake again.
Ever.”

Akeylah stepped closer, tears stinging the backs of her

eyes. Poor Father.

Zofi’s secret may have broken his heart, but it was

Akeylah’s fault he’d fallen ill in the first place. She reduced
him to this empty shell.

“How long?” she heard Ren ask softly. “Before he…”

Akeylah closed her eyes.

“His mind is most likely already gone,” Rozalind whispered.
“As for the body, he’s still swallowing water, and even some
mouthfuls of porridge. He may yet live another week. The
mender gives him a fortnight at most.”

A week or two at most. Then Akeylah would become a

murderer.

“Are you sure?” Her voice snagged in her throat. “You’re

sure he isn’t still…

in there?”

“I don’t know.” Rozalind wiped her eyes with the back of one
hand. “I hope not. Can you imagine if he is? Lying there
listening, unable to tell anyone he’s here…”

A tear escaped, snaked down Akeylah’s cheek.

Rozalind stood. “I should go. Give you both some time with
him.”

“We’d appreciate that,” Ren began, but Akeylah spoke over

her.

“Stay. Please.” Akeylah reached for Rozalind’s hand. Curled

her fingers through the queen’s. Then she reached down to
take Andros’s limp hand in her other.

Her father’s fingers felt cool, rough at the tips. Calluses. She
wouldn’t have expected a king to have hands like that. But
then, he’d never been one to sit back and lead passively.
She remembered the stories of his youth. Andros leading
the charge against Genal in the Sixth War.

Across the broad mattress, Ren stood stock-still, like a

person frozen in time.
She gazed at their father, face full of pain and regret.

Akeylah knew exactly how she felt.

“I thought we’d have more time,” Ren whispered. “Now it’s

a week or two, and none of it with him able to offer
guidance, to tell us who he wants to succeed him, or
anything.…”

“Who knows about this?” Akeylah glanced over her shoulder

at the door, thinking about the Talons on the other side.

“So far?” Rozalind cleared her throat. “The mender. You two.
That’s all.”

“You haven’t told the regional council or any of the nobles

yet?” Ren spoke up.

Rozalind bowed her head. “I thought it prudent to keep this

quiet for now. If you think it best to reveal the extent of his
illness to court, that is your prerogative. You two are his
heirs.”

“You’re his wife,” Akeylah reminded her, though the words

sounded hollow with their fingers entwined. “Maybe we can
keep it quiet for now. Just until we’re certain of his fate.”

“I just wish he’d left some sign.” Ren grimaced. “Some

indication of what he wants us to do. There are no Kolonyan
legal provisions for a situation like this, with multiple
potential heirs. If he passes now… it’ll be chaos.”

“Then we must pray the mender finds some cure, by Father

Sun’s will,”

Rozalind whispered.
But the mender did not know what Akeylah did. The true
cause of this illness. The curse Akeylah had planted in his
veins. If she could find a counter to it, cure him within the
next week… Perhaps he still stands a chance.

A fortnight at most, the mender said. It sounded so short,

and yet, she’d only been in the Keep a little longer than
that. Three weeks now, or was it four? How much had
changed in her life, in that short span?

How much could she change things again?

“The menders say we have two weeks. That’s two weeks

left to fix this.”

Akeylah flashed her sister a look. “You’re right. The

succession isn’t clear. And given present circumstances…”
Given the true heir haunting them. “It will cause chaos once
the court learns how bad he is. If we keep the extent of his
illness quiet for now, it buys us time to prepare.” And time
to find the heir, to stop them before they steal the crown.

“Not a bad idea,” Ren said.

“It gives us time to secure Zofi’s release, as well. A dream

told Father she was guilty?” Akeylah raised her eyebrows.
“That’s not enough proof to justify

holding her.”

Rozalind tensed, though when she spoke, her tone was

gentle. “I know you care for your sister. But have you
considered the possibility your father is right?

Arresting her was his final wish. Do you want to undo it so

casually?”
Yes. Guilty or not, Zofi had done no worse than Akeylah
herself. “Do you think my father is right to imprison his own
daughter based on a hallucination?”

Rozalind glanced down at the king. “I don’t know. But I’ve

spent nearly two years at Andros’s side.” Akeylah resisted
the urge to flinch. She hated the reminder of who Rozalind
was, her place in the kingdom. “Your father would never
imprison anyone, let alone his child, without due cause.”

“He’s ill,” Ren said. “He wasn’t in his right mind.”

“You didn’t see him last night.” Rozalind’s jaw hardened.

“I’ve never seen him so heartbroken, so torn about
something, not even after—” She stopped herself short.
Swallowed whatever her next words had been. “I’m just
saying, don’t be so quick to jump to conclusions.” When she
looked to Akeylah again, her eyes shone. “Someone has
been threatening you.”

Akeylah’s pulse jumped. “How do you—”

“I’m not an idiot, Akeylah. You asked me to dig up a body so

you could confront Yasmin about her past. Then there was
the fit you suffered in the library, which didn’t seem to
surprise or faze you for long. Not to mention the way you
found poor Florencia in the baths.” She gestured at Ren,
who winced.

“It’s clear to me that you’re in danger. Both of you. How do

you know it wasn’t from Zofi?”

For a split second, Akeylah thought about it. Really thought.

Zofi was the one who broke into Yasmin’s chambers and
brought back a note confessing to the murder of Acolyte
Casca. A note that led them in the completely wrong
direction.
Then there was the night in the sky gardens, when Yasmin
fell. Akeylah had been dancing with Rozalind, and Ren had
been with their father. But where did Zofi go? Akeylah didn’t
remember seeing her again, not until Yasmin had already
fallen.

And of course, only Ren and Akeylah had suffered the heir’s
latest hallucinations—a vision that nearly drowned Ren, and
another that turned Akeylah to a cowering mess.

But then, why would Zofi reveal her own secret? Why get
herself arrested? It made no sense.

“We just know,” Ren spoke into the silence Akeylah left, her
voice hard.

“And we don’t have to explain ourselves to you.”

Rozalind bristled. “I’m not asking for an explanation. I’m

asking you both to be careful. News of Zofi’s arrest has
already spread. If she has committed this crime, and you
release her, you could be accused alongside her. Whereas
now, no one can reach her in the dungeons, nor can she
reach anyone else. If she is the threat, no more harm will
befall you while she’s trapped there. If she isn’t, once proof
of her innocence has come to light, you can free her at a
later date. No harm done.”

“Except to her reputation.” Ren crossed her arms. “You of all

people should understand how important appearances are
here in Kolonya.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Rozalind scowled.

“Stop it,” Akeylah tried to say. But her voice stuck behind a
lump in her throat.
Luckily, a deafening knock interrupted. Akeylah left the two
glaring daggers at each other and crossed the chambers to
peer outside.

“My lady.” A Talon in full uniform, leadership medals glinting

on his chest, bowed. “I have come to receive my orders
from His Majesty.”

“I’m afraid my father is indisposed at the moment.” Akeylah

wedged her foot behind the door, so it would only open a
crack. “I will inform him that you visited.”

The Talon frowned. “His Majesty and I have an appointment.

He’ll be expecting me.”

“Something has come up.” Just a few weeks, and the Keep
had made her a practiced liar.

The man’s eyes narrowed. “This is urgent. We need to know

how to proceed regarding Lady Zofi. Your father told us he
would decide by morning whether to hold a full trial or pass
sentence in private. It is now early afternoon, well past his
deadline. We require an answer.”

Behind her, Akeylah heard footsteps. Felt the familiar cool

graze of Rozalind’s fingertips at the small of her back.
“Thank you so much for coming.”

Rozalind smiled. Akeylah eased the door open a little wider,

both of their bodies blocking the Talon’s view. Behind her,
she heard the swish of Ren drawing the bed curtains.

“As Lady Akeylah told you,” Rozalind continued, “my

husband is currently occupied. But he has asked us to act as
his go-betweens.”
“My father sees this as a family matter,” Ren said, joining
them. “Not a spectacle for public consumption. He has
decided against a trial.”

“I see.” The Talon hesitated. He clearly wanted to hear this

from the king directly. But even a high-placed commander
couldn’t question the authority of the king’s daughters—let
alone two of them, plus his wife. “In that case, what are we
to do with the prisoner, my ladies?”

“Release her,” Akeylah replied at once. Below the hems of

their dresses, she felt Rozalind step on her heel. On the
other side, Ren dug an elbow into her rib cage.

The Talon’s jaw dropped. “Release her? My lady, this is a

dangerous prisoner, one your father instructed me to arrest
with extra guards. I cannot believe his mind so utterly
changed—”

“He doesn’t mean to release her into the Keep,” Akeylah

amended quickly.

The Talon wouldn’t believe her if she asked him to liberate

Zofi completely. But maybe she could find another way
around this. A way to give Zofi her freedom without arousing
suspicion.

A decision that would satisfy the heir, too. The blackmailer

ordered the girls to leave Kolonya. If Zofi left now, no longer
a contender for the throne, would the heir allow her to live?

Zofi, forgive me. Akeylah hated to decide her sister’s fate

for her. Yet she had no choice. “The king would like Lady Zofi
returned to her band of Travelers.”

The Talon’s furious scowl relaxed, just a little, around the

edges.
“Banishment?”

She swallowed hard. “Yes. But we will not call it that publicly.
Not until my father feels ready to confront this issue.”

“But what of the girl’s crimes? She is a danger to the royal

family, he said so himself.”

“Which…” Akeylah’s mind raced. Again, she felt Ren’s

elbow. “Is why he would like her removed from the city, sent
to a safe distance at which she can do no harm to us.”
Akeylah straightened her shoulders and raised her chin, a
posture she’d seen Ren make when her sister wanted her
way. “Lady Zofi made mistakes, but she is still a part of this
family. A family that has suffered enough losses. My brother
was murdered. Then my aunt. As you know, my father has
been sick with grief.” The Talon’s face softened in sympathy.
“If Father does not wish to parade my sister’s crimes before
the world, we must respect his decision.”

Please believe me. Please.

The Talon’s frown melted entirely. “I understand, my lady.

But this is all highly unusual.” He looked to the queen. “The
courtiers will question this. My

own men, too.”

Rozalind huffed. “Your men will question the authority of the

king and his heirs?”

The Talon’s eyes went wide. “Of course not, Your Majesty.”

“I should hope not.” Rozalind’s tone went icy cold. “You

have your orders, soldier. Now see to it they are carried
out.” With that, the Talon bowed, and Akeylah slammed the
door. All three of them sank against it.
“Banishment?” Ren hissed.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Rozalind murmured.

Akeylah shut her eyes. So do I.

Zofi

All night, Zofi stared at the bars of her cell, lost in thought.
She curled on her side, knees up to her chest, hugging them
for warmth. Yet even as she shivered, she barely registered
the cold.

Play their game, Mother had told her. Zofi had tried. She
tried to play the king’s daughter, the promising heir, the
loyal sister. She played the game, and she lost.

It was the heir’s game now.

She tightened her arms around her knees. Squeezed so

tight it hurt. She imagined what awaited her in the morning.
Trial, certainly. Before the regional council, or perhaps in
front of the whole court.

Or maybe Andros would keep things quiet. Maybe he’d

confront her himself.

Would he demand a blood oath? Could she lie her way out of
this one?
She was sick of lying. Sick of the games.

She wished she could see her sisters one last time. She’d
ask them to get a message to her mother. I’m sorry I failed
you. Then she’d ask Ren and Akeylah for one final favor.

Beat the heir. Win the throne. Stop this monster from
claiming it.

Because that’s what the heir was—a monster. Andros called

Zofi the poison in his blood, and that may be true. She was
no innocent. But the heir was something far more deadly.
The heir reminded her of Nicolen. Ruthless, willing to stop at
nothing to gain power.

Zofi had seen enough corrupt Talons and townie guards to

know what sort of people craved leadership for power’s
sake.

She’d arrived in Kolonya despising this city, this court, and

Andros above all.

But over the past few weeks, Zofi had come to understand
the king. She may not agree with all—or even most—of his
policies, yet she had seen him take advice from Akeylah on
the Eastern Reach; watched him meet one-on-one with his
subjects and hear their concerns; even spoken to him about
military strategy herself. He’d listened. Andros was flawed,
yes, but not above changing. He truly cared about his
people. She could see that in him.

Not to mention, he’d given his daughters a chance. A

Traveler, an Easterner, and a former lady’s maid. He taught
them, trained them, waited to see who proved the best fit
for leadership based on merit, not their background or
status.
Zofi may not always like her father, but she respected him.

The heir would be completely different. If she thought

Kolonya was bad now, she could only imagine the depths to
which it would sink under a terror like that.

Locks clanked in the distance. Zofi sat up, still shivering.

They’d taken her boots when they searched her for
weaponry, and her bare feet froze against the dirt floor.

Four Talons marched up to the bars. She stood.

“Turn around,” one said, voice hard.

With a scowl, she obeyed. She had no weapons, and no

boosts either. The shield tithe she performed last night in
the library—a lifetime ago, it seemed—

would wear off in a few hours, yet even so, she didn’t stand
a chance against this many guards. Not unarmed.

“Hands behind your back.” The Talon bound tight rope

around her wrists, and a moment later, another shoved a
burlap hood over her face.

Her stomach clenched. Perhaps Andros had decided to forgo

a trial altogether. Maybe he’d decided to march her straight
to the executioner’s block instead.

She struggled to keep her back straight, head high, as the

Talons marched her from the cell. At some point, they
crammed her into a wagon. She held her breath. Waited for
the sounds of the screaming mob to greet her. Yet all she
felt was warm sun on her skin, and a muggy afternoon
breeze.
The wagon rattled through the city in silence, save for the
occasional distant cry of a merchant or clatter of passing
hooves. Nobody shouted or taunted.

Nobody remarked on the bound and hooded prisoner.

Maybe Andros wanted to do this privately. That would be

more like him.

Execute her with just a few witnesses. Something dignified,

if you could call death that. It felt like the best option to
hope for just then. Yet it didn’t calm the angry churn in her
gut.

I don’t want to die.

When the Talons finally yanked the sack from her head, she
blinked in confusion, eyes taking a moment to adjust to the
bright sunlight.

She stood outside the city, past the portcullis. She looked
from Talon to Talon, peering beneath their lowered helms.
Her heart sank. No sign of Vidal’s familiar square jawline.
Another goodbye she’d never get to make. It stung more
than it should.

But not as much as the thought of her mother, her band,

Elex… all out there somewhere, oblivious to her arrest. How
long would it take before they learned of her execution?
Weeks, months?

Would they mourn her, or would Elex blame her for dying,
when she’d promised to win the throne instead? She didn’t
even know what Andros would do with her body. She
doubted he’d entomb his son’s murderer in the Necropolis.
Especially not if he believed she killed Yasmin, too. But
would he think to send her home to Mother?
Maybe he’d simply dump her body in the River Leath, which
glittered beside her now. A traitor’s death.

“Zofi.”

She turned, startled at the sound of Akeylah’s voice. Her

sister hurried across the bridge from the city, Ren at her
side. An instant later, Akeylah’s arms were around her. One
of the Talons cut Zofi’s bonds, and she raised her arms to
hug Akeylah back, frowning in confusion.

“Give us a moment,” Ren told the Talons. All four bowed and
crossed back over the river to the far side of the bridge.
Though Zofi noticed the leader continued to watch warily.

She drew back from Akeylah’s embrace. “What’s going on?”

So Akeylah explained. About their father, his prognosis. A

week or two to live, at most. And about Akeylah’s quick
thinking, convincing the Talons to release Zofi to her band.

“I’m sorry,” Akeylah finished with a pained expression. “I

couldn’t think of another way to free you. At least, not an
explanation the Talons would believe.

…”

“They aren’t suspicious?” Zofi glanced at Ren.

“Not yet. Rozalind is, ah, fairly convincing at relaying ‘the

king’s demands.’”

Ren smiled faintly.

“I didn’t mean to have you banished.” Akeylah wrung her

hands. “But I thought if you went to trial, they might, well…
I mean, given the crime…” She
flashed an apologetic look.

Zofi forced a carefree grin, even though she felt anything

but. “Hey, better banished than imprisoned or executed,
right?” She looked from Akeylah to Ren.

“I’m guessing you told her?” Zofi asked the latter.

“Rozalind told us what the king accused you of doing,” Ren

replied. Always a diplomat.

“It’s okay.” Zofi waved a hand. “At this rate I’m surprised the
whole kingdom doesn’t know already.”

“They won’t if we can help it.” Akeylah squared her

shoulders. “We’re going to manage this, Zofi. Your crime,
Father’s illness. We can conceal it all.”

“And deal with the heir, too?” Zofi arched a brow. “Though,
if you could pardon Elex, the boy from my band who took
the fall for me…”

Ren nodded. “We’ll clear his name.”

“Thank you.” She smiled and hoped it looked reassuring.

“Don’t spend too much energy worrying about me. I’m
going home. Back where I belong.” It was what she’d
wanted when she first came to the Keep. The chance to go
back to her band, her family. Leave all this behind.

So why did part of her feel hollow, now she’d finally been
given the chance?

Because part of her family was here now.

“We brought this.” Ren held out Zofi’s rucksack. “I added

some dried fruit, cured meat, and water. A few coins, your
boots. And we talked that knife you’re always waving
around back from the dungeon guards.”

“Thank you.” Zofi accepted it with a faint grin.

“Least we could do.” Ren spread her hands, apologetic.

“You two need to be careful.” Zofi lowered her voice. “Make

sure you both shield every day, and don’t be alone
anywhere you’re vulnerable to an ambush.”

She knew she should be relieved. I’m not about to die.

Instead, she felt a new fear, bone-deep. I’m abandoning my
sisters—my whole kingdom—in the hands of the enemy.
“With Father gone, you’re all that stands between the heir
and the throne.”

“He’s not gone yet.” Akeylah’s yellow-green eyes hardened.

For a split second, she reminded Zofi of Yasmin. “Zofi, while
you’re away… I was hoping you might be able to do me a
favor. It’s a long shot, but I’m desperate.”

“Anything, if it’s in my power.” Zofi frowned, and caught Ren

doing the same. Clearly whatever was on Akeylah’s mind,
she hadn’t shared with Ren either.

“I’m looking for a Traveler woman. A curseworker.”

Zofi thought about the festivals she’d been to, the

bejeweled women her mother had pointed out from time to
time. Curseworkers, if you asked in the right way, at the
right time. “One in particular?”

“Yes.” Akeylah surveyed her sisters. Drew a deep breath.

“The one who helped me curse our father.”

Zofi’s jaw went slack.

“What? ” Ren sputtered.

“It was an accident.” Akeylah tugged on one of her dark red

plaits. “A horrible accident. I was trying to curse my
stepfather—the man I thought was my father, Jahen, an
abusive piece of…” She clamped her mouth shut. And her
eyes. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is I worked the Vulgar
Arts against Andros instead, and I’ve been trying to right
that wrong ever since.”

Vulgar Arts? Zofi had wondered what dark secrets her sister
was hiding, but even she could never have guessed this. “Is
that what you’re always researching in the library?” she
finally asked.

Akeylah nodded. “So far I’ve found nothing. I thought the

curseworker who taught me in the first place might know a
way to reverse it.”

“There are thirteen bands. Hundreds of Travelers spread out

across the Reaches.” Zofi grimaced. “I can ask around, but
the chances of locating her are slim, I’m just warning you.”

“Like I said, it’s a long shot.” Akeylah’s brows contracted.

“But the mender says Father will only live another week or
two. A slim chance is better than none.”

“Hurry it up, ladies,” the lead Talon shouted from back

across the bridge.

“That one needs to leave the city outskirts before nightfall.”

He sneered at Zofi.

In the distance, the sun hovered at the horizon. At the back

of her mind, Zofi felt a faint tingle; the Arts flooding back
into her senses as the shield tithe lost its grip. At least she
wouldn’t need to keep shielding herself anymore, now that
she was about to ride out of the heir’s crosshairs for good.
“What’s the woman’s name?” Zofi asked.

“She never gave it,” Akeylah murmured. “But I can describe

her. Short, with bushy black curls like yours and a thin face,
black eyes.”

“You’re describing nearly every Traveler in the Reaches.”

Zofi rolled her eyes.

“She had a scar on her face.”

Zofi froze. Did she mean…? Surely not.

“Ladies.” The Talons marched closer.

“One more moment.” Ren backed away to head them off.

But Zofi had eyes only for Akeylah. Her sister lifted a hand
to her cheek.

Traced a finger from her eyebrow to her jawline in a half-

moon. “It ran along her cheek like this. It stood out, even
though it was thin, because it looked silver against her
skin.”

A chill crept down Zofi’s spine. Impossible.

But there was only one Traveler who matched that

description. A woman who had earned her scars—quite
literally—decades ago, fighting as a mercenary in the Sixth
War.

Zofi’s mind raced, connecting the dots. She never lets

anyone see her without a shirt on. Says the scars from the
war are too disfiguring. But what if they weren’t from the
war? What if the real reason she never let anybody see
them was because some of those scars shone blue?

“Right, time’s up.” The Talons had made it past Ren, who
shrugged helplessly behind them. “King’s orders. You’re to
leave the city limits by nightfall.”

She went to those fairs. She always knew who to ask for and
when and where. She was probably the most connected
person in the Reaches. The one people turned to for illegal
things, hidden things, things no law-abiding citizen ought to
know.

But then, when had their band ever respected Kolonya’s

unfair laws?

Akeylah watched her intently. “Do you know her?”

“I’ll say.” Zofi tugged her sister into another tight embrace.
Whispered against her ear, where the Talons couldn’t see.
“That’s my mother.”

Florencia

Ren and Akeylah spent most of the night after Zofi’s

departure in the library, continuing the lineage research Zofi
and Akeylah had begun. Every so often, Ren stole glances at
her sister.

Akeylah cursed our father.

She’d always known there was more to her sister than
Akeylah’s quiet demeanor suggested. Ren had studied
Akeylah long enough to know her sister had a well-practiced
hunting face; the sort of mask one would need if, say,
they’d grown up in an abusive household.

But this… This was more than Ren had expected from
Akeylah. Darker.

If Akeylah had been willing to curse their father, would she

stoop to cursing anyone else? Maybe the heir had been
lurking right beneath Ren’s nose all along.

Akeylah said she’d suffered another vision from the heir,

just before Ren’s.

But Akeylah didn’t nearly die. In fact, the heir gave Akeylah
more information.

Handed her the key to Andros and Yasmin’s mental bond. It

almost seemed like the heir might be helping Akeylah.

Or Akeylah herself is the heir…

Ren shook herself. She’d spent too much time with her
mother lately. The heir wasn’t aiding Akeylah; they were
gloating. Proving to the girls that they were wrong, that
Yasmin had died for nothing.

Akeylah was her sister. Ren trusted her.

She needed to. Otherwise, she’d be in this alone. That Ren

truly couldn’t face.
The morning after their late library night, Akeylah and Ren
divvied up

Father’s schedule. They left Rozalind to babysit the

comatose king while Ren met with disgruntled minor nobles
and Akeylah addressed the field hands about the crop
blight. With a pang, Ren thought how proud Father would be
to watch them handle these appointments, so similar to the
training tasks he’d given them a few weeks ago. Before
everything changed.

She hoped her actions now, in some small way, would begin
to make up for her sins. For Burnt Bay, for her mistaken
suspicion of Yasmin, for Father’s illness itself. All of it. She
might not be able to heal Father, or bring Yasmin or those
soldiers back, but she could keep the kingdom running in
Father’s stead.

Support the people who remained.

Including the best friend she’d been either using as a spy or

neglecting recently.

Later in the day, after her meetings, Ren invited Audrina to

lunch in a private dining room. She ordered Aud’s favorite
fish and the nettle tea her friend loved.

But when Audrina arrived, her friend barely glanced at the

food. She perched on the edge of her chair, hands toying
with her sleeves, one eye on the door.

“That’s a lovely dress.” Ren gestured at the deep blue gown

with long, tight sleeves. All the rage, both in color and style.
Normally Audrina wasn’t one to chase trends. “Is it new?”

“Hmm?” Audrina looked down. “Oh, this.” She shrugged.

“One of the maids planned to throw it away. It was my size,
so.”

An awkward silence fell. Ren cleared her throat. “How have

you been?”

“Busy working for Lexana.” Aud shifted in her seat. “Busy

enough I can’t afford to stay long. Ren, it was nice of you to
invite me, but have you forgotten what it’s like below-stairs?
Any moment I take to myself I have to make up fourfold
later.”

Suddenly Ren understood her friend’s reticence. She smiled,

hoping to reassure her. “Of course I remember, Aud. Don’t
worry. I cleared your schedule with Madam Oruna. She
promised to have another girl cover your duties.”

“Ren, I know you feel guilty about all the favors you’ve
asked. But this isn’t what I wanted either.” She waved a
hand at the food cooling on the table. “I don’t want special
treatment, any more than I want to be your personal spy. I
just want things to go back to the way they were. Back
when we were friends.

Equals.”

“So do I.” Ren reached for her friend’s hand. Aud shifted it
out of reach.

“Audrina, you are still my friend.”

“But no longer your equal.” Bitterness seeped into her

friend’s tone.

“That’s not what I meant—”

“How can a princess be friends with a maid?” Aud’s voice

rose. “You’re in line to become the next Queen of Kolonya,
and I’m a nobody.”

“Not to me,” Ren replied sharply.

Audrina laughed. “No, I’m just your favorite tool.” Her friend
finally met her gaze. “Go on, Ren. Ask me what I learned
about Lexana. I know you’re dying to.”

“That’s not why I invited you here.”

“But you do want to know.”

Ren winced. “After this, I’m done with favors. We’ll be back
to normal, I promise.”

Across the table, Audrina sat in stony silence. Finally, after a

long pause, she sighed. “You were right. Lexana’s having an
affair.”

Ren’s eyebrows rose. “With who?”

“I don’t know yet. But that room she asked me to curtain

off? She had me escort her there one afternoon. I left the
curtain ajar and saw a man enter. The room was dim; I
couldn’t see his face. But I certainly noticed the way he
kissed her. Among other things.”

Ren pursed her mouth. “When was this?”

“Two days ago.”

The same night her father arrested Zofi. The night the heir
cursed him with a vision of Yasmin. If Lexana was with
someone else, she couldn’t have been the one sending
visions to Andros. “How long did they stay in that room?”

“All bloody evening. She made me stay outside and wait for
them to finish.
Another sleepless night for me, just so she can have her
Eastern fiancé and sample the local globe fruit, too…”

Ren groaned. “Thank you for the mental image.”

“Better that than the actual image, trust me.” Aud smirked.
Then flashed Ren a curious glance. “What’s the matter? Isn’t
this what you’d hoped for? It’ll ruin Danton’s engagement.”

Ren ran a hand through her hair.

Audrina continued to study her. “Unless that’s not what you

were looking for after all.” When Ren didn’t respond,
Audrina leaned forward. “You can tell me.

Like you said, Ren, we’re friends. If we’re going back to the
way things were, that means trusting each other.”

This time, when Ren reached for Audrina’s hand, her friend
didn’t pull away.

“You don’t know how much that means to me.” Especially

now, when Ren could

trust so few people.

She still couldn’t drag Aud into this. Not fully. But she could
give her friend enough information to placate her without
putting her in harm’s way. “I’m being threatened.”

Audrina’s eyes shot wide. “By who?”

“I don’t know. They call themselves the true heir—”

“What, like a secret identity?”

Ren shook her head. “Your guess is as good as mine. All I

know is they want me gone from Kolonya, or worse.”
Audrina’s jaw dropped. “The baths…”

Ren nodded. “They…” She swallowed hard. “They used a

curse against me.

To make my limbs stop working. I sank under, nearly

drowned.…”

“A curse?” Audrina frowned, clearly thinking hard. “But only

—”

“Only relatives can curse you, I know.” Ren rubbed her

temple with a forefinger. “That’s all I know about the heir.
It’s someone related to me.”

“Well, did this heir tell you what they want so badly? What
in Sun’s name is worth trying to drown your own relative?”

“They want the throne. Which means they need to get rid of
me and my sisters first.”

Audrina inhaled sharply. “What are you going to do?”

“For now? Avoid taking solo baths,” she joked weakly.

“Beyond that, I don’t know. Keep looking for the heir. Track
suspects.”

“You suspected Lexana,” Audrina supplied, catching on.

“She’s related to you?”

Ren bobbed her head. “A cousin, on my father’s side. But if

she was with a lover all night, two days ago, then it can’t be
her.”

“They’ve threatened you again? Since the baths?” Audrina

leaned forward.
“Ren, who else knows about this? Your father, or someone
who might be able to help you?”

She shook her head. “I can’t tell anyone, Aud.”

“Why?”

“Because.” The truth itched to spill out. But she drew the
line at admitting how terrible a person she was to the only
friend she had left. “I’m sorry. I can’t tell you any more.”

After a moment, Audrina nodded. “Okay. I understand.” Her

friend gripped her fingers so hard they ached. “But if things
get any worse, Ren, I hope you remember who you can
trust.”

Ren entered the Great Hall for dinner at Akeylah’s side. At

the head of the room, the king’s and queen’s seats stood
empty. As they’d agreed after much debate, Akeylah and
Ren ascended the dais to sit side by side in those chairs.
Two sisters in place of a king.

Just this simple gesture caused murmurs to spread through

the hall.

Ren didn’t like to dwell on the chaos that would erupt if

Andros died without an officially sanctioned heir. She didn’t
know what would happen, whether the regional council or
the council of lords would force a tribunal. And what would
the heir do if they saw the throne wide open for the taking?

“How did your afternoon appointments go?” Ren asked

Akeylah to distract herself.
“Lord D’Quinn Cass wants the newest ship in our fleet
named after him.”

Akeylah rolled her eyes ever so slightly.

Ren stifled a laugh. “What ego.” But she faltered when she
spotted a familiar face across the Great Hall. Sarella.
Walking straight toward the dais, her gaze fixed on Ren’s.

Next to her, Akeylah spoke on. “It’s strange, isn’t it, how
easily these day-today queries can distract you. When I first
came to the Keep, I judged the nobles for focusing only on
their petty complaints. But now that I’m listening to them,
it’s just as hard for me to remember what’s important. How
do we keep our heads above water when everyone’s
desperate to drag us into the muck?”

“Like this, I suppose.” Ren watched Sarella approach. “We

keep each other in check. Every day, we remind each other
what matters.” She straightened as Sarella reached them.

“My lady?” Sarella sank into a curtsy. “I wonder if I might

have a word.”

“Lady Sarella.” Ren smiled. “I’ve been hoping for the chance
to thank you.

Without your aid in the baths, I fear I wouldn’t be here

today.”

Sarella’s narrowed eyes flicked to Ren. “I wasn’t speaking to

you. Though I do worry that my instinctive and
magnanimous decision to aid you was misguided.”

Ren cast her sister a wary frown. What now?

Sarella turned toward Akeylah. “May I speak with you alone,
Lady Akeylah?

I do not feel comfortable speaking about this matter in front

of her.”

Ren glanced around the room again. Was everyone staring

at both of them?

Or just at Ren…? “Whatever you have to say, you can tell us

both, Sarella,” Ren

said.

Then, in the distance, motion caught Ren’s eye. Audrina,

dressed like a serving girl instead of in her maid’s uniform.
She carried a water pitcher in one hand and waved her
other wildly to catch Ren’s eye. Aud mouthed something
Ren couldn’t quite decipher.

“Lady Sarella, my sister and I were just about to begin our

meal.” Akeylah smiled. Ren hoped Sarella didn’t notice the
strain around the edges. “Might we discuss your concerns
after?”

“It is urgent, my lady, and regards your sister’s character. I

assure you, once you hear this tale, you won’t want to break
bread with such a woman.”

Ren finally realized what Audrina was mouthing. Get out.

“Lady Florencia is my sister.” Akeylah’s voice went cold. “I

assure you, it takes more than mere court gossip to turn me
against family.”

In the distance, the main doors swung open. Audrina

stopped waving and turned to stare in horror. Ren’s heart
beat faster as the Southern and Western ambassadors
marched into the Great Hall, flanked by Lord D’Vangeline
Rueno, his daughter Lexana, and the Talon captain.

Ren rose. So did Akeylah.

Rueno strode straight toward their table. Behind him jogged

Lexana, eyes wide as saucers. A moment later, Danton
hurried into view. He, too, mouthed something.

I’m sorry.

Dread pooled in Ren’s stomach.

“Where is the king?” Lord Rueno demanded without

preamble.

Ren cleared her throat. “Our father is indisposed. How can

we assist you in his stead?”

“You cannot assist with anything,” Rueno spat in her

direction. “Lexana, come here.” Lexana obeyed, though she
kept her face turned to the floor, mouth a thin, trembling
line. “Tell Lady Akeylah what you told us.”

“Father, please—”

“Now, Lexana. This is a matter of state security.”

For a heartbeat, Lexana met Ren’s eye, expression

unreadable. Was that fear, or something darker Ren saw
written across her features? Then Lexana bowed her head
once more, meek and obedient. “I found some letters.
Hidden in an old, unused suite.”

An unused suite you were sneaking off to have an affair in,

Ren thought.
Rueno produced a stack of paper as thick as Ren’s forearm.
She only caught a

glimpse of the first page, but she recognized the curling,

perfect script even from a distance. The heir.

“The letters are from a known rebel sympathizer in the

Eastern Reach, addressed to Florencia,” Rueno said. “They
contain proof that Florencia sent information to the
rebellion. Including the battle plans the rebels used against
us in Burnt Bay.”

If a lady dropped a hatpin right now, Ren felt certain she

would hear it strike the floor.

Ren glanced at Danton. The letters might be faked by the

heir, but the information they contained? All too true.
Danton shook his head just once, barely noticeable. Don’t
say anything.

Panic clawed at her throat. Everything she’d worked for. The

reputation she’d carved for herself. Her new position in the
Keep. It would all come crashing down now.

Lexana picked up the thread. “Josen, the king’s personal

valet, is responsible for cleaning the study where the king
kept his plans. He told me Lady Florencia returned his study
keys one evening, a few months before Burnt Bay. Lady
Florencia claimed she found Josen’s keys in the chambers of
the lady she served at the time.”

“That would be me,” Sarella piped up from somewhere on

the edge of the crowd. “There were no keys in my chambers
that evening. I believe Florencia stole them herself.”

You were so blind drunk that night you couldn’t remember

your own name.
Ren clenched her jaw to swallow the retort. It wouldn’t help.

The Talon captain spoke up. “Until recently, we could not

fathom how the Eastern rebels knew our ships were coming,
or when to fight back. But with assistance from within the
Keep…”

“With all due respect, Captain, I heard nothing about this

from my Eastern contacts,” Danton interrupted.

“And just how effective have your contacts proven at

garnering us intelligence, Ambassador?” Ambassador
Ghoush raised a brow.

Ren sat forward. If she didn’t speak up now, Danton would

hang himself, too.

She may hate him for his betrayal, but she couldn’t let him
die. “My lords,” she started, but froze.

Under the table, Akeylah’s foot dug into hers. Wait. Ren
stuttered to a halt.

Akeylah glanced Ren’s way. Could she see the guilt written
on Ren’s face?

Did her sister know this was true?

If so, then Akeylah had become a very adept liar over the
past few weeks.

Akeylah turned back to the crowd with a bewildered

expression. “Lady Florencia was born here. She grew up
serving you all. She is the daughter of your king. What
motivation could she possibly have to smuggle information
to rebels in a Reach she’s never even visited?”
“Well…” Lord Rueno narrowed his eyes. “I—”

“How could an honest man like Lord Rueno fathom the

twisted mind of a girl like her?” Sarella scowled. “Florencia
served as my personal maid for years, where she proved
entitled and greedy. Perhaps the Easterners paid her for this
information.”

“The key word there, my lady, is perhaps.” Akeylah kept her

tone gentle.

“None of us know what happened. We will wait upon my

father’s judgment before we take action.”

Shouts rose at the back of the hall. Somewhere, a man

cried, “Arrest her.”

“She killed my son,” a woman yelled.

Rueno cleared his throat. “My lady, if we could see His

Majesty at once—”

“Given the nature of this accusation and my father’s

delicate condition, I believe it best if I speak to him
personally,” Akeylah replied, with only the briefest stutter.
Under the table, Ren pressed her knee against Akeylah’s for
support.

“Of course, my lady.” Rueno and the captain exchanged

glances. “But please inform him we are eager to hear his
decision as soon as possible. From him, naturally.”

“Naturally.” Akeylah offered a polite smile. “I’m sure his

summons will reach you soon. Captain?” Akeylah turned to
the Talon. “Would you please escort us to the king’s
chambers?”
Only once they began to move through the crowd did Ren
understand Akeylah’s request. Her sister wanted the captain
to prevent any furious Kolonyans from attacking the traitor
behind Burnt Bay. Muttered curses followed them across the
Great Hall.

Hatred I deserve.

Outside the Great Hall, Ren pretended to trip. Akeylah knelt

to offer her a hand. “I’m as good as dead,” Ren hissed.
“Distance yourself from me. Protect the throne.”

Akeylah glanced over her shoulder at the captain. “I have a

plan.” Then Akeylah raised her voice. “Please help my sister.
She’s twisted her ankle.”

The captain grabbed her arm and yanked Ren upright. “Get
up, traitor.”

Akeylah cleared her throat. “Innocent until proven guilty,

Captain. Escort Lady Florencia to her chambers and place a
guard on her door—for her safety as much as ours. I will
send word when Father is ready to see her.”

As she strode away from her sister, Ren felt the heir’s chains
close around her, as tangible as physical shackles. Two
sisters down. Only one to go.

8
Akeylah

I need your help doing something irresponsible,” Akeylah

greeted Rozalind the second the queen’s chamber doors
shut behind her. In her arms, she carried a pile of clothing
she’d just pilfered from her father’s suite.

“My favorite.” Rozalind smiled, but it faded at Akeylah’s

serious look.

“What is it?”

Akeylah tossed the clothing on the bed and launched into

the story. Lexana’s accusations, the chants to arrest Ren.
The evidence, such as it was, of Ren’s crime. Rozalind
listened in silence, although her eyebrows rose higher with
every new detail.

Akeylah understood. Burnt Bay. She knew Ren’s crime must

have been serious, but…

Still. Akeylah had seen the papers Rueno held. She’d

recognized the handwriting. How much of what Rueno said
was true, and how much had been fabricated by the heir?

“Now Rueno is demanding to hear Ren’s sentence from

Father himself.”

Akeylah held up a narrow waistcoat and matching silk

trousers. “Do you think this would fit me?”

Rozalind dropped onto the bed. “Well. People had to

discover your father’s condition eventually. I know you’d
hoped for more time to prepare, but—what are you doing?”

Akeylah had stepped into the silk trousers and begun to tug
them up under her skirt. “If Rueno has his way, he’ll get the
court to sentence Ren to death. She doesn’t stand a chance.
Not for a crime like this.” Akeylah secured the trousers and
peeked to check the scar on her thigh. Good. The glow
didn’t show through

the dark silk.

“Burnt Bay was a horrible atrocity, Akeylah. Aiding rebels in

committing it… You said Florencia asked you to distance
yourself from her. Perhaps you should listen.” Rozalind’s
voice faltered as Akeylah pulled her shift dress over her
head.

Only then did Akeylah realize, face flushing, that she wore
no slip beneath.

She turned around to fasten her father’s waistcoat. It was

too big in the shoulders and pinched tight at the waist. Still,
it fit well enough to pass a distant inspection.

“None of this explains why you’re dressing in Andros’s

clothes,” Rozalind pointed out.

“Just a test run. This is where the irresponsible part comes

in.” Akeylah took a deep breath and met Rozalind’s gaze in
the mirror. “I’m going to use a camouflage tithe.”

Rozalind’s eyes shot wide. “Akeylah, no.”

“It’ll only last a couple of minutes, so I need you to act as

go-between. We’ll arrange it for tomorrow morning, first
thing.” By then, her daily shield tithe would have worn off. It
would be a risk—she’d be open to the heir’s attacks until
she was able to shield herself again. But saving Ren was
worth it.
“You can meet Rueno and the Talon captain in the sitting
room,” Akeylah said to Rozalind. “Tell them I—I mean, the
king—has a terrible flu. Then you escort them in, and I’ll
whisper my instructions. We can say I lost my voice, too,
because if they hear me speak they’ll figure me out in a
second,” she muttered, more to herself than to Rozalind.

“This is madness.”

“It’s our only option.” Akeylah strode toward the queen.

Rozalind rose to meet her. “You’re putting yourself in danger

for a wanted criminal, Akeylah. What if the tithe wears off
too soon? If you’re caught doing this…”

Akeylah captured Rozalind’s hands. Held them to her chest.

“If I don’t try, how can I live with myself?” She held the
queen’s gaze. “She’s my sister, Roz.”

“Your sisters are proving bigger liabilities by the day. What if

Ren is guilty, just like Zofi may be? Think about all the
soldiers who died in Burnt Bay. And think about Kolonya—
without Zofi or Florencia as options, you’re the only heir.

The only leader left. You can’t make yourself into a criminal
just like your siblings.”

I already am. Akeylah bit back the retort. She understood

where Rozalind was coming from. First Zofi was accused of
murder, now this?

Growing up on the shore, Akeylah had seen ships sink. She

could imagine what Burnt Bay must have looked like after
that attack. If Ren really did supply the rebellion with battle
plans, then her sister had blood on her hands. A lot of it.
But Akeylah understood how that felt. No executioner’s
noose could strangle you tighter than guilt.

No hangman could bring those soldiers back from their

graves either.

“We’ve all done things we regret,” Akeylah whispered. “Me

more than anyone.”

“I cannot believe that.” Rozalind dropped Akeylah’s hands to

cross her arms instead.

Akeylah hesitated. Studied the queen’s expression. She

might lose Rozalind once and for all if she told her this.
Rozalind may hate her, may never look at her the same way
again. But Rozalind believed Akeylah was innocent. That
wasn’t true.

Akeylah couldn’t let her sisters take this fall. If Ren went
down for her crimes, Akeylah would be next.

“I’m the reason my father is dying, Rozalind.” She said it

louder than she meant—too loud. She checked over her
shoulder, but the doors were still shut, no sounds of life
beyond.

The queen shook her head. “You mustn’t blame yourself,

Akeylah. Your father is ill—”

“No, he isn’t. He’s cursed. I cursed him. ” It was easier to

say this time. Ever since telling her sisters the truth. “Look.”
She yanked on the trousers she’d donned. Drew them down
far enough to reveal the bright, damning blue scar on her
thigh.

The reason she’d never gone further than kisses with

Rozalind. The reason she’d hidden from the maids ever
since she arrived in the Keep. The reason she couldn’t let
Ren swing for her crime. Not when Akeylah had done
something just as terrible, perhaps more so.

The queen’s lips parted. She stared at the scar. Took a step
backward.

Akeylah’s heart wrenched. Now I lose her, too.

“Why?” Rozalind finally managed, the word barely a breath.

“I didn’t know who I was.” Akeylah retied the trousers

around her waist.

“My stepfather beat me, almost killed me more than once. I

thought it was him I was cursing.”

For a moment, Rozalind shut her eyes and inhaled sharply.

When she opened them again, her expression seemed
carefully controlled, almost blank. “So it

was… an accident.”

“A terrible one.” Akeylah’s hands shook. She curled them

around her father’s shirtsleeves. “One I’ve tried to set right.
I’ve looked everywhere for some way to reverse it—”

Understanding bloomed across Rozalind’s face. “Your time in

the library. The healing tithes you’re always researching.”
The queen swore under her breath.

“All this time I thought you were looking for a cure the
menders missed.”

“I didn’t know where else to turn.” Akeylah dared a step

forward. “Rozalind, please believe me, I never meant for any
of this to happen.”

Rozalind spun away. Stared at the narrow passage that

connected her rooms to Andros’s. “Is this what you’re being
threatened over?”

Akeylah shut her eyes. “Someone else knows my secret, as

well as what my sisters are hiding. We thought it was
Yasmin. That’s why we asked for your help with that
acolyte’s body.…”

“Gods, Akeylah.”

“I understand if you hate me now,” Akeylah murmured. “I

would. If it were my husband.” Her voice barely cracked on
the word. She was getting better at saying it.

When she opened her eyes again, pain twisted across

Rozalind’s face. But she moved closer again. Approached
until she stood just inches from Akeylah. Close enough that
Akeylah caught her familiar, ocean-sweet scent. The
queen’s breath grazed her lips.

She didn’t say anything. Only searched Akeylah’s eyes.

Rozalind must despise her now. Rozalind, the dutiful queen,

the obedient daughter who sailed across the sea and wed a
stranger to forge peace. She might sneak around with
Akeylah, but only because her husband had given his
blessing to extramarital affairs.

What did Rozalind know of secrets? Of the crushing weight

of guilt Akeylah carried?

Yet. “I could never hate you,” Rozalind said in a voice like

the ghost of a whisper. She reached up, agonizingly slow,
and caught one of Akeylah’s plaits.

Brushed it off Akeylah’s shoulder, her fingertips grazing

Akeylah’s collarbone.

“No matter what you’ve done, Akeylah, I know you. You’re a

good person.”

“How can you say that? After what I just told you…”
“You told me it was an accident.” Rozalind traced up
Akeylah’s neck.

Cupped her cheek. “You told me you’ve been trying to fix it.
What is there to hate in that?”

“I cursed someone, Rozalind, my own father—” But she

broke off.

Because Rozalind leaned in and kissed her.

The protests melted away. Akeylah caught Rozalind’s

cheeks, drew her closer, and Rozalind’s hands went to
Akeylah’s waist to untie the trousers once more. They
puddled at Akeylah’s feet, and she stepped forward, into
Rozalind’s arms.

She had nothing to hide anymore.

They’d have to prepare soon. Go into Andros’s chambers

and move the king somewhere safe, set up a reception area,
practice what Akeylah needed to tell Rueno. But they had all
night for that. So when Rozalind wrapped her arms around
Akeylah’s waist and walked her backward, toward the bed,
Akeylah moved with her.

Right now, Rozalind was all she could see.

Thank the seas for Rozalind’s ability to tithe. Akeylah

doubted they could have managed the next morning if
Rozalind hadn’t been able to lift Andros all by herself and
carry him into the adjoining rooms. As her tithe faded,
Rozalind tucked the king into her bed, while Akeylah
rearranged the king’s reception wing.
They were interrupted briefly when Zofi’s Talon friend Vidal
stopped by. He begged permission to ride after Zofi, to
escort her safely to her band. Akeylah granted it gladly,
though she did so with the door half-shut, praying Vidal
didn’t notice anything amiss inside.

Now, tucked into her father’s bed, wearing his clothing, with
a bloodletter hidden underneath the sheets, Akeylah
wondered if this truly was the right course of action.
Rozalind had ordered the king’s mender not to speak about
Andros’s illness until the royal family announced it. But
Akeylah knew from experience how long secrets lasted in
this Keep—less time than it took milk to turn. What if the
mender had told someone about the king’s condition
already?

Or what if said mender heard about the king holding an

audience with Rueno and the captain, and asked how they’d
received orders from a comatose man?

On top of all those worries, not to mention the fear of what

would happen if the tithe faded too soon, Akeylah felt all too
aware of her vulnerability. She’d foregone the shield tithe
today. It left her senses brighter, sharper… but uneasy, too.
Like stepping outside on a rainy morning back east—the
fresh air was nice,

yet a chill accompanied it.

In the adjoining sitting room, she heard Rozalind’s voice.

“Lord Rueno, Captain, thank you for coming so quickly.”

Too late to change my mind.

Akeylah turned the bloodletter so the point jutted into the

crook of her elbow.
Rozalind spoke in a low, urgent tone, relaying what Akeylah
had asked— the king is not well, he’s lost his voice, this
conversation must be brief.

She drowned out the queen’s voice. Focused on her father

instead. His facial features, the silver of his hair, the
thickness of his neck.

She could only approximate him—camouflage tithes

couldn’t disguise your height or body build. But the bedding
piled around her would help. She just needed to perfect his
face.

The doorknob rattled. Rozalind. Here goes nothing.

Akeylah dragged the blade across her skin. The tithe swept
over her. The Arts sang in her veins, neon-bright with
promise. They felt stronger after several days of shielding,
almost overwhelming. She harnessed all the potential and
channeled it into a mental image of Father.

Father, lying in this very bed. Father, breathing weak and

labored, skin wrinkled with age. The same man she’d spent
the morning gazing at, willing back to some semblance of
life.

In the end, the tithe was easier than she’d anticipated.

Father already occupied so much of her imagination, it took
little effort to shape her facial features into his.

When she opened her eyes, Rueno and the Talon captain
regarded her seriously. Behind them, luckily out of their line
of sight, Rozalind had frozen in shock. Akeylah hoped that
was because she’d done too good a job with this
camouflage and not the other way around.
She began to cough, hard. With one hand, she reached
limply for Rozalind, who recalled herself and darted across
the chamber to catch it.

“Yes, my love, I’m here.” Rozalind bent close enough for

Akeylah’s—or, rather, the king’s—lips to graze her ear.

Akeylah kept her voice low, half-growl, half-whisper. “Tell

them… I have decided what to do about Florencia.”

Rozalind relayed her words, then turned back to Akeylah.

“Your Majesty, we are deeply sorry for all your woes of late.”
Lord Rueno bowed. “I’m grateful you take this matter as
seriously as we do. The court is anxious to see justice
served.”

“As am I,” said Akeylah-via-Rozalind. “But exactly that.

Justice. ” She laid on that word hard enough to justify
another series of coughs. “Not the judgment of an angry
mob.”

Lord Rueno and the captain exchanged glances when

Rozalind repeated those words.

“Captain, you are to confine Lady Florencia to her chambers.

Post double guards on every entrance, the servants’
passages included.” Akeylah knew they had to at least make
it look like they were trying. “As for the evidence against
her, Lord Rueno, you will give me these letters and any
other evidence you have collected.”

“Of course.” Rueno bowed. “But, Your Majesty, the serving

boy—”

“Once I have familiarized myself with the letters and their

contents, I will hear Josen’s testimony,” Akeylah continued.
Then, on an impulse, she bluffed, “I will also hear from other
witnesses who may wish to speak to me in private.”

That should buy them a little more time. “Only once I have
heard from every voice in this case will I pass my
judgment.”

“Your Majesty, if I may…” Rueno stepped forward. “I

understand your desire to hear all the facts. But this was a
very serious breach, if the allegations prove true. Do you
think confinement to her chambers will really be sufficient
to secure such a traitor?”

“You tell me, Captain.” Akeylah’s voice dripped with

sarcasm, through Rozalind, as she looked at the Talon. “Are
our Talons trained enough to secure a single young
woman?”

The captain’s mouth twitched at the corners. “I believe we

can handle it, Your Majesty.”

Rueno ducked his head. He may be stubborn, but he knew

when to hold his tongue, too.

“Now, you have heard my decision.” Akeylah glanced at

Rozalind. She didn’t have much time left. The tithe ached.
Made her want to crawl out of her skin. “Captain, see it
done.”

Then she sank into her loudest coughing fit yet. Underneath
the thick blankets, her fingertips tingled. She clenched her
teeth as the tingle became an itch became a burn.

“I’m afraid I need to ask you two to leave now.” Rozalind

placed a firm hand on both men’s shoulders. “If you see the
mender on your way out, send her in, please.”
“Roz… alind,” Akeylah growled. Get them out of here, she
thought,

desperate.

At a glance in her direction, Rozalind reached for the

curtains around the bed and casually flicked them shut, far
enough to obscure Akeylah from view.

Everything burned. Almost as bad as a Vulgar Arts curse.

She could feel her face start to split, like a sunburn peeling
open, as it began to change back. She flung a hand across it
and moaned in agony. She wished she had as much practice
at tithing as Zofi. Her sister would likely be able to hold this
tithe longer than she was managing.

“Is he quite all right?” Lord Rueno hesitated on the

threshold.

“He will be,” Rozalind promised. “You have your orders,

gentlemen. Thank you for coming by.” With that, she
slammed the bedroom door and collapsed against it.

With a final burst of itching, followed by a sensation like

plunging her entire body into a cool bath, Akeylah’s face
returned to its normal shape. She levered herself up on one
elbow to peer around the curtain. Rozalind held her ear to
the keyhole.

Only once the sounds on the far side faded did the queen let
out a sigh of relief. “That was too close.” She glared at
Akeylah.

“I know.” Akeylah flung back the covers and surged to her

feet. “But it worked.”
“You need to be more careful.” Rozalind stepped toward her,
expression serious. “You take all these risks to protect
others. What about protecting yourself?”

“I protect myself.” Even as she said it, she recognized the

irony of the statement. In posing as Andros, she’d left
herself vulnerable to the heir. From the depleted scratch in
her veins, it’d be a few hours yet until she’d have the
strength to shield herself again.

Rozalind reached her side. Akeylah’s skin burned with the

memory of the queen’s fingertips. All the places they’d
explored last night. “Not when it counts,” Rozalind
whispered.

Akeylah lifted a hand to cup the back of the queen’s neck.

Their foreheads touched, and she lost herself in the queen’s
sea-deep gaze. “I’m more worried about you,” Akeylah
murmured. “You’re a foreign queen, daughter of the country
we’ve been at war with for centuries. Have you thought
about what will happen if Father dies?”

“Of course I have. I’ve thought about that possibility every

single day since I arrived in the Reaches. Why do you think
I’m so worried about you?” Rozalind

grazed her thumb along Akeylah’s jawline. “You’re almost as

foreign as I am here, Akeylah. You may be half-Kolonyan, but
that’s not the half people will see if they learn what you’ve
done. You need to be smarter. Take care of yourself above
all others, even your family.”

Akeylah closed her eyes. Savored the queen’s touch, her

scent. “I can’t do that. I have to take care of the people I
love, too, or I’d never forgive myself.”
“People you love.” Rozalind’s whisper set her veins alight.
“Where am I on that scale?”

The corners of Akeylah’s lips curved upward. “Somewhere

near the top,” she admitted in a barely there breath.

“Let’s make a deal, then, love.” Rozalind tilted her head.

Akeylah mirrored her until their lips were a hair apart, so
close she felt the warmth radiating from the queen’s skin. “I
protect you, first and foremost.” Rozalind’s mouth brushed
Akeylah’s as she spoke. “And you protect me. That way we’ll
both be safe.”

Akeylah smiled, wider now. “Deal.”

Zofi

Two days. Two days, and still Zofi had yet to find anyone on
this gods-forsaken road willing to sell a horse to a Traveler.

Despite her trustworthy boots, which her sisters had

thankfully squirreled away in the supply bag they’d brought
her, her feet throbbed. She’d made as much progress as
possible—walked over a dozen leagues per day. By the end
of the first day, she’d left behind the busy merchant stalls,
which only stretched about forty miles north of Kolonya City.
By the end of the second, she found herself passing dozens
of small roads, footpaths to the outer settlements dotting
Kolonya proper. Each one nestled into village-sized clearings
in the Ageless Jungle.
Late on the second evening, a thunderstorm struck, and she
gave up trying to sleep in the muddy patches under the
trees. Instead, she dug into the supply of coins her sisters
had added to the rucksack. It was enough to pay for room
and board in the next village she found.

The town, Vinesland, had been named for the houses woven
into the tree canopy with vines, the floors and walls and
roofs all stitched together like a giant bark-and-leaf quilt.
Her room was a five-by-five-by-five-foot square, which she
climbed into via a rope ladder as high in the trees as Ilian
Keep towered above Kolonya City. For once, as she stretched
along the floor, she was grateful for her short stature. Ren
would have to bend near in half to fit in this bed.

The proprietor of the inn swung past—literally, as the paths

among these treetop homes were just hanging vines. He left
a bucket of fresh water, another bucket of hearty stew, and
a curt note. Please leave by first light, it read in clumsy
block letters. Don’t want other lodgers to see you. Sure you
understand.

Sands forbid any respectable lodgers see a Traveler sleeping

in the same establishment. That would be bad for business.

Zofi tore up the note. It left a bad taste in her mouth, even
though the stew was delicious, heavily spiced with an extra
portion of meat. That was all money could buy you. Food, a
roof over your head, fresh water.

Not respect. Not equal treatment.

She’d left her chance at winning that behind in Kolonya. And

unless Zofi found her mother in time, unless Mother knew a
cure for the curse she’d helped Akeylah work, Father would
die. His blood would be on Akeylah’s hands, a secret the
heir wouldn’t hesitate to use against her Eastern sister.
How long before they all fell? Before Akeylah and Ren were
banished, too.

Or worse, if the heir had their way. Zofi could only imagine
what sort of a twisted tyrant this “true heir” would make.

Then again, from the outside, people might say the same
about her. Or Akeylah. Zofi had murdered her own brother—
never mind that he’d been a terrible person. Akeylah had
cursed her father—never mind that she didn’t know who she
was or that she’d been desperately trying to escape abuse.

If Andros had been honest with his children from the start, if
Zofi had known Nicolen was her brother, if Akeylah knew her
true parentage… none of them would be in this situation.

Then again, Zofi might never have grown up the way she
did. She may never have known the freedom of a Traveler
band, might not understand the world the way she did now,
from the bottom-side up.

Much as she hated the straits they were in, Zofi couldn’t
bring herself to wish things any different. She loved her
mother, her people, the life she’d had.

The only thing she regretted was letting the heir threaten it
all.

The next morning, Zofi followed the proprietor’s request.

She departed well before dawn, her waterskin freshly filled
and her belly full of cold leftover stew.

On her way back to the merchant’s road, however, Zofi

flashed her curse finger at Vinesland in general.

She had to stay focused. Find her mother, learn what in

sands’ name kind of curse she’d taught Akeylah. Send
Akeylah the cure as fast as possible. Only then did they
stand a chance. With Andros healthy and restored to
himself, her sisters might be able to buy more time. Fend off
the heir.

If they couldn’t win the throne themselves, then at least

they might be able to stop it from falling into the worst
possible hands.

Back on the merchant’s road, for the first time in weeks,

Zofi prayed. She

prayed to the sands to keep her sisters strong. She prayed

her own journey would grow easier soon. She’d already
been on the road three days. Without a horse, she’d need a
miracle to reach Mother’s camp before Andros’s time ran
out.

Sands guide me to my mother swiftly. Let me find Father a

cure.

And let Mother explain why she never told me she was a
bloody curseworker.

Zofi always knew her mother had secrets. It was a game

they played, when she was little. “How many secrets are
you keeping?” Zofi would always ask.

And Mother would smile, her silver scar flashing under the
moons. “As many as there are grains of sand in the desert.”

After learning she was the daughter of a king, Zofi supposed

she shouldn’t put anything past her mother. But his status
aside, hiding a father was not unusual. Unless a baby was
fathered by another Traveler in the same band, the usual
custom was to conceal his identity.
But selling cursework at underground festivals to
strangers… How did Mother get into the Vulgar Arts in the
first place? Who taught it to her, and why?

Perhaps Mother had been like Akeylah. Desperate, in need

of a way to strike back at a relative who abused their bond.
How much did Zofi really know about Mother’s past?

Her past, come to think of it. Anyone Mother might have

learned to curse would be a relative of Zofi’s, too.

Her head throbbed. Too many possibilities. She couldn’t

contemplate them all.

Hooves thundered on the road behind her. Zofi stood to the

side, half-concealed in the underbrush, until a pair of
merchants rode past, trailing a rattling wagon. She waited
until they faded from sight ahead before she began to walk
again.

A Traveler walking alone could never be too careful.

Morning songbirds began to whistle. Monkeys chattered in

the branches.

Every now and then, one would swing into her view upside-
down and peer at her while she walked, checking whether
she had any food to steal. Zofi waved her empty hands, and
the monkeys bared their teeth in disappointment, swung
back into the trees.

My mother is a curseworker.

Mother, who spent hours telling stories around the

communal fires at night—
sweeping sagas about the First Six or Traveler Queen Claera,
or even personal tales of towns where she’d negotiated her
way out of tight corners. Duels she’d won and damsels
she’d rescued.

The same mother who let Zofi sleep in her tent for weeks
after the Silver Prince’s death.

Zofi shouldn’t be surprised. If anyone in the Reaches would

have forbidden knowledge about the Vulgar Arts, of course
it would be Deena. But why had Mother offered that
knowledge to an outsider? She taught Akeylah how to work
a Vulgar Arts curse strong enough to fell a king, but she
never shared the knowledge with her own band.

That went against every bone in Zofi’s body. Your band was
your family—

they shared everything. Food, money, weapons, any

advantage they managed to grasp in a world set against
them. Yet Mother hid this enormous capability.

Hooves sounded again, louder. This time, Zofi didn’t bother

to move off the road. Dawn had already lit the sky, and
there were gaggles of other passersby here and there. She
felt safe enough not to hide in the bushes.

The hoofbeats slowed.

Zofi’s shoulders tensed. Had she made a mistake? Her hand

drifted to her longknife. She glanced back, expecting
trouble, and froze.

“Zofi?”

Behind her stood an enormous stallion. Eighteen hands

high, his pelt bright silver, he snorted in greeting. Next to
him paced a familiar chestnut mare, a grinning boy in a
Talon’s leather vest on her back.

Despite herself, an answering smile split Zofi’s cheeks.

“What in sands’ name are you doing out here?”

“Looking for you.” Vidal dismounted in a cloud of dust. “I

can’t believe you walked this far already. I doubled back
twice, thinking I must have ridden past you.”

She shot her eyes skyward. “Have you no faith?”

Then his arms were around her, and Zofi sank into them,
more grateful than she cared to admit for the familiar
embrace. “My mistake,” he murmured into the nest her hair
had become after three days’ hard journey without a scarf
to tie it back. “Next time I’ll take into account the fact that
you walk as fast as a horse yourself.”

She snorted, the sound muffled by his leather tunic. “Not

nearly.” Then she tilted her chin back to assess him. Aside
from a faint sheen of sweat on his brow, he looked good.

Better than good. He looked as handsome as he had the

night of the Sun’s Ascendance when, dressed in full uniform,
he’d swept her across the sky gardens in a flawless dance.
She hadn’t been this close to him since. Hadn’t been able to

wrap her arms around his waist or feel his chest rise and fall
against hers. Or to watch his lips part, trace the edges of
them and wonder how they would feel pressed to hers, the
way they’d almost done that night…

“Did the king send you?” she asked, tearing herself from his
arms. The last thing she needed was to get distracted—or
dragged back into the king’s dungeons. Not now, when she
was so close to home. Back where I belong, she reminded
herself. Back with my band.

“Nobody sent me,” Vidal replied, too quick. The tension in

his tone made her suspicious.

“You’re a Talon. You have to follow orders.”

“I… requested new orders.”

She frowned. “And your leader allowed that?”

He bowed his head. “Our leader is dead.”

Of course. Yasmin had led the Talons. With her dead and
Andros incapacitated… “But your other commanders. Your
captain, or whoever is in charge now…”

“I went over his head. Appealed to the source of power, so

to speak.”

Her eyebrows rose. Last her sisters told her, that source lay
comatose in bed.

“My father?” she ventured, careful. She wasn’t sure whether

word of his condition had spread throughout the Keep yet.

The corners of Vidal’s lips quirked. “Not quite. But Queen

Rozalind and your sister Akeylah were happy to grant me
leave to accompany you. They both agreed our army won’t
miss one Talon for a few days.”

Zofi reached up to touch the silver sand-stepper’s nose, and

he huffed out an excited breath, then stamped his hooves.

Vidal, for his part, watched with concern. “Your sister was
worried about you. A Traveler alone on Kolonyan roads…”
“I can take care of myself,” Zofi replied. “I’ve spent my
entire life on the roads, I might add, and my entire life being
a Traveler, too.” She thought angrily about the innkeeper
who asked her to leave. The traders she’d attempted to
barter with, who had refused to sell her even a wizened old
nag of a pony. That last thought, at least, softened her. “I’m
grateful for the horse.” Zofi reached up to pat his flanks.
“But you can’t come with me, Vidal. I’m not riding into my
band’s camp with a Talon in tow.”

“At least let me escort you to the camp itself. If I can’t come
in with you, then I’ll return to Kolonya City alone afterward.”

“I’ll stand out like a stubbed thumb with you riding next to
me.”

“I can take off the uniform.” Without another word, he

tugged on his vest stays. It fell open, and she had to tear
her gaze away from his bare chest. “I have another shirt in
my saddlebag,” he added, and she could’ve sworn she
heard a smirk in that tone.

It made her want to kick him. “I don’t need an escort.” She

set her jaw, stubborn. When she finally turned to look at him
again, he’d thrown on a simple cotton shirt. But she could
still see the sharp outline of his muscles beneath it, and try
though she might, she couldn’t make herself dislike the
view.

“Then I won’t serve as your escort.” He smiled, too damned

winning for his own good. “I’ll simply join you as a friend.”

She didn’t deign to answer that. Without another word, she

swung up into the stallion’s saddle. Then she wrapped her
hands in his mane, leaned down along his neck, and kicked
him into motion. Wind whipping through her hair, Zofi
smiled—her first real smile in what felt like a lifetime.
And sure enough, when she stole a glance over her
shoulder, there was Vidal riding hard after her, a matching
grin painted across his face.

Right then and there, she made a silent decision. If he can

keep up, I’ll let him stay.

10

Florencia

Five days since the mender told them Father had a fortnight
to live. Two since she’d been confined to her chambers,
pending Andros’s judgment about her actions.

About the treason I committed.

Last night, unable to sleep, Ren had curled up on the floor

beside the thin wooden servants’ door and listened to the
guards posted outside her chamber gossip while they
played crowns, an old dice game.

“Confinement. That’s all for now.”

“Why such a light sentence? If she really did it…”

“We don’t know that,” the first Talon, a woman, scolded.

“Stop believing every whisper you hear passing through the
halls.”

Ren couldn’t help it. A faint smile touched her mouth.

But then the woman continued speaking. “First His Majesty’s
health, now this.”

“That’s not a rumor—everyone knows he’s been bedridden

since the countess’s funeral,” the male Talon retorted.

“With grief. Not some deadly virus. Or, what did Niven claim
it was?

Poison? ” Even through the closed door, Ren could

practically hear the woman roll her eyes.

“I never said I believed Niven. But you have to admit, it’s

strange. He arrests one daughter, banishes her without
even publicly stating her crime. Now another is accused of
treason. And not a peep from our king?”

“Our king has better things to do than reassure a grunt like

you.” The woman laughed under her breath. “Besides,
Captain Lindle received the order to confine

the girl from Andros himself. The king was well enough for
that.”

Ren frowned. That couldn’t be right. They must be confused.

Unless her father’s health had improved. Could Zofi have
found a cure for the curse already?

Ren squinted at the flicker of the torchlight under the door

as the Talons shifted topics. For a while, they talked about
girls, then complained about their commanding officer.
Finally, Ren levered herself up off the floor and retreated to
bed, where she stared at her canopy instead.

At some point, she must have drifted off, because she

awoke to a series of knocks.
“My lady, a visitor,” called the Talon outside the main
entrance.

“One moment,” she cried, and did her best to put on a

presentable outfit. She might be a prisoner in her own
bedroom, but that didn’t mean she needed to look the part.

Finally, when she was satisfied with the girl in the mirror,
chin-length hair hot-combed into obedience and a few
daubs of paint to cover the worst of her sleepless night’s
damage, she threw on an ornate robe and sat at her writing
desk to give the illusion of productivity.

“Send them in.” She expected her sister, or perhaps

Rozalind, come to relay news of Andros. Maybe even Andros
himself, if the Talons’ whispers were to be believed.

But when the doors opened, she slumped in her chair. “Oh,
it’s you.”

Danton pushed back his hood and shut the door before he
responded. “You always know how to make a man feel
special, Florencia.”

“I do when he is.” She leaned her chair back onto two legs
and studied the ambassador. The morning sun painted deep
hollows under his cheeks, and in profile, his nose looked
sharper, fiercer. “You shouldn’t be here. Haven’t you heard
what I’ve been accused of doing? Aiding rebels within the
Reach you represent.”

“All the more reason for me to meet with you and glean any
information I can about said rebel correspondents. At least,
that’s the reason I’ve given the council.” His face clouded.
“Florencia, seeing you locked in here, hearing the rumors…
I’m afraid for you. If this goes to trial.…” His voice cracked.
“I can’t lose you.”
He meant it. She knew him that well. Recognized the pain
and fear in his expression.

But it didn’t change what he’d done. She still remembered

how it felt at the

Sun’s Ascendance when Lexana slipped her arm through his

and called him her fiancé. Just two days after Danton had
lain in Ren’s bed all night, his lips tracing a familiar path
across her body.

“I’m sure your fiancée would soothe away your pain,” she
replied, unable to keep the bitterness from her tone.

Danton moved closer. “Florencia, I’ve been trying to catch

you alone since the Sun’s Ascendance, to tell you the truth.
Lexana and I, it’s a sham.”

She had to laugh. “Why, because she’s cheating on you, or

because you never cared for her in the first place? The latter
I could’ve guessed. You’ve never truly cared for anyone but
yourself, Danton.”

He flinched. Ran a hand through his dark auburn hair.

“Lexana needed a cover story. She’s in love with a
commoner, a servant boy her father would never approve
of. She asked me to pretend to marry her, in exchange for
her father’s dowry. It would’ve been more than enough
money to supply Tarik with food, medicine, everything we
needed to survive this year.”

Tarik. Always Tarik. “Enough to help your rebels build better

weaponry, too?” Ren asked, tone scathing.

“Absolutely not.” His hand dropped back to his side,

clenched. “I’m never helping them again—not after.…”
Not after the reason I’m locked up in here, she thought
angrily. Not after the rebels took the plans Danton and Ren
stole for them, and used those plans to kill thousands of
Kolonyans.

“Every last coin was going to go toward rebuilding our

country. It would’ve created an alliance between the
Northern Reach and Tarik, given Tarik a fresh start.”

“Would have. Past tense? What disturbed your plans?” She

crossed her arms.

“Me.” He locked eyes with her. “I’m going to confess.”

It took a moment for her to understand. When she did, she

scrambled to her feet. “Danton, no.”

“It’s the only way, Florencia. They’ll kill you for this. You
know as well as I do that correspondence is fake. But Lexana
showed me the letters. They’re damned convincing;
whoever forged them used a real rebel seal, code words
only the rebellion uses. The only way to prove you’re
innocent is to show the council the real letters. The ones
addressed to me.”

“You’d be executed in a heartbeat. I’m still Andros’s

daughter; they’ll hesitate before hanging me. But you,
you’re an Easterner, no noble ties… You can’t.” She didn’t
remember moving toward him, reaching out. But suddenly
she

was clutching his hands to her chest, their faces inches

apart.

Danton searched her gaze. “I thought you hated me.”

“That doesn’t mean I want you to die.”

“I’ve brought you nothing but misery. You, the person I love
most in the world.” He said it so easily she forgot how long
it had been since she last heard him say I love you. It
seemed like yesterday. It always did when they stood like
this, so close she felt his breath on her cheeks, almost
tasted his lips on hers. She still craved him, even when she
hated herself for it.

Nobody kissed her like Danton.

“Let me do this for you,” Danton whispered. “Let me

shoulder this one burden for you when I’ve failed to carry so
many others.”

Only now, standing this close, did Ren notice the unkempt
bedraggle of his hair, the uncharacteristic stubble along his
jawline. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

“Danton.” Her voice cracked. “I don’t want you to die for

me. All I want is for you to trust me. To be honest with me.
Like with your engagement—you could have told me about
it, rather than letting Lexana blindside me with the news.”

“I wanted to, but Rueno demanded we keep it confidential

until the contract was finalized, and I didn’t realize Lexana
would…” He shut his mouth. “You’re right, I should have told
you. But it doesn’t matter now. What matters is that I do the
right thing. Clear your name.”

She shook her head. “Even if I let you, it wouldn’t make a

difference. The person who forged those letters? It’s me
they want to destroy. They’ll take you down, too, if you get
in their way, but your death would solve nothing. They’ll still
come for me. And without you, I’d just have one less ally,
one less person I trust to lean on.” Her voice softened.
He raised a hand, tentative. His thumb grazed her
cheekbone, a touch light as air, yet it reverberated through
her entire body. “Who’s doing this to you, Florencia?” His
brow furrowed, came to rest against her forehead. “When I
found that boy outside your chambers, the one with the
phial of blood… Do you think the same person sent him as
forged the letters?”

“I believe so.” Ren gritted her teeth. She’d almost forgotten

about that boy.

Just one more mystery in a stack growing far too tall for
comfort. What else was the heir capable of?

“They can’t have that much influence. Not unless they’re

royalty.” He smiled faintly, but sobered when she didn’t join
in.

“It’s someone related to me. That’s all I know.” She backed

away from Danton, all too aware that if she kept touching
him, she’d do something stupid.

“Well. That and they want the throne. They’ll stop at nothing
to remove my sisters and me from their path.”

Understanding dawned on his face. “Zofi.”

“They went for her first. Now it’s my turn.”

He frowned and watched her pace across the room. “But

nothing has happened to Akeylah?”

“Not yet.”

Danton looked pensive. “So it’s a relative of yours in line for

the throne.…”
“It’s not Akeylah.” Her sister had helped her research
Yasmin. Who turned out to be innocent. She’d rescued Ren
from the baths. Or did she just know when to arrive because
she’d cursed Ren in the first place? “She’s being threatened,
too. It just hasn’t been made public yet.”

“I see.” Danton arched a brow. “And you’ve seen these

threats yourself.”

Rozalind had seen Akeylah have a fit in the library. And Ren
had seen one of Akeylah’s blackmail letters, back when Ren
and Zofi first confronted Akeylah about being their enemy.
But what did that prove? Akeylah could have faked a fit for
Rozalind, could have penned the letter she showed Ren and
Zofi herself.

“I trust Akeylah,” she heard herself say. But she couldn’t

help thinking of Akeylah’s secret. The curse she worked
against Andros. She said it was an accident, but that
accident brought the sisters here, to Kolonya. If Andros
hadn’t fallen ill, he would never have summoned his
illegitimate daughters, never have offered them a chance at
the throne…

Plus, the curse meant Akeylah knew how to use the Vulgar
Arts. If she’d been willing to curse her own father, what
would stop her from cursing a sister or two?

Danton was nodding. “Of course. But just to be on the safe

side, why don’t I ask around about her? The forger had seals
from the rebels, knew code words they use. Perhaps Akeylah
has met some of my contacts before.” When Ren still
hesitated, Danton pressed a hand to his chest. “Please,
Florencia. If you won’t let me trade my life for yours, at least
let me do this.”
“You know I still hate you, right?” But she said it with a
smile.

He grinned. “I can live with that.” He turned to go, then

hesitated on the threshold. “Hatred is not the opposite of
love, Florencia. To hate a person, you must still care about
them.”

“You said it, not me.” But in spite of everything, her smile
lingered long after

he’d gone.

11

Akeylah

The first day of Ren’s confinement to her chambers, Akeylah

woke up and shielded herself immediately. Only after the
half-smothering, half-calming sensation stripped away her
connection to the Arts did she agree to meet the council of
lords.

The council was a gathering of the highest-ranking nobility

from Kolonya and beyond. Lord Rueno was an absolute boor
the entire time. He complained of her father’s absence at
every turn, questioned every word she said. Akeylah was
forced to remind him, rather more sharply than she liked,
just how much her family had been through in recent weeks.
After the meeting, lord after lady crowded her schedule all
evening, until Akeylah could hardly squeeze in a moment to
slip to the powder room, let alone breathe.

The second day, she woke, shielded herself again, and spent
the morning hearing complaints about property tax laws,
land feuds, all the endless petty wars nobles waged against
one another.

All the while, Ren’s words echoed in the back of her mind.
Every day, we remind each another what matters.

She wished she could slip away and visit her sister. But
every time she tried, another urgent request arose.

In lieu of visiting, at the end of each of her endless

meetings, Akeylah eased into the topic of her sister. By the
time she was through with her appointments, she had talked
at least a few nobles into a fury over “Lady Florencia’s
undeserved public slandering.”

“After all,” Akeylah found herself repeating, over and over,

“we haven’t even

begun a proper trial, yet she’s already being condemned. Is

this any way to treat a king’s daughter?”

By the second evening, the muttering in the Great Hall

started to shift. Now, Akeylah overheard people who
variously supported or pitied her.

“I hear Eastern rebels forced Lexana to make it all up,” one

minor noblewoman said.

“Well, I heard that Traveler girl cursed her from afar. Lady
Florencia had no idea what she was doing when she sold us
out, poor dear.”
At that, Akeylah bristled, but when she turned to search out
the gossip, she couldn’t tell who among the sea of faces at
her table had spoken.

She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t buy one sister’s
innocence at the price of the other’s. But she could not
afford to correct every rumormonger in the Keep either.

The one good thing about her breakneck schedule was it left
her no time for worrying.

The third morning, instead of burying herself in the library to

hunt for countercurses the way she’d planned, Akeylah went
back to the royal chambers.

She had the regional council meeting later that afternoon,

but for now, she needed a respite. Between Father’s illness,
Ren’s confinement, and the political machinations… It was
too much. She needed to feel alive again.

She needed Rozalind.

Outside Father’s chambers, a Talon stopped her. “Delivery

came for your father while you were at breakfast, my lady,”
he said as he handed her a box swathed in black velvet.
“We checked the contents, to be safe. Just a wooden doll
and a letter.”

“I’ll take it to him, thank you.” She reached out to accept

the package.

Only once he’d laid it in her arms did the Talon add, “It’s
from your stepfather, I believe, my lady. Jahen dam-Senzin.
That was your old surname, no?”

Her blood went cold.

Would Jahen send her father a package? He hadn’t shown
his face in court since the day she arrived, and thank Mother
Ocean for that. What could he possibly have to say to the
king?

“Did you read the letter?” she asked. She couldn’t imagine
what it would be about. Unless… She thought about the
forged letters the heir created for Ren.

The last vision the heir cursed Akeylah with—her stepfather

towering over her, fists balled.

Unless this package isn’t from Jahen dam-Senzin at all.

The Talon, meanwhile, seemed affronted. “Of course not, my

lady. We don’t read His Majesty’s private correspondence.”

“Of course not.” She forced a smile. “Thank you.”

The Talon opened the door for her, and Akeylah caught her
breath until she spotted the curtain drawn around the bed,
hiding Father from view.

“Akeylah?” Rozalind’s voice drifted from behind said curtain.

“I’ll be right there,” Akeylah called as she beelined for the

bathing chamber attached to the king’s bedroom. Inside,
she dropped to her knees, the package cradled in both
arms, and peeled back the lid.

Her breath caught.

A wooden doll, the Talon had called it. But it was more than
that.

From its dark red plaits to its painted-glass eyes, even to the
style of gown it wore, a loose chiffon dress Akeylah could’ve
sworn must be cut from the same fabric as the outfit she
wore to the Sun’s Ascendance… In every detail, the doll was
an exact miniature of Akeylah.

Except for two differences. The golden crown on its head, a

replica of her father’s. And the puppet strings attached to
the doll’s arms, legs, and head.

A thought struck her. She raised the doll’s skirts. Sure

enough, on its thigh, the doll had a bright blue line inked
onto its wooden leg. A Vulgar Arts “scar” of its own.

Her heart raced as she laid the doll carefully back into its
nest. Beside it sat a letter. She recognized the handwriting
at once. His Majesty D’Daryn Andros.

She unfolded the letter with trembling fingers.

Dearest Akeylah,

I expect you’ve intercepted this letter. Naughty girl. It was

addressed to your father. But then, you clearly don’t mind
impersonating him, do you?

Her heart thudded.

I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve spared you so far. Don’t
worry. I haven’t forgotten you. One might even say you’re
my favorite.

But alas, little puppet, being the favorite comes with certain
responsibilities.

When I tell you to do something, you obey. Listen, and I’ll

protect you. Refuse, and, well… you’ve seen what I do to
those who are not in my favor.
Your first task is to put the traitor behind Burnt Bay on trial,
immediately.

Oh, and shield yourself all you like, puppet. But ignore me,
and I’ll make those you love suffer in your stead.

They’d signed the letter The True Heir to Kolonya and the
Outer Reaches. A

chill settled over Akeylah’s skin. Sank into her veins.

“Akeylah?” Rozalind knocked on the door. “Is everything all

right?”

“Is the mender still here?” Akeylah barely managed to keep

her voice from trembling.

“She just left. Do you need me to call her back?”

Akeylah unbolted the latch. Yanked the door open. Rozalind

took one glance at Akeylah’s stricken expression and caught
the letter before Akeylah could protest. Skimmed it. Then
Rozalind’s arms were around her, and thank Mother Ocean
for that, because Akeylah didn’t know if she could stand on
her own. She buried her face in the queen’s shoulder,
shaking.

“We’ll figure this out,” Rozalind whispered against her

temple.

“How? They want me to put my sister on trial. If she’s

convicted, treason is punishable by death.”

“If she’s convicted,” Rozalind replied. “There’s no way to

know how a trial would go until we hold one.”

Akeylah jerked from her grasp, stung.

“What’s the matter?” Rozalind’s brow creased.

“You agree with this monster?” She snatched the letter

back, shook it at Rozalind. “You think I should do it. Arrest
her, make a spectacle of her.”

“It’s Kolonyan law, Akeylah. If she’s innocent, a trial will

prove it.”

“And if she’s not?” Akeylah’s throat tightened with grief.

“Then the tribunal will deliver an appropriate punishment to

fit her crime.

Akeylah, I’m sorry, I know you care about your sister, but
she made her choices.

At the end of the day, Florencia has no one to blame except

herself. If she’s guilty,” Rozalind added quickly.

Akeylah stared at her in stunned disbelief. “You’re just like

all the other nobles. In your mind you’ve already
condemned her.”

“I never said that. But you must distance yourself from her,
Akeylah.

Sympathy toward a suffering sister is one thing—we can

explain it as familial pity, once you’re crowned—”

“Once I’m what?” Her eyebrows shot skyward.

“Collusion, however, is another thing,” Rozalind spoke over

her. “We cannot seem too close to Florencia, or people will
question your authority. ‘First one heir spies for Eastern
rebels, now an Easterner sits on our throne.’ ‘Can we really
trust anyone who isn’t Kolonyan?’ You can’t afford those
kinds of questions so early in your reign.”

Akeylah stormed across the room. “Crowned. Reign. You

seem to think this a

foregone conclusion, Rozalind. But there’s still this

blackmailer to contend with, even if my sisters are
denounced. And have you given up on your husband
already?”

“Already?” Rozalind flung her arms up. “The mender told us

he’d live a week, two at most. That was six days ago.”

“Zofi’s looking for a cure—”

“A cure you’ve been seeking for over a month now, with no

progress. When will you learn that you need to plan more
than one step ahead in this game?”

Akeylah folded her arms. “My father’s life, my sisters’

reputations, those are games?”

“To someone in this Keep, they are. I’ve been here for a year
and a half, Akeylah. You think the past, what, month since
you arrived has been difficult?

This court changes you in ways you haven’t even begun to

comprehend. You learn how to hit first in order to survive.
You can’t…” She pressed a hand to her stomach. Shut her
eyes, as though in pain.

Akeylah started toward her, but Rozalind flinched away.

“Roz…”
“Don’t. I’m trying to keep my promise to you, Akeylah.”
When Rozalind met her gaze once more, she looked hard.
Furious. “I’m trying to protect you. But I can’t save you from
yourself.” With that, Rozalind swept out of the room.

Akeylah stared, long after the door slammed. She should go

after her. Chase her down, make her talk.

Instead, all she could think about was the first argument
she’d had with Rozalind. Back when Zofi had been accused,
and Rozalind encouraged Akeylah not to release or pardon
her. Now she was doing the same to Ren, and talking as
though Akeylah were already queen.

Akeylah didn’t want this. She didn’t want a throne, a crown.

She just wanted the people she loved safe, once and for all.

The doorknob to the solarium turned. The gems set in the

knob reflected the sunlight overhead, sent a flurry of bright
snowflakes dancing across the map of the Reaches on the
central table.

Akeylah stared at those white sunspots and willed this

meeting to go quickly.

“My lady.” Ambassador Perry of the Southern Reach greeted

her.

“Ambassador Perry.” She smiled in welcome.

Ambassadors Ghoush, Danton, and Kiril filed in behind him.

“Is His Majesty

still indisposed?” asked Ambassador Ghoush, the pucker-

mouthed woman who represented the Northern Reach, the
moment she entered.
“I’m afraid he is not yet feeling well enough to leave his
chambers. But he sent me in his stead.” She gestured to a
scribe in the corner, furiously copying notes. “I will bring
him a transcript of everything we discuss, along with any
urgent queries that need to be resolved.”

She only hoped she wouldn’t need to impersonate him

again anytime soon.

“For a week now, we’ve been hearing these excuses.”

Ambassador Kiril of the Western Reach scowled. “I have
never known Andros to suffer this much from a mere cold or
flu.”

“We have our best mender attending him, Ambassador,”

Akeylah replied.

“Not that we don’t appreciate your being here, Lady

Akeylah.” Lord Perry inclined his head in her direction. “But
we hope your father recovers soon. We need him more than
ever.”

Akeylah folded her hands on the table. “We had best get
started, then. The first item on the agenda is the crop
shortage—”

“If you’ll forgive my impertinence, Lady Akeylah,” Kiril

butted in. “Before we move on to the set agenda, I had
hoped to discuss the matter of your sister Lady Florencia.”

“What about her?” Akeylah set her teeth on edge behind

her careful smile.

Ambassador Ghoush laughed. When Akeylah didn’t join, she

sobered. “Well, I think I speak for all of us when I say that
four days’ time seems more than sufficient for a cursory
review of the evidence. Is there enough to imprison the girl
or not? My people are in an uproar.”

“Mine as well.” Ambassador Perry grimaced. “Some have

gone so far as to call for her head, even in spite of her noble
birth. Ambassador Danton, I’m sure you understand, given
the Eastern Reach suffered grievous losses in Burnt Bay,
too.”

“It’s funny,” Danton replied, without his usual swagger.

“More Easterners died in Burnt Bay than any other Reach,
and yet, I don’t hear these barbaric cries for execution from
my people.” His voice went sharp.

“Well.” Akeylah leaned forward in her seat, eager to avoid

an all-out fight.

“I’m sure we can all appreciate the high emotions involved.

Many people lost loved ones on those ships.”

Danton narrowed his eyes. “So you agree with those baying
for your sister’s blood.”

She flinched. Danton had always been the one ambassador

she counted on for

support. His relationship with Ren, fraught though it may be

at times, usually made him agreeable to the sisters’
suggestions. “Of course not, Ambassador. I’m merely
suggesting we all feel strongly about the situation. We must
take care so that our emotions don’t lead us to false
conclusions.”

“So your father doesn’t plan to put Florencia on trial.”

Ghoush’s mouth thinned.
Akeylah swallowed hard. Here it was. She should agree to a
trial. It’s what the heir demanded. Seas knew the heir could
ruin her as easily as they had her sisters. By this time
tomorrow, it could be Akeylah’s head these ambassadors
were demanding. Or worse.

Ignore me, and I’ll make those you love suffer in your stead.

She thought about her father. About Ren, or even Zofi.

Would Zofi still think to shield herself, out on the road? And
there was Rozalind, of course. At least the queen shared no
bloodline with the heir, couldn’t be cursed. But there were
other ways to make people suffer.…

But giving in to the heir’s demand meant sacrificing Ren,

and for what? The brief illusion of safety. After she subjected
Ren to a trial, there would be another demand, and another,
until the heir took the throne at last.

Could Akeylah really be so easily controlled? Was she a

puppet after all?

“We don’t believe there is sufficient evidence to justify a

trial,” Akeylah said.

“Yet,” she added, when it looked like Ghoush was about to

protest again.

Danton, who’d relaxed at her first statement, tensed at the

final word.

She avoided his eye and cleared her throat. “Now, if we can
return to the agenda. The crop blight is our first item of
business.”

Ambassador Ghoush folded her hands on the tabletop. “As I

understand it, the agricultural guild has produced a cure
that worked on the farms surrounding Kolonya City.”

Akeylah nodded. “But we’ll need to distribute it to the outer

Reaches as soon as possible if we want to avoid mass
famine. Especially the Reaches with short crop-growing
seasons…” The meeting droned on.

More than once, she caught Danton studying her, gaze

narrowed.

She didn’t like keeping Ren locked up any more than he did.
But while she couldn’t release her sister, she wouldn’t force
her into a worse position either.

She would not cave to the heir’s demands.

Akeylah didn’t know why the heir singled out Ren and Zofi
for punishment.

Or why they’d decided to manipulate Akeylah instead. But

she’d spent too much of her life being beaten. Too much
time on the floor, cowering. No more.

If the heir wanted a sister they could easily control, they

picked the wrong one.

12

Zofi

Falling back into the Traveler stride was easy. A relief,

almost. She’d been able to make only minor headway on
foot, but on horseback, they rode all day and well into the
night.

The next morning, Zofi roused Vidal before the sun so they
could ride throughout the early morning. At midday they
broke to nap in the heat, then started again in the
afternoon.

Vidal proved much better at maintaining this grueling pace

than she’d expected. Maybe there was something to be said
for the Talons’ training after all.

By nightfall, she expected him to quit. Instead, he rode

without protest until a rare desert thunderstorm gathered on
the horizon, obscuring the moons. Only then did Zofi
decided to camp, to avoid the worst of the damp.

They removed the horses’ tacks and pitched the double tent
Vidal had brought.

“Impressive.” She inspected the tent. “Is this why you

signed up to become a Talon? All the fancy equipment that
comes with the job?”

He laughed. “Hardly. I signed up because ever since I was a

little boy, for as long as I could remember, I wanted to serve
Kolonya. All the Reaches,” he quickly amended. “The same
way my father served, and his mother before him.”

“What’s so appealing about a life of servitude?” She

scrunched her forehead.

But Vidal’s face lit up. “It’s not servitude. It’s protecting
people. Helping people. I surrender some personal freedom,
but I gain so much more from becoming a piece of
something greater than myself. Together, we Talons keep
the Reaches safe.”
She worked on the campfire in silence, digesting. She could
understand

sacrificing a little bit of yourself to build something bigger.

Wasn’t that what her band did, after all? They stuck
together through thick and thin, not because they had to,
but because they chose to. Together, they were stronger.
Together, they were more than they could ever be apart.

Now, tent raised and a merry campfire blazing in

anticipation of the rain that would soon try its best to douse
the flames, Zofi huddled next to the Talon she was starting
to understand. Their thighs touched as they squeezed onto
a makeshift bench built from rolled-up rucksacks.

She wondered what a passerby would say if they chanced

upon the two. A Traveler and a Kolonyan riding through the
desert together. A strange pairing, most would think.

Zofi longed for a world where that wouldn’t be strange.

Where Travelers could ride with anyone they liked, aspire to
any position they wished.

She could’ve started that. Been a Traveler queen like Claera,

helped her people.

“Are you all right?” Vidal leaned across to thrust a spit of

meat—a hare Zofi had shot earlier in the day—into the
coals. “You’re uncharacteristically quiet.”

“I’m hungry, that’s all.” She lifted her hands to the fire. The
warmth tickled her palms, yet did little to quell her surge of
regret.

I failed my band. She would not be queen. She’d been

forced out of Kolonya, sent home with her tail between her
legs, and a Talon in tow, no less.
“Are you worried we won’t catch up to your band in time?”
Vidal’s brows furrowed. “You said they’d be out west this
time of year. We’re almost to the swamplands—”

“We should reach them by tomorrow morning.” Tomorrow,

which would mark a week since her departure. If she’d had
a horse all along, she could have made it to her band in two
days, three at most. But since she’d had to walk for so long
at the start…

She prayed she wasn’t too late.

“Then what’s bothering you?”

She hated how, in just the few short weeks they’d known
each other, Vidal had learned to read her so well. “Just…”
She gestured vaguely at their camp.

Overhead, the rain clouds thundered. “This. My banishment.

I’m on my way home to announce my failure.”

“What do you mean?” Vidal turned the hare over.

“My mother wanted me to play the Keep’s games. Elex

wanted me to win the throne. Instead I got myself thrown
out in disgrace.”

“Surely your band knew what you were up against.”

“That’s just it.” Her fists balled. She thought about all the
judgment, all the prejudices and hatred she’d faced, simply
for who she was. “I was supposed to—

I wanted to change all that. I wanted to sit on the throne,

not for me, but for them. I thought if I was crowned, maybe
people would stop treating Travelers like we’re less than
human.”
Vidal refilled her cup from their waterskin. Then he
contemplated his own mug for a long moment. “I don’t
know if that alone would have done much.

People have their prejudices. It will take a long time to

change those, whether or not you’re queen.”

She rolled her eyes and drained her mug. “Somehow that
doesn’t lift my spirits.”

“But.” He nudged her with an elbow. “Queen or not, you can

still work toward that. You don’t need a throne to change
people’s minds.”

She looked at him. Found herself distracted all over again by

those dark hazel eyes of his. They flashed with the lightning
overhead.

“You didn’t need a throne to change my mind, after all,” he

murmured.

“You’re different.”

He laughed, soft and breathy. “I’m nobody. Just an

anonymous minion, remember?”

Oh, she remembered. Anonymous minion. That was what

she had called him the first time they spoke. After she
awoke in a carriage bound for Kolonya City, her whole life
turned upside down by one phantasm dart. She glanced at
his lips, at the ghost of a smile that danced there. Felt the
corners of her own mouth lift in response. “No, you aren’t.”

He bent closer.

A sharp crack from the fire startled her, and she whipped
around, hurriedly grabbed the poker. Rain had begun to fall
around them, soft but gaining force.

They wouldn’t have long to finish roasting this hare. She

prodded a large chunk of wood, and flames burst forth.

When she dared a peek at him again, Vidal turned the hare
on its spit, carefully avoiding her gaze. “Tell me more about
your band,” he said after a silence that was too long, too
electric.

Think about Elex, she reminded herself. Elex, who she’d see
again soon.

Elex, who Ren had promised to pardon.

Elex, who she’d barely thought of since the night she bid
him farewell. Elex, who she cared about but who only knew
the old Zofi. The Traveler she used to

be. Not the hybrid she was now. Half-Traveler, half-Kolonyan.

She swallowed hard. “What do you want to know?”

“Whatever you want to share. Your history, maybe? Your

legends? I only know Kolonyan ones. I’m sure you must have
your own.”

“Plenty.” She grinned and stirred the fire again. “Who do you
want to hear about? Kolonyans normally love the stories
about Traveler Queen Claera, King Ilian’s wife.”

To her surprise, he shook his head. “I’ve heard those. I want

the ones I wouldn’t have learned growing up. Who came
before Claera? What other queens were there?”

She laughed. “Queen is a misnomer, really. Claera took the

title when she wed Ilian. But our bands don’t recognize
royalty. Each band has its own leader, though there’s no
election or crowning. It’s just whoever volunteers to take on
the burden of leadership, for as long as they care to bear it.
When they’ve decided they’re done, someone else steps up
to fill their shoes.”

Vidal’s eyebrows rose. “Is it always so peaceful?”

“No,” she admitted. “But it’s usually more or less

democratic.”

He grinned. “What happens when it isn’t?”

“Anyone in the band can challenge a leader they believe is

making unfair or selfish choices.”

“Challenge them how?” Vidal blinked. “Combat?”

“Such a Talon.” She nudged his knee with hers. “No. To a

testing.”

“What’s that?” Vidal propped his chin in his hand, balanced

on one knee as he listened.

“Well, the Travelers started out as wisdom keepers. Back in

the day when the First Six came over—you know, the first
six ships that settled the Reaches?”

“I thought it was the First Five.”

Zofi snorted. “They always erase us. Even in history. Watch

it, by the way, that’s burning.” She reached over to take the
hare from him. Sheepishly, he released it, and their
fingertips brushed as he handed it over. She flipped the
meat. “There were six ships. Five settled the Reaches that
exist now. The sixth was the Traveler ship, captained by
Nova. She decided that rather than settling in any one
Reach, her people would move among them all. In exchange
for free passage, and support from the other Reaches—
resources, food, water—the Travelers brought knowledge
from Reach to Reach. Those first Travelers were menders,
counselors, historians, storytellers who had memorized the
histories of Genal, and priests of the old religion. The one
that came before the Arts.”

“How do we not learn about any of this?” Vidal asked.

She shrugged a shoulder. It brushed against his. The heat

from his arm sent the hairs at the back of her neck to
attention. “Perhaps because your people devalue history
now. Over time, our jobs changed. At first, we chronicled the
new histories—the events and legends that sprang up in
each Reach. We carried stories from one Reach to another,
kept the Reaches united.… You might say Travelers were the
bloodstream of this continent. Respected, revered even, for
the knowledge we bore.”

“What happened?”

“The Arts. When they first appeared, Travelers collected

information about their use from all over the Reaches, the
same way we catalogued all knowledge.

We recorded new tithes, unique uses for the Arts, all sorts of
research. When King Ilian proposed to Claera, it was
because of her experience with the Arts. He wanted that
knowledge for himself—though of course Claera didn’t know
it at the time. She trusted Ilian. Loved him.” Zofi’s voice
hardened. “But after she was crowned and began to teach
the Arts to more Kolonyans, rumors began to spread.
Rumors about some of her practices being ungodly. About
Travelers learning witchcraft, becoming evil curseworkers. It
was because tithing was still new, of course. People always
fear the new and different. The Arts weren’t embraced
Reaches-wide yet, not the way they are today.”

“But they worked the Vulgar Arts, too,” Vidal said. “They
knew curses. I can understand why that unsettled people.”

Zofi shook her head so hard her curls bounced against her
cheeks. “Back then, there was no distinction between the
Vulgar and the Blood Arts. Not until nearly a century later,
when acolytes of the Sun laid out the edicts to govern

‘proper’ tithing.” Zofi made quotes with her fingers. “By

then, of course, the damage had already been done.” She
flashed him an angry glance. “People hated us. Just for the
knowledge we tried to bring them.”

“If all that is true, though, without Travelers…”

“The Reaches wouldn’t be the continent we know today.

No.” She smirked.

“Ironic, isn’t it?”

Vidal fell silent for so long that this time, Zofi nearly burned
the hare. She removed it from the fire, propped the stick in
the sand to cool. By the time it had cooled enough for her to
rip off a leg and pass it to him, Vidal was gazing into the
flames, lost. Zofi elbowed him.

“It’s a very depressing story and all,” she said, “but you do
still need to eat.”

He accepted the leg. Bit off a chunk and chewed. “Do you
think it’s needed

again?” he asked once he’d swallowed.

Zofi helped herself to a leg of her own. “What do you
mean?”

“That knowledge. Not about tithes—about the Reaches. Our

history. Our real history, not just the pieces Kolonya tells
us.”

“I think it’s always needed.” She bit into the leg. A spurt of
juice ran down her chin. She caught it and licked her finger.
Sands. There was nothing quite like this. Meat fresh off the
spit, with rain falling all around, and a warm, friendly body
to share it with. Swapping stories over the fire as though
she were already home.

Without thinking about it, she leaned closer to Vidal. She

tried to tell herself it was for warmth.

She almost believed it.

“Maybe that’s what you need to do now,” Vidal said.

“What do you mean?” She chewed another mouthful of

hare.

“You can’t be queen. And that’s a shame, because I think

you would’ve made a damn fine one.”

She snorted again. “Sucking up won’t win you any more of

this hare.”

“But you can still help change people’s minds. Help change
the Reaches—by telling that story. That story, and any
others you think the world needs to hear.”

“People don’t want to hear Traveler stories any more than

they want to let Travelers stay in their towns and sleep in
their fancy inns.”
Vidal reached across her and helped himself to another
haunch. She tried not to think about how his arm brushed
along hers. “So make them listen. Trick them into it if you
have to—hide it in plays, tell stories to the children, or write
it in books.”

“That all takes time and money and sponsorship from higher
powers.”

“You have time,” he answered. “As for money and

sponsorship, look, Zofi…” He touched her knee. Waited until
she looked at him. “You might be in exile, but you are still
the daughter of a king. Nothing can change that. And from
what I’ve seen of your sisters, they care for you and love
you still. One day, one of them will take your father’s place.
They may not be able to overturn his edict, or lift his ban,
but they will be able to support any actions you take.”

Assuming it’s one of my sisters who wins this thing, and not
the enemy who forced me out in the first place. She fought
away the thought. “We’ll see.”

Vidal just grinned and reached up to tuck a stray curl behind

her ear. “That doesn’t sound like the Zofi I know. The Zofi I
know would say ‘I’ll make it happen no matter what.’”

A faint smile touched her lips. “Yes, well. Maybe the Zofi you
know underestimated just how much stands in her way.”

His expression softened. Turned serious. “The Zofi I know

could take on the whole world, if she needed to.”

Their eyes locked, and her heart skipped. It took effort this
time to tear her gaze away, to shift the topic to some joke
about him shivering from the rain. It was picking up now,
beginning to fall in sheets. They finished eating, kicked sand
over the fire, and retreated into the tent.
But when they crawled inside, the steady torrential rain
overhead punctuated now and again by deep rumbles of
thunder, Zofi took one look at their separate sleeping cots
and tugged her mat next to his. Without a word, she spread
both blankets across the joined bed.

Vidal watched her for a moment. Then he reached over and

tugged her to him, their bodies hot as furnaces beneath the
covers. “Are you sure?” he whispered into her hair.

In response, Zofi pulled his face to hers. Their lips collided.

He tasted like smoke from the fire, like the earth after rain.
He was warm and solid and real, his body taut against hers,
and as her lips parted to let him in, the world shrank to just
the two of them.

For the first time since she’d left Kolonya, something finally
felt right.

13

Florencia

Four days. Four days of pacing her chambers. She counted

twenty steps from the main entrance to the bathing
chamber. Ten steps bed to window, ten more from bed to
serving entrance.

Ren had long since memorized the voices of the various

Talons outside.
She’d nicknamed the ones by the serving entrance Gabby
and Snarky, the former always complaining about
something, the latter responding with bemused sarcasm.
But even Snarky didn’t defend Ren when Gabby went on a
tirade about his cousin who drowned at Burnt Bay.

When she wasn’t listening to Talon gossip or counting steps,

Ren occupied herself as best she could. Mama visited a few
times, though she usually brought more disheartening tales.
Stories of nobles arguing in favor of Ren’s execution.

Lord Rueno was the loudest of them all.

Audrina wrote to say she’d visit when she could. Ren wrote
her more than a few letters in response, though she tried to
stick to mundane details. The sort of things they used to
talk about, back before their friendship strained under the
pressure of Ren’s new position. She hoped Audrina read the
letters, understood that Ren wanted things to go back to
normal between them.

Not that it would much matter, she supposed, if Rueno took

her head.

She wrote to Akeylah most often. She begged for news of

their father, word from Zofi, updates on what was
happening in the Keep. Akeylah sent back oneline answers.
No change in Father. No word from Zofi. Keep under control.
More when I have time.

None of the details Ren craved. What’s happening out

there? she wanted to scream.

The only information she’d received so far had been from

Danton. He told her about all the appointments Akeylah had
been taking—the council of lords, individual petitioners,
even a regional council meeting yesterday. In it, Danton told
her, Akeylah had spoken against putting Ren on trial. She
supposed that was something. Though from his description,
it would only be a matter of time. The other ambassadors
pushed for more direct action. Ren knew Akeylah wouldn’t
be able to delay much longer.

On the morning of her fourth day locked in this bedroom,

the sort of chamber she’d once coveted, but which now felt
impossibly small, Mama visited again, this time carrying
breakfast.

“Mama.” Ren flung herself into her mother’s arms before

she had a chance to set down the tray. It had only been two
days since Ren had seen her, but that felt like an eternity in
here.

“Wait a moment, Ren, you’re going to spill the sheep’s

milk,” Mama scolded.

Then she set down breakfast and scooped Ren into her
arms. The two embraced until the Talons left.

Only then did Mama kiss her cheek and draw back to study
her, gaze sharp as a stormwing’s. “What have they been
doing to you?”

“Nothing, Mama. I told you, I’m fine.”

“These vultures have you locked up like a criminal. That’s

about as far from fine as you can get.” Mama’s lips twisted
into a scowl. “I told you not to trust that Easterner.”

“Akeylah’s trying to help, Mama. Danton says she stalled the

regional council from putting me on trial.”

Mama scoffed. “Some help that is. You wouldn’t need

anybody to stall anything if that girl would just publicly
denounce these ridiculous charges. I’ll bet she’s the one
who concocted this story in the first place, to get you out of
her way. You’re the best-suited candidate, after all—the
most natural heir.”

At that, Ren turned away. She crossed to her windows.

Through the panes, she could see all the way to the Living
Wall. The River Leath glinted beyond its leafy canopy, a
distant flash of silver wrapped like a bracelet around
Kolonya City.

Spread under her feet was the city itself. The terra-cotta
rooftops of the merchant’s district, the brightly colored tents
of the marketplaces, the white-painted brick of the scholars’
quarter, the dark stone of the Necropolis. So many people.
So many lives.

She wondered how many had relatives on the ships at Burnt

Bay.

Only when Mama crossed the room to stand beside her did
Ren speak again, in a whisper. “The charges are true,
Mama.”

For a moment, Mama fell silent. Her eyebrows rose, then

lowered again, even deeper thunderclouds than before.
“Who made you do it? Did the rebels force the plans from
you?”

“Shh,” she hissed, because Mama’s voice had risen

dangerously close to a volume the Talons might overhear.
“Nobody forced me, Mama. I did it of my own volition.” Well,
mostly. “I didn’t think anyone would get hurt. The rebels
said they wanted to escape, not attack us.”

Mama swore.
“I’ve regretted it every day since. But that won’t change
anything. It won’t give all these people their families back.”
She gestured at the city. “Perhaps this is what I deserve.
Perhaps I should just tell Akeylah to go ahead and call a
tribunal.”

“No.” Mama narrowed her eyes. “You’re right, Ren, you

cannot change the past. Which means there’s no sense in
you sacrificing yourself, or all your hard work—all my hard
work, too, I might add—to get you this far. Leaders make
mistakes sometimes; it comes with the territory. But letting
your sister exploit you—”

“Akeylah didn’t do this. Or at least, I don’t think it was her.”

Ren had nothing left to lose now—the whole city knew her
secret. She might as well unburden herself to the one
person who would understand. With a heavy sigh, Ren told
her everything. From the blackmailer’s threats to Yasmin’s
death and Zofi’s banishment. By the time she stopped
speaking, her throat felt dry, and Mama had taken a seat
right there on the windowsill.

“So when you collapsed in the baths…” Mama began.

Ren nodded. “The so-called heir cursed me.”

“And when that didn’t work, they spread this story.” Mama
pursed her mouth. “Well, whoever they are, they’re smart,
unfortunately. You really believe the Eastern girl is
innocent?”

Ren spread her hands wide. “I’ve seen a blackmail note she
was sent.

Whether she penned it herself or not, I can’t be certain, but

she told me the secret the heir is using against her. I don’t
know why she would admit her own crime if she’s the one
behind these attacks.”

“To throw suspicion off, perhaps.” Mama tapped her chin,

lost in thought.

“Unless it’s someone else just as close to the throne.”

Ren’s brow lowered. “Who else is there?”

“Why, the current queen, of course.”

Mama said it so matter-of-factly that Ren almost rolled her

eyes. “Mama, I told you, this person has been using the
Vulgar Arts. They’re related, probably within one or two
generations, to perform curses this strong.”

“Exactly,” Mama replied. Only when Ren’s face remained

blank did her mother’s begin to clear in comprehension.
“Oh, Ren, I’m sorry, I just assumed you would have heard
from your friends in the serving quarters.…”

“Heard what?” Ren crossed her arms.

“I’ve been visiting Madam Oruna for the past few days.”
Mama patted the windowsill beside her. After a moment’s
hesitation, Ren sat. “I thought it would be a good idea to
keep an ear open for any potentially useful gossip.”

I learned from the best, Ren couldn’t help thinking.

“The most interesting thing I learned was what the queen’s

chambermaids relayed to Oruna. They say Rozalind’s sheets
have been spotless for the last three months.”

Ren frowned. “That’s hardly surprising. I doubt she and

Father shared beds often, especially since he fell ill—”
“No, Ren, you mistake my meaning. Spotless. Even when all
three moons are high.”

Ren’s eyes widened. “But…”

“As for Rozalind,” Mama continued, “she’s summoned girls

in the wee hours at least three times over the past couple
months. Emergency cleaning services.

The queen told anyone who asked that it was a bad case of
food poisoning, but she refused a mender’s inspection. Then
last week, Rozalind ordered a dozen new shift gowns tailor-
made, with much wider waist measurements. The same
day, she dismissed her personal attendants. I can guess
why, if she wants to keep this quiet.”

“She’s pregnant?” Ren hissed. “But that makes no sense.

Father would never have recognized me or my sisters if he
knew he had a legitimate heir on the way.”

“That’s the kicker.” Mama cast her a pointed look. “Andros

must not know.

Believe me, I spoke to him just after he summoned you. All

he could talk about was how he regretted putting you in this
position, how he’d hoped his young wife could have supplied
a true heir.”

“Maybe it’s not his,” Ren mused.

“Knowing how the queen’s tastes run, I doubt that.” Mama

lifted a brow.

“Then why would she hide something that affects the whole
kingdom? She
could’ve spared Andros months of worry. He could have left
my sisters and me ignorant of our heritage.”

“That I don’t understand,” Mama admitted. “It does seem a

strange decision.

But you said this heir person was a relative. If Rozalind is

carrying Andros’s child, your sibling…”

Ren’s stomach dropped. What did Mama always tell her? For
nine whole months, we were the same person, you and I.
Pregnancy made women as strong as two people. It
combined twice the willpower, twice the Arts ability in one
body.

“But she’s Genalese,” Ren said. “She can’t tithe.”

“She can’t. Her half-Kolonyan child can.”

“Is that possible?” Ren’s voice dropped to a hushed whisper.

“Has anyone…

I mean, when was the last time anyone from the Reaches
wed someone from Genal?”

“We all descend from Genal if you look far enough back,”
Mama pointed out.

“Check the history books from three or four hundred years

ago. You’ll find plenty of examples of half-Genalese children
tithing the same way any native of the Reaches can.”

Ren’s body went cold. This changed everything.

If Rozalind was pregnant with Ren’s half sibling, then for the
duration of that pregnancy… Rozalind was as good as Ren’s
sibling, too.

For hours after her mother’s departure, all Ren could do was
turn that information over and over in her mind.

Rozalind is pregnant. And for some reason, she’d elected to

hide it from Andros, from everybody in the Keep. Did
Akeylah even know? She and the queen were… close. How
much had Rozalind shared?

Why hide this?

If Rozalind had told Andros months ago, he’d never have

summoned Ren, Akeylah, or Zofi. He wouldn’t have needed
to. He had a legitimate heir on the way.

Now… if Andros never recovered, Rozalind would find it

difficult to prove the child’s parentage. The court would
want to know why she’d concealed the pregnancy. Why
Andros didn’t acknowledge the heir himself.

Moreover, if he did recover, how would she explain to her

husband that she’d

hidden a secret this huge?

Ren’s head swam.

Late in the afternoon, another knock came. This time, the

Talons introduced her guest with all the formal flourishes
that preceded a royal entrance.

“Akeylah.” Ren rose from her writing desk on shaky legs.

Does she know?
Was her sister working with Rozalind, or was she another
pawn of the queen’s?

The moment she stepped inside, Akeylah swept across the

room to kiss Ren’s cheeks. “I’m so sorry I didn’t visit
sooner,” she said as the Talons bowed out of the room. “I
keep trying to sneak away, but my schedule is packed.
Between the council meetings and the nobles demanding
attention…”

Once the doors shut, Akeylah collapsed onto the bed.

“Honestly, I don’t know how Father does it. Ruling is
exhausting.”

“I wouldn’t know.” Ren kept her tone carefully even.

“Personally, I’ve had all the time in the world for relaxation,
caged in here.”

Akeylah winced. “I apologize for that, too. It’s only

temporary, until we can clear your name.”

“We?” Ren asked, voice sharpening as she studied her

sister’s expression.

She didn’t want to believe Akeylah knew about Rozalind, or

that she’d been helping the queen all along. But Ren knew
how close the two were. Despite Ren’s warning to Akeylah
about sneaking around with their father’s wife, Danton
informed her that Akeylah now spent every night in the
king’s and queen’s conjoined suites.

Was it mere coincidence that Akeylah was the only sister

whose secret wasn’t exposed?

“Yes, we. You and me. We’ll clear this mess up together.”
Confusion warred with worry on Akeylah’s face. It seemed
genuine, but Ren knew all too well how easily lying came to
some courtiers. Maybe Akeylah’s innocent shy behavior had
been an act all along.

Whoever they are, they’re smart, Mama had said. Akeylah

was smart. Smart enough to fool everyone for this long?

“I doubt I have any say in the matter.” Ren lifted her chin.
“From where I’m sitting, it’s you and your girlfriend holding
the reins now.”

“Rozalind is trying to help us,” Akeylah started, but Ren

spoke over her.

“Are you working with her? Is that why she’s left you
unscathed?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m still being

threatened by the heir.” Akeylah lowered her voice to an
angry whisper. “I just got another message yesterday
morning.”

“Care to share proof? Because from where I’m sitting, you

look like the only one who’s escaped this reckoning.” Ren
gestured at the barred doors on either side of her chambers.
“Sun above, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you could be
the heir yourself. After all, you’ve already used the Vulgar
Arts against one family member.”

Akeylah flinched as though slapped. “At least I told you

about my crime, Ren. So did Zofi, for that matter. You’re the
one who kept yours a secret from everyone, even us.”

“A secret?” She laughed. “The whole world knows what I’ve

done by now.

But yes, you’ve got me pegged. I’m a criminal mastermind

who locked myself in my own chambers. It’s all part of my
evil plan to let someone else usurp the throne.”

“Ren, this is what the heir wants. They want to get into our
heads, make us distrust one another. We cannot fall for it.”

“I’m worried you already have, Akeylah.” As far as Ren could

tell, Akeylah was telling the truth. But she could still be
Rozalind’s pawn, whether she knew it or not. “What
message did the heir send you?”

Akeylah balled her fists. “They said they’ll hurt people I love
unless I obey their orders. Which I’ve already disobeyed, by
the way, since they demanded I put you on trial at once.”

“Thank you for that,” Ren replied, serious. That seemed to

mollify Akeylah somewhat. “But has it occurred to you there
might be another reason the heir isn’t treating you the way
they treated Zofi or me?”

“Because I’m weak? Easier to manipulate?” Akeylah’s mouth

twisted bitterly.

“Because maybe part of her does care about you, even

though she’s using you for her own gain.” Ren spread her
hands, palms up. “Or maybe she thinks having you beside
her will legitimize her claim. Once Father dies, you two can
wed and she can have the baby, raise it as both of yours.”

Akeylah’s body went very, very still. “You’re not making any
sense, Ren.”

Oh, Sun above. Did Akeylah truly not know? “Rozalind hasn’t
told you?”

“What do you have against her? She’s Genalese, Ren; of all

the people in the Keep, she’s the only one who couldn’t
possibly—”
“She’s pregnant, Akeylah.”

In that moment, Ren knew Akeylah was on her side. The

way her sister’s face, her whole body, crumpled… nobody
could fake that. Not even a trained actor with the best
hunting face in the world.

“That’s not possible.” Akeylah’s voice came out wooden.

“Maids notice everything,” Ren said, gentler now. “Clean

sheets for months, bouts of morning sickness, new, loose
gowns Rozalind had tailored…”

“She would have told me.”

Ren rose from the desk, crossed to sit beside Akeylah on the
bed. “Akeylah, think about it. You hardly know her. I warned
you about getting too close.…”

Akeylah turned her face away. Swiped angrily at her eyes

with the back of her hand. “Even if she is…” Akeylah
couldn’t say the word. “Even if she’s in that condition. It still
doesn’t mean she’s capable of all this.”

“Pregnant mothers can tithe or curse with their child’s

blood. I don’t know what happens if the mother is Genalese,
but since her child is half-Kolonyan…”

Ren stopped speaking when Akeylah’s mouth went slack.

“What is it?”

“The tithing…” Akeylah whispered. She swallowed hard.

Spoke again with her eyes shut tight. “I didn’t understand it.
Neither did Rozalind—she told me the ability came on her
suddenly, and she couldn’t figure out why.”
Ren swore. “You knew she could tithe? Why didn’t you tell
us?”

Akeylah tugged at one sleeve. Wound her fingers through

the fabric. “I didn’t think it relevant. She’s not related to us.
What did it matter?”

Ren grimaced. Stared down at her lap.

“Even Rozalind didn’t know why she could suddenly tithe.”

“She wouldn’t,” Ren said. “She wasn’t raised here; she

doesn’t understand how the Arts work.”

Her sister drew a shaky breath. “Look, even if she’s

pregnant.” This time, her voice barely shook. “We can’t be
sure she’s the heir.”

“You’re right. We need proof.”

“How?” Akeylah met Ren’s gaze.

“You’re closer to her than anyone. And from the sound of it,
you’ve ignored the heir’s demand, so they’ll be gearing up
to punish you somehow, soon. If you stick to Rozalind’s side,
never let her out of your sight—”

“I have duties to attend to,” Akeylah protested. “And I’ve

needed Rozalind to stay and look after Father while I do.”

“How long has it been, a week already?” Ren looked up, out
the window.

“Either Zofi will be sending the cure in the next couple of

days, or…” Or Father will be dead soon, anyway. “Do you
think you can delay your other duties that long, at least?
Push back any nonvital meetings and stay with Father and
Rozalind for now?”

Her sister nodded, though her mind looked far away.

Ren reached out, touched Akeylah’s shoulder. “I apologize

for accusing you earlier. When I suggested you were
working with her. I just… I had to be sure.”

“It’s all right.” Akeylah managed a weak smile. “I’d have

done the same.”

Ren didn’t believe that. Akeylah was always the kind one,
the softest sister.

But she appreciated the lie. It made Ren feel a little less bad
for distrusting one of the few allies she had left.

Ren forced a faint smile as she rose to walk her sister out.
“For what it’s worth, Akeylah, if you need to talk any more
about this… Well.” She gestured at her bedroom. “You
always know where to find me.”

14

Zofi

The next morning, Zofi spotted a familiar tuft of black

tumbleweed curls at a farmers market in a small marsh-side
town, just half a day’s ride past the edge of the desert.
“Norren!” She stood up in her saddle to wave. Beside her,
Vidal started and reached for his sword before he realized
she was grinning like an idiot.

“Zofi?” The old bear of a Traveler, almost wider than he was

tall, paused in the middle of haggling over potatoes. “Am I
seeing things?”

She kicked her feet from the stirrups and slid off her silver
stallion.

By the time she’d dismounted, Norren had abandoned the

potatoes entirely to gape at her horse instead. He knew
exactly how much an alpha like this would fetch at auction.
“Well, if it isn’t Her Highness the princess visiting in style,”
he joked.

Zofi slapped his shoulder, and only then did he recall

himself and pull her into a crushing hug. “Nice to see you,
too. How’s Rull?”

“Oh, you know, as big a pain in my rear end as that brat has
ever been.” He grinned. To hear him talk, you’d never guess
Rull had been his exclusive partner for the past fifteen years
—rarer than a double lunar eclipse by Traveler standards.
“What in sands’ name are you doing here, child?” He
squinted at Vidal. “And riding with a king’s Talon, no less.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t bring him to camp,” Zofi was saying

while Vidal dismounted.

“How can you tell I’m a Talon?” Vidal glanced at his attire.
He wore a simple cotton shirt, leather breeches, and
unmarked boots. His uniform sat balled at the base of his
saddlebag.

“Besides the stallion?” Norren pointed at Vidal’s waist,

where his horn dangled. “Only Talons carry stormwing
horns.”

Vidal cursed. “You told me it would pass for a drinking horn,

Zofi. That nobody would notice the carvings.”

Her eyes sparkled. “My bad. I should have said nobody but
Norren here, who’s got the best eye in the Reaches for the
finer details of anything he might be able to pawn.”

“Give you a hundred kolons, if you’re looking to sell.” Desire

flashed in Norren’s eyes.

Vidal swept into a bow, one hand clasped protectively

around the horn.

“Thank you for the offer, sir, but I’m afraid a hundred kolons
wouldn’t pay for half the menders’ treatments I’d need if my
commander found out I’d sold this.”

Norren burst into laughter. “Sir.” He slapped Vidal’s

shoulder, then turned to wink at Zofi. “Don’t worry about
bringing the boy to camp. Not if he’s with you.”

She didn’t like the way Norren’s eyes sparkled when he said
with. She narrowed hers. “I need to speak to my mother.”

“Of course. But I thought you…” He shook his head. “Well, I

didn’t know what to think, truth be told. First those Talons
dragged you off, then Deena told us all it was fine, they’d
come to crown you a princess.” He guffawed again, louder.
“Can you imagine that? A princess, our Zofi.” Norren
mimicked an elaborate curtsy, and Zofi elbowed his side,
hard.

“Don’t you dare start.”

But Norren maintained a steady stream of my lady s and
assorted affected titles all the way through the marshlands.
Unlike the oasis towns, which by necessity had to huddle
together around their lone source of water, villages out here
in the Western Reach tended to sprawl. This one consisted
of at least a hundred houses on stilts, dotted throughout a
swamp that stretched as far as the eye could see in every
direction. Here and there, portions had been walled off to
grow rice and grains, but most of it, as far as Zofi could tell,
remained wild.

They walked several feet above the marshes on a wooden

path that varied from ten feet at its widest down to narrow
foot-wide bridges Zofi had to tiptoe over. At the first of
these, she and Vidal were forced to tie their horses to a
hitching post, the animals unable to cross.

“I can stay and watch them,” Vidal offered.

“No need,” Norren said. “Enough people have seen you by

now. Even if this area was known for thieves, which it isn’t,
nobody is daft enough to steal a

Talon’s ride.”

Finally, far ahead, she spied a structure that reminded her of

a tree house without the tree. A massive four-level series of
wooden platforms, it stood open to the elements, save for
the tents pitched around the edges. And clustered around
those tents, she saw them.

Bette and her kids. Her partner Rez. Mia. Lek. Ora. Dozens
of familiar faces, one after the other. More materialized as
she drew closer, and shouts started up along the platform.

Finally, emerging from one of the tents on the first level, his
hair cropped shorter than the last time she’d seen him, his
cheeks thin from weeks on the run…

Elex.

She walked as if in a trance. It felt like drifting backward

through time to an earlier version of herself, a less
complicated one. To the Zofi who only knew half of her life,
half of her story.

She was still aware of Norren on her right, shouting

greetings. Vidal on her left, close enough that their fingers
brushed with each step. She glanced over, found him
staring at Elex, too. Of course. They’d met the night she
sprang Elex from the dungeons. The night Vidal turned
traitor to help Elex escape.

They nodded to each other, expressions solemn.

Then Elex’s eyes caught hers. She still felt a skip in her
heart, a warmth under her skin, yet it felt different this time.
Confusing, because now, standing between him and Vidal,
she could still feel Vidal’s kisses on her mouth, his hands on
her bare skin, all over me…

She didn’t know how she felt. Not anymore.

“Zofi. What are you doing here?” Elex asked. “Is everything
all right?”

She hauled herself onto the wooden platform beside him.

“I’m fine” was all she managed to get out before Elex
wrapped his arms around her, pulled her into the tight,
crushing embrace she’d always loved—the kind that always
used to make her feel safe, secure, home.

He smelled the same. Like electricity after a storm. But

holding him, she didn’t feel that relaxation, that release
anymore. She felt taut as a bowstring.

She wriggled out of his arms. “What about you?” she said. “I
would’ve thought you’d still be on the run.”

Elex looked stung when she backed away, but only for a
moment. “I don’t know how you managed it, Zofi.” He
grinned. “But a pardon came through, clearing me of all
charges. I got word of it in the town where I was camped out

just a couple days ago.”

She forced a smile. “The crown owed me a favor.” Mostly

true.

At least one good thing came of her exile. Elex was free
now. But he must have read the conflict on her face,
because his smile flickered. Faded.

“It was the least I could do, after everything,” Zofi added.

“But if you’re here, then…”

“It’s a long story.” She did need to talk to Elex, but not now.
First she had work to do. “It’ll be better told around a
campfire with a strong beverage. Have you seen my
mother?”

“Top platform.” He pointed. “You’ll see her tent. Watch the

ladders, they’re rickety.”

Already a week had passed since she left Kolonya City.

Father would only have a few days left. If Mother knew of a
cure, Zofi had to send it immediately.
After that, she’d have all the time in the world.

After that, whatever happened back in Kolonya had nothing

to do with her anymore. That fact hurt more than she
expected.

She glanced over her shoulder. “Vidal. My mother has

something I’ll need to send to the Keep as fast as possible.”
Her gaze drifted to the horn at his waist.

“Do you think you might be able to make use of your, ah,
pet?”

He followed her eye. “Is it a written message, or something

larger?”

“Written.”

He nodded. “Should be doable. Find me whenever you’re

ready.”

She couldn’t wait to see how that went over with her band.
A Talon summoning a stormwing right into their camp. Still,
it relaxed her somewhat.

Stormwings rode the thermals, so high above the ground

they usually looked like specks in a clear sky. Vidal’s bird
should be able to carry a message to Akeylah in no time.
Assuming Mother had the answers they needed.

For a moment, Zofi just stood outside her mother’s tent. The
tent she’d shared for weeks before her capture by the
Talons. Before she’d been stolen away to a whole new life.

It looked smaller than she remembered. Dingier around the

edges, like a faded painting.
When she drew back the flap, she found Mother crouched
over a mug of mint brew, a crude hand-drawn map spread
before her. Zofi watched, and her eyes

began to sting.

I’m back, she wanted to say. The words stuck in her throat.

Mother bent closer to the page and spoke without looking

up. “Either ask me for whatever you need, or close the flap.
You’re letting all the vampyre flies in.”

Zofi stepped forward and let the tent flap shut. Cleared her
throat. But the lump only grew, until it threatened to make
the sting in her eyes spill over into tears.

Finally, Mother looked up.

“Oh, sands alive. Zofi.” Mother sprang to her feet, and Zofi
barely had time to extend her arms before Mother pulled
her into a hug so tight it was difficult to breathe.

That was fine. She didn’t need air. Not right now. She buried
her face in Mother’s neck. Much to her embarrassment, a
couple of tears escaped to wet Mother’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, baby.” Mother kissed her cheek once. Twice. A

third time. Then she pulled back just far enough to start
kissing her other cheek.

Zofi squirmed out of her arms. “Mother,” she groaned, even

as she wiped her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“What are you doing here?” Mother kicked some stray

camping supplies off her sitting mat and gestured at the
pillow. Zofi sank onto it, and Mother sat so close their knees
knocked.
The story poured out of Zofi. The blackmail, the heir, the
threats. Her banishment. “I failed,” she finished in a
whisper. “I couldn’t play their game.

Not well enough to win.”

To her surprise, Mother laughed, albeit gently. “Nobody

expected you to win, Zofi.”

She snorted, then accepted a handkerchief to press against

her nose. “Gee, thank you, Mother. That makes me feel so
much better.”

“What I mean is you had the deck stacked against you from
the outset. You went to court, you met your father’s family,
played the hand life dealt you.

Now… I’m just glad to have you back home.”

Oh, right. Belatedly, she remembered she was mad at her

mother. “Why didn’t you tell me about any of this? My
father, my bloodline, the throne…”

Mother sighed. “I won’t insult you by saying that your father

asked me not to, although he did. And I won’t say it was for
Traveler tradition either, because the situation was more
complicated. But, Zofi, whatever I think about your father’s
decisions, he had a point here. If nobody knew you existed,
nobody

could hunt you. And people would have, believe me. Your
blood alone would fetch more on the black market than our
band has earned in decades.”

“Again, you always know how to make me feel better,” she

muttered. Then she leaned forward. “Even now, Mother, you
aren’t telling me everything.”
“If I told you every secret I have, Zofi, we’d both be sitting in
this tent until we died of old age.” Mother smiled, though
she sobered when Zofi didn’t join her.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re a curseworker?”

Her mother hesitated. Only for a split second, yet it was

enough. Then she laughed and raised her tea mug. “Would
you like some? Fresh-picked mint, from just down the
swamp.”

“Mother.” Though she did take the mug and drink, deeply. It
stung on the way down. Mother must have laced it with a
little something extra.

“I’ve been a lot of things in my life, Zofi.” Mother watched

her closely. “Not all of which I’m proud of. But first and
foremost, I’m your mother. And while I hope I’m your friend
as well, being a mother—it’s not like being friends with
somebody. There are certain things you don’t share with
your children, dangerous things.…”

“Spare me the lecture, Mother. It’s true, isn’t it?” She eyed
the silver scar on her mother’s face, so familiar that to Zofi
it seemed a part of her skin. Like something she’d been
born with. “Didn’t you trust me enough to tell me?”

“Zofi, darling, of course I trust you. It’s the rest of the world I
don’t. If someone learned what I am, I wanted you to have a
clean conscience. They couldn’t arrest you for covering up
an illegal business you had no idea existed.”

“So you put the whole band in danger to sell curses at black
markets?”

“Some of the band know,” Mother said, and if Zofi thought

the betrayal hurt before, that was nothing to the sting of it
now.

“Who?” She scowled.

“A few elders. Enough people to cover my tracks and get the

rest of you to safety if I was ever taken. Look, it doesn’t
matter who knew, Zofi. It was never about that. Or about
money. It’s about doing what’s right. Sharing knowledge, the
way Travelers have always done. I help people with
cursework, yes. Rarely, and only when I see true need.”

“Is that why you helped Akeylah?”

Her mother frowned. “Who?”

“An Eastern girl,” Zofi said. “Red hair, on the tall side,
quiet… She said you helped her curse her abusive father.”

Mother’s frown remained. “I did help a girl who fits that

description. My first commission in a long time. But anyone
would’ve done it. You only had to take one look at her
bruises to feel for her.”

Zofi searched her mother’s expression. “So you didn’t know,

then, who she really was.”

“Zofi, what are you talking about? How did you come to
meet this girl?”

“She’s Andros’s daughter,” Zofi replied. “My half sister.”

For a moment, Mother didn’t react. Then her face crumpled,

as the realization struck. “Sands,” she groaned under her
breath. “That’s why—”

“Why Father summoned us bastards, yes,” Zofi interrupted.

“He’s dying.
Akeylah was raised like me—ignorant of her background.
She thought she was cursing her abuser.”

Mother shut her eyes. “That poor girl. And Andros, gods,
what have I done?

A death like that, there’s so much pain.…”

Zofi sat forward. “Help me, Mother. There has to be some

way to fix this. A countercurse.”

“Not one you could perform,” Mother said. “Because you did
not work the initial curse. But Akeylah can. It takes a great
deal of the Arts, and it may be too late—”

“Just write down how it’s done.” Zofi dug through Mother’s
trunk until she found writing supplies. Tossed a quill in her
direction. “If there’s any chance of saving him, Akeylah will
take it.”

Mother hesitated. Then she flashed Zofi another look,

expression unreadable.

“What?” Zofi asked as she flung some paper and an inkwell

her mother’s way.

“I just can’t believe you’re home.”

A strange sensation flooded her, as she watched her mother

write the instructions.

Being back here didn’t feel unusual. Everything remained

the same—the people, this tent. Even Mother, with her
countless secrets, was the same person she’d always been.

But Zofi wasn’t.

And much as she wanted it to, the word home no longer
quite described this place.

15

Akeylah

Rozalind can’t be the heir. She recited the refrain over and
over as she strode through the Keep, until it became a sort
rhythmic prayer. She can’t.

The Vulgar Arts left scars. Akeylah would have seen them on
Rozalind’s body.

But it had been dark, the night they’d finally lain together.
And while she’d seen plenty of the queen, she hadn’t
exactly studied every inch. How noticeable had her own scar
been that night? She didn’t remember.

Other memories chased that one. Rozalind arguing to keep

Zofi imprisoned.

Wanting to put Ren on trial. Rozalind’s reaction when

Akeylah admitted she’d cursed Andros—the queen had
seemed surprised, but had she been that shocked, given
what Akeylah confessed?

She thought about the tithing. When Rozalind first showed

Akeylah her ability, Akeylah thought Rozalind was sharing a
huge secret with her. It made her trust Roz, drew them
closer.

In reality, Rozalind had been lying all along.

She was carrying Father’s child.

Akeylah’s stomach churned. Surged. She clamped a hand

over her mouth just in time to hold the sickness in. A
passing servant shot her a look of concern, but Akeylah
waved him away, soldiered on down the hall.

Rozalind had hidden her pregnancy from everyone. Even

from Akeylah.

What else is she hiding?

Akeylah thought about her most recent message. The

puppet so carefully designed, in a gown just like the one
Rozalind’s tailor sewed for her. Dearest Akeylah, the heir
wrote. One might even say you’re my favorite. It sounded

almost tender, compared to the other threats.

The heir promised to protect her if she played the puppet

right. Was this Rozalind’s idea of leniency? Maybe she liked
Akeylah just enough to make her a pet. A girl to warm her
bed while Rozalind ruled the Reaches.

She felt sick all over again. She had to stop, press her
forehead against a window, and take several deep breaths.

By the time she made it back to the king’s chambers, she

had herself under control. At least, so she thought. Until
Rozalind greeted her, face drawn with worry.
“The mender’s here,” Rozalind said the instant the doors
closed. “It doesn’t look good.”

Are you carrying his child? Akeylah wanted to scream the

question. Sob it.

Are you the one tormenting us?

She swallowed the cry. Followed Rozalind to the bedside

with difficulty.

“What happened?” Her voice sounded odd. Curious and

detached.

“I couldn’t get him to swallow any water at lunch,” Rozalind

said.

A week or two, the mender told them a week ago. Still no

word from Zofi. No cure.

“It won’t be long now, I’m afraid.” The mender released

Andros’s wrist with a sigh. “I won’t be surprised if he goes
tonight. Maybe tomorrow morning or evening at the latest.
Some people hang on in cases like this. But I would stay
close, ladies.”

“There’s nothing we can do?” Akeylah’s voice cracked.

“Only make him as comfortable as possible.”

She closed her eyes. They’d failed. All those books she’d
read, stacks upon stacks in the library. All Zofi’s efforts,
come to nothing.

And Akeylah had no one to blame but herself. She did this.
She killed her own father.
“Call me if there are any other changes,” the mender
whispered, then ducked out.

Akeylah heard the rustle of Rozalind’s skirts as she

approached. “You should stay here today,” Rozalind
murmured. “If there’s anything urgent, I’ll handle it.”

Why, so you can get some practice taking his place? His heir
should be the one handling any urgent concerns. Was that
what Rozalind hoped to do now?

Akeylah squeezed her eyes shut. She feared if she looked at

the queen, she wouldn’t be able to stop. She’d stare and
stare until she couldn’t hold it in anymore, until she
screamed for the truth. Tell me you’re not carrying my

father’s child. Tell me you aren’t the one cursing my sisters

and me.

“Akeylah.”

“Yes?” Akeylah asked after a beat.

“What’s wrong?”

“My father is dying,” she replied, voice hollow. “Am I not

allowed to grieve?”

“Of course you can. I’m grieving, too. I care about Andros.
But… look at me, please.”

Akeylah finally looked up.

Rozalind stepped closer. “Did something happen when you

visited Florencia this morning? You seem… angry.”

Akeylah turned her face to the wall instead. “Rozalind—”

“Talk to me.” Rozalind touched her bare arm. The contact
made Akeylah’s skin tingle.

Her eyes burned. “There’s no fixing this.”

Rozalind’s hand dropped away. “No. All we can do now is be

here for him.”

“I’m not talking about my father,” Akeylah spat. The

vehemence in her tone surprised even her. But she leaned
into it.

Anger was easier to handle than sorrow. Than pain. Than the
crushing weight of the realization that the girl she trusted,
the girl she’d fallen for, the girl she’d just begun to realize
she loved… had been lying to her all along.

She clenched her fists so hard her nails dug into her palms.
“Are you pregnant, Rozalind?”

The queen’s face shuttered at once, like a trader’s house

with boards suddenly nailed over the windows. Rozalind tore
her gaze from Akeylah. Stared at Andros instead.

“Seas below.” Akeylah shoved away. “So it’s true. You’re

carrying my… my father’s child?” Her throat tightened. Her
stomach churned again, sick with grief, nauseated at the
idea.

Half of her wanted Rozalind to deny it. Claim it was another

affair.

Something, anything.

But Roz shrank in on herself. Deflated. “It happened three

months ago. Long before you came here, Akeylah, and I
swear, the moment I learned I was pregnant I stopped lying
with him. Gods, even before that, we barely ever…”

Akeylah sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth. “You’ve

been hiding it from me this whole time, and that’s supposed
to make me feel better?”

“I’ve hidden it from everybody. Even your father didn’t

know. Doesn’t

know.”

“Why in Mother Ocean’s name not?” Akeylah flung her arms

wide. “You could have saved us all of this. He need never
have brought me to court, or my sisters; I’d still be at home,
ignorant of my heritage—” She stopped short. And still
pinned under the thumb of an evil man who hated me.

Rozalind shook her head, hard. “No, Akeylah, I… Andros and

I got pregnant once before, a year ago. I lost the child a
couple months in. He was so heartbroken, I couldn’t… I
couldn’t bear to tell him again. Not until I was certain the
baby would survive this time.” She winced. “Then he fell ill,
and I thought…

Well, imagine the chaos if he passed away and I lost this

child, too. Who would inherit? This way, I thought you three
could be—”

“Your backup options?” Akeylah hissed.

“Yes,” Rozalind admitted in a whisper.

Akeylah stared.

She wanted to believe it. Wanted to believe the only thing

Rozalind had lied about was the baby. That was bad enough.
But now… how could she trust anything the queen said?

“Was any of it true?” Akeylah’s lips trembled. “Anything you

ever said to me?”

Rozalind flinched as though she’d been struck. “Akeylah.

Yes, everything…

everything you and I have, that’s true. I should have told

you about all this from the start, I know, but I was afraid it
would change things between us, and that’s… You’re the
only thing in the world I’m sure about right now.”

She shook her head. Took one step backward, then another.
“How can I trust you? If you were willing to hide this, what
else are you keeping from me?”

“Nothing, I swear—”

“Seas below. Ren was right.” Her heart clenched like a fist.
“I don’t even know you.”

Rozalind’s eyes shone in the dim light. “Akeylah, please…”

She never finished the sentence. A deafening shriek

interrupted, like the stormwing horns the Talons used on the
practice fields, only much louder.

The outer doors burst open. Talons stormed the room. “What
was that?” one barked.

Akeylah blinked in surprise. “I was about to ask you the

same thing.”

The shriek sounded again, closer. It almost sounded as

though it were coming from…
“Stand back, my lady,” one guard advised while the other
crossed to the

window, still hung with heavy blackout drapes, to conceal

the king.

The Talon yanked back the curtain.

Outside, the largest bird Akeylah had ever seen perched on

the balcony. Its razor-sharp talons curled around the
stonewood railing, and it cocked its head to one side,
curious. A stormwing. She’d never seen one this close
before.

As they all stared, the bird let out another piercing shriek
and extended one leg. Only then did Akeylah notice the
metal tube tied above its talon.

The guard opened the window and unbound the tube, as

though this were perfectly normal. “Message for you, Lady
Akeylah,” he said with a glance at the side.

Akeylah stepped forward to accept it. The metal felt cold as

ice under her fingertips—probably from the height at which
the bird flew, far above the clouds. On the outside, her
name was scrawled in messy handwriting. No titles.

Just Akeylah.

“Zofi,” she breathed.

Akeylah read and reread Zofi’s mother’s note half a dozen

times. Deena said she’d need to use the same scar. Reopen
it to work the curse again, but in reverse this time. Where
before, she’d been planting a seed, now she needed to tear
that plant out by its roots.

In theory, it should work. Just one problem—Akeylah had

shielded that morning. It wouldn’t wear off until dawn.

By the time Akeylah had finished committing Deena’s

instructions to memory, it was well past sunset, but the
mender had said Andros was fading fast.

Akeylah knelt at his bedside. “Hold on, Father,” she

whispered. “Please.”

On the far side of the chambers, Rozalind sat behind the

king’s desk, watching. Akeylah couldn’t stop thinking about
Ren’s warning not to let the queen out of her sight. If
Rozalind was the heir, she couldn’t do anything with Akeylah
a few feet away. Not unless Rozalind wanted to let all her
secrets slip out at once.

Still, just because she had to be in the same room didn’t

mean Akeylah needed to acknowledge the queen’s
existence.

They spent the night like that. Akeylah kneeling beside her
father, counting his every breath with her own held.
Rozalind perched at his desk, until

exhaustion overtook her, and she laid her head down to

sleep on the hard stonewood surface.

The only break Akeylah took from their standoff had been to
pen a quick note to Ren, to reassure her sister they had a
cure, an end goal in sight. Father only needed to hang on for
a few more hours, until she could perform it.
Finally, after the longest night of her life, predawn light
painted the curtains.

Akeylah crossed to the desk first. Satisfied the queen was

still asleep, Akeylah tiptoed past her into the bathing
chamber.

Please, Mother Ocean, let this work, she thought as she

knelt on the tile floor and gripped her bloodletter in a
trembling fist.

The pain was worse than she remembered. When she

reopened the scar on her thigh, sparks exploded in her
vision, and her breath came so sharp she thought she might
faint.

She didn’t.

She ignored the pain flaring at every nerve ending. Focused

her mind instead, the way she’d done on the beach months
ago.

It was easier this time. Easier to look past her own

bloodstream, to turn with that extra sense and survey the
other bodies nearby—her close relatives. Siblings and
parents.

This time, she counted the bodies.

She couldn’t see any features, of course. Not faces or body

shapes or anything identifiable. Only people’s insides.
Hearts, veins, muscles, nerves. Yet she noticed, now that
she knew what to look for, subtle differences.

Andros was easy to find. His veins ran black with the curse
she’d planted.
She could smell it on him—vomit and bedpans, nostalgia
and regret.

But there were other shapes in the darkness. Other

relatives.

She recognized Zofi first. Her veins ran hotter than anyone
else’s, the blood brighter, the pulse faster. She smelled like
running on a windy beach, or diving off a cliff into the sea.

Florencia’s blood ran slower, smelled of perfumed dances

and sly sideways smiles.

And beside Ren, another presence. Vast and wild, dancing

around the edge of her perception. This person felt harder
to sense, almost… hidden. She couldn’t see their veins or
heart or pulse. The scent, however, was harder to mask.
This thing smelled familiar. Like sweat and fistfights and
screaming at the top of your lungs, The world is so damned
wrong.

She tore her mind from the black hole of that presence,
refocused on the task

at hand. Healing Father.

Akeylah concentrated on his outline. She reached into his

blackened veins, and groaned as the stench filled her
nostrils, invaded her mouth. He tasted of bile, of guilt and
loneliness. She wanted to puke. She wanted to lie down and
die alongside him.

Last time, this part had been simple. She’d planted a seed—
a tiny drop of cursed blood. Now, she had to rip up a whole
root system. Tear out the venomous plant she’d grown in
him.
Her forehead creased in concentration.

The curse wove through his veins. It had grown enormous,

from that one drop. She reached for his body as though
pushing through a membrane, until her fingertips curled
around the black poison.

It was slippery, hard to grasp. She raised both hands, wound

the curse’s roots around her knuckles and pulled.

Somewhere in the distant corner of her mind still connected

to reality, she heard a shout of pain from the adjacent room.

She ignored it, yanked harder. Threw all her weight into this,
fists clenched so tight they shook, her whole body leaning
away from her father’s. She channeled all her weight and
focus behind the movement.

She felt the curse begin to give. The black web creaked, and
a few tendrils snapped. In those places, she glimpsed clean
red bloodstream, Father’s veins beginning to return to
normal.

Underneath the regret-rot scent of the curse, she caught

whiffs of another scent. A smell like sunrise on a craggy cliff
or an overstrong abraca brew. She gritted her teeth,
wrenched at that black web again. This time, she couldn’t
tell whether the cry of pain came from herself or her father.
But she bent into it, pulled and pulled and pulled until, with
a sharp cracking sensation, the curse broke.

Akeylah fell backward, and the world slammed into view.

The tile floor, dotted with her blood. The glow from her scar,
twice as bright now, lighting the whole room.

She moaned. It hurt.

But Akeylah was used to pain.

She tugged her knees to her chest. Curled around her

wound, and let the pain sweep her away. At some point, cool
arms wrapped around her, lifted her up. It took all her
remaining energy just to open one eye.

Rozalind was carrying her to bed. Then her eyelids fluttered

shut, and she

forgot about anything but sleep.

16

Florencia

Day five of her confinement crawled.

Over a week had passed since Zofi left, since Father fell
unconscious. Last night, Akeylah sent word that she had the
cure in hand. Ren prayed for good news. Sun knew they
needed it.

As for Ren, she couldn’t stop turning the latest discovery

over in her mind.

Rozalind. A princess of Genal and a queen of Kolonya. A

queen who might be carrying Andros’s only surviving
legitimate child. If so, then the words true heir described
Rozalind’s unborn child better than anyone else in the
Reaches.
But why hide her pregnancy from the king? That was the
one piece of the puzzle Ren couldn’t snap into place.

Why bring the girls to court only to drive them away again?

She was spared from chasing that question in circles late in

the afternoon, when a visitor arrived with her dinner.

Ren waited until the Talons left before she embraced her
friend. “How are you?”

Audrina laughed, her breath stirring Ren’s already messy

hair. “You’re caged inside your own bedroom and you ask
how I’m doing?” The girls broke apart, and Ren surveyed her
friend while Audrina laid out the dinner tray she’d brought
with her.

Aud wore another new dress, jet-black with long sleeves.

Darker than Aud usually preferred, though it was still within
the parameters set for maids’ outfits.

Nice, but not too nice.

Can’t have the ladies you serve feeling inadequate.

Ren smiled when she spotted the contents of the dinner

tray. Audrina had

brought all of her favorites—globe fruit, Lyra the cook’s

specialty bread, a fluffy white variety only the nobles were
allowed. Even a pot of bright-yellow Northern curry topped
with hackley leaf. “Isn’t this out of season?” Ren reached for
a spoon to stir the hackley into the thick, creamy stew.

“Lyra owed me a favor. Anyway, you’re a lady now, you can

eat whatever you want.”
“I’m a prisoner; I’m pretty sure I’m not allowed any such
considerations.

Besides, I thought we agreed not to give each other special

treatment anymore.”

Ren raised an eyebrow.

“This doesn’t count,” Audrina protested. “I’m just

comforting a friend in need.” She peered around Ren’s
chambers with a groan. “Sun above, Ren. I can’t believe
your tormenter went so far as to invent a tale this immense.
Is there no way to prove your innocence?”

Ren shut her eyes.

After a minute, Audrina let out a slow breath. “I see. The

accusation is true.”

Ren swallowed around a lump in her throat. “I would have

told you, Aud, but I couldn’t bear the thought of my only
real friend left hating me.”

“How could I hate you?” Audrina cocked her head. “I know

you, Ren. You care about this country. If you were willing to
turn against Kolonya, you must have had good reason.”

Ren pursed her mouth. “Just the same tall redheaded reason
I do anything foolish.”

“Now, him I hate.” Audrina crossed her arms. “Is Danton

working for the rebellion? You should use that as leverage—
clear your name and lock him up instead.”

“I can’t do that,” Ren said, voice low. “Me, my father might

spare. An outer Reach ambassador, they’d hang.”
“Well, he should have considered that before he betrayed
Kolonya. We give him a place to live in the Keep, offer him a
cushy ambassadorship, and this is his thanks?”

Ren ran a hand through her hair. “He didn’t know the
rebellion would take things as far as they did. He just
wanted to help his Reach—and so did I. The rebels are
terrible, but so is what we’ve done to the other Reaches.
Despite everything… I can’t watch him die for me.”

Audrina swore softly. “You still love him.”

“No, I…” But the denial died on her lips. Right now, with
nobody but her best friend to hear, Ren couldn’t keep lying.
Not even to herself.

Her shoulders sagged. Everything he’d done, every decision

he made—

helping the rebellion, offering to take the fall for her, Sun
above, even his sham marriage to Lexana. Those were all
decisions Ren would have made, too, in his shoes. If
Lexana’s dowry would’ve been large enough to support his
Reach for months, how could she blame him for wanting it?

Danton was like her—once he set his heart on a goal, he’d

stop at nothing to achieve it. Like when Ren swore she’d
raise herself up out of the servants’

chambers.

Look at me now. She’d lifted herself out of that muck, all

right. Straight into a sinkhole.

“My mind and his work the same way,” Ren finally
answered. “I love him the way I love myself—I can’t help it,
in spite of all the terrible decisions I make.”
Audrina sighed. “Just remember, love clouds our judgments,
Ren. It lures us into forgiving sins that ought never to be
pardoned.” Audrina’s fists tightened, and suddenly it
occurred to Ren that her friend wasn’t talking about Danton
anymore.

“I’m doing it again,” Ren said. “Only talking about myself.

How are you, Aud?”

For a moment, Ren thought her friend might actually

respond. Then Audrina reached for Ren’s bread. “Oh, just
the usual. Work, babysitting noblewomen…”

“Really?” Ren arched a brow. Audrina grimaced, and Ren

took a guess.

“Your parents?” They were a constant point of contention in

her friend’s life.

They never approved of anything Aud did. Growing up,

they’d always complained they shouldn’t have had her, that
she cost more trouble than she was worth. Even after she
came to work in the Keep, they remained unimpressed—

she could never work hard enough to earn their favor.

Audrina turned the bread over and over in her hands.

“Things are actually better with my mother now. But my
father…” She drew in a sharp breath. “I just want him to say
he’s proud of me, just once.”

“Sun damn him if he can’t see what a caring person you

are.” Ren reached for her hand. “You don’t need the
approval of a man like that. You’ve got friends who love you
like family.”
A ghost of a smile appeared on Audrina’s face. “Thanks,
Ren.”

“No, thank you for putting up with me. And for giving me
another chance when I was being such a self-involved jerk.”

Audrina’s smile widened. “I’d give you a million chances.

But I’ll also tell you if you’re being a jerk—that’s what
friends are for.”

Ren couldn’t help but laugh. “I need that reality check these
days.”

“No headway, then, on figuring out who’s been doing all

this?” Audrina frowned.

“None. Just… well.” Ren tilted her head. “Did you know
Rozalind is pregnant? My mother told me rumors have been
circulating through the maids.”

Audrina’s jaw dropped. “I didn’t, no. Then again, I rarely talk

to the other girls—Sun above, if she’s carrying your half
sibling… do you think it could be her?”

“It’s possible. But I don’t understand why. Apparently Andros

doesn’t know she’s with child, but if she’d just told him, my
sisters and I need never have been dragged into this.”
Aud tore off a fresh piece of bread and chewed for a
moment. “Well, there’s the obvious explanation. She’s
Genalese.” Audrina said it as though this explained
everything. When Ren didn’t respond, Audrina gestured
impatiently.

“She’s a princess of Genal. Her child is the potential heir to

the Sun Throne.

That baby would be eligible for both the Kolonyan and

Genalese thrones. And what does Genal want more than
anything?”

“To reconquer the Reaches…” Ren said slowly.

“Four hundred years of wars haven’t achieved that. But

what if Rozalind found a way to do it without bloodshed?
What if her father the king sent her here, under the guise of
forming a peace treaty, with this goal in mind all along?”

“It still doesn’t explain why she would let Andros publicly
acknowledge us.

We’re the competition. Our very existence undermines her

claim on the throne.”

“Exactly.” Audrina nodded as though Ren had just proven

her point. “If she let you all stay hidden, someday you might
rise up to bite her in the backside.

Especially if she makes moves to do something hugely

unpopular, like reinstating Genalese rule over the Reaches.
Better to get you three out in the open now. Ruin your
reputations, destroy you publicly, so there’s nobody with
even a hint at a counterclaim. Then, when she takes the
throne, Kolonya is out of options. The country has no choice
but to follow her into any mess she wants.”

Ren let the idea digest. “Sun above. And if Father dies now,
she won’t even need to wait for the child to grow up. She’d
become regent in the baby’s stead.”

Audrina lifted one shoulder, let it fall. “It’s what I would do,
in her shoes.

The best option is to become the only option.”

Ren’s expression darkened. “Not if we can help it.”

17

Zofi

To celebrate Zofi’s return, a huge bonfire had been built in a

clearing of the swampland, on high ground. Massive torches
burned around the outer rim, each one laced with sweet-
smelling fruit peels to keep the vampyre flies at bay. Even
now, with Essex-set approaching, the party was still going
strong. Every Traveler in the band had come out, though a
few rotated back to the campsite on watch, making sure not
to leave it entirely unguarded.

Zofi’s heart ached. If she seemed insecure, a little out of

place and not quite home yet, nobody seemed to mind.
They kept her drinking horn full and her plate overflowing,
and no one asked what had happened in Kolonya. Her band
knew Zofi would only talk once she felt ready.
As for her other home, well, the stormwing had flown back
to Vidal at sunset, holster empty, letter delivered. Akeylah
must have received the cure. She would either work it or
not. Andros would recover or he wouldn’t.

None of that was Zofi’s concern anymore. Kolonya was

another lifetime, one she needed to forget.

She’d grown up on the move, leaving town after town in the

dust. Why did this feel so much more difficult?

She whirled across the dance floor, trading partners every

few bars of the song that Ina and Kant fiddled. Off to the
side, little Pyra had picked up her mother’s flute to join in,
and Zofi was startled at how good the girl had grown in just
the few weeks Zofi had been away.

What else has changed?

She pushed the thought to the back of her mind and

grabbed Bette’s hand to swing across the muddy, trampled
grass. Her breath came short, half from the

dancing, half from laughter. When Bette finally swung her to

a halt, she stumbled off to the side, dizzy. There, she
spotted Norren’s partner, Rull, teaching Vidal the jump-twist.

Or trying to.

“No, no, left foot first, watch me.” Rull demonstrated again,
making sure to move slow enough that Vidal could trace the
individual steps.

Vidal hopped left foot first this time, but when it came to the
twist, he stumbled off-balance and nearly collided with little
Pyra midnote. “Sorry!” he blurted, and backed away, one
hand clamped over his mouth.
In the other, he held a drinking horn. A large one.

Zofi burst out laughing. He spun to glare at her, and she

pointed at his feet.

“What happened to the suave dancer I met in the sky

gardens, hmm?” she called.

“He drank a lot less—what did you call this again?” Vidal
shook the horn. A few drops of Heine’s clear moonshine
splashed onto an innocent passerby. “Oh, Sun above, I
apologize.”

“He’s never tried moonshine,” Zofi explained to the woman,

a local from the town where they were camped.

“Oh, I don’t mind.” The woman scanned him up and down, a

small grin touching her lips. “I do not mind one bit.” She
sidled closer. “Tell me, handsome, are you spoken for?”

Now it was Zofi’s turn to press a hand over her mouth, to

stifle her grin.

Vidal glanced from the woman to Zofi and back again,

blinking fast. “Um…

I… er… Am I?” he added with a confused glance in Zofi’s

direction.

“You tell me,” Zofi replied, eyes bright with amusement.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” the villager said with a quick wink at
Zofi.

Zofi practically skipped to Vidal’s side to pluck the drinking

horn from his fingers. “Let me guess. You filled it to the
brim?” She peered inside and cursed.
Only a few drops remained.

“Isn’t that what you do with…” Vidal hiccupped. “With

cups?”

“Not these ones.” Zofi laughed. “And certainly not when it’s
moonshine filling ’em. Come on. Let’s get you tucked into
bed.” Zofi offered an arm.

“It tastes like paint,” he complained as he looped his arm

around her neck. “I much prefer strongwine.”

“I’ll bet.” She wrapped her other arm around his waist and
began the slow plod toward the campsite, about half a mile
through the swamps. She hoped there weren’t any
particularly narrow or precarious bridges along the way or
Vidal might wind up face-first in that swamp.

“Need a hand?” Rull offered, but Zofi just handed him

Vidal’s empty horn.

“We’ll manage. You go have fun.”

They made it a few yards before Vidal stopped to peer over

his shoulder. The motion threw them both off-balance, and it
took Zofi a minute to right them once more. “Your people
are nice,” Vidal said. Or slurred, rather. “I didn’t…

expect…”

“Didn’t expect them to welcome a Talon so easily?” She

smirked. “Me neither, truth be told. I guess my word carries
more weight than I thought.”

“Everybody loves you.” His voice rose louder.

“Evvverybody.”
“Well. They’re my family. They have to,” she joked. She
tugged him back into motion, and together they swayed
across the first wooden bridge between here and home.

“Some like you… more than family.” His voice went low.

Her heart throbbed. She didn’t need to ask. She knew what
he meant.

She’d spent all evening dodging Elex. She hadn’t felt ready
to talk yet, even though she’d caught him approaching more
than once. She kept pulling Bette or another Traveler out
onto the dance floor instead and pretending not to notice
him.

It was a conversation she didn’t even understand how to

begin.

“If you mean Elex…” Zofi started.

Vidal nodded so hard they nearly tripped sideways off the

bridge.

“Whoa, hold it together.” Zofi caught him around the waist.

Swung him to a halt. They stood face-to-face—or, well, her
face to his chest. He was so much taller than her. But he
bent closer, and the Noxlight caught his eyes. Made that
muddy hazel-brown color seem deep and dark as the marsh
they stood above.

“I saw him watching you, Zofi. Every time you started to

dance, or every time you were talking to somebody else.
Anytime he didn’t think you’d notice.”

“Vidal,” she whispered.

“Look, I’m not an idiot.” He ran a hand across his eyes.
“You’ve got history, that’s obvious. And I know whatever
happened with us… It was just one night with some guy you
hardly know; some guy from a whole different world. But
Zofi, I have to tell you.”

“You’re drunk, Vidal.” She caught his hands. Tried to tug him
toward camp.

“Let’s just go to bed.” She didn’t want to hear this. Not here,
not like this.

But Vidal didn’t move. Instead, he twisted his arm free of

her grasp, and touched her shoulder. Waited until she lifted
her gaze to his. “I want you to know it was real for me,
Zofi,” he said, voice soft and quiet. “You are real to me.

Whatever happens now, whatever you choose… I don’t

regret anything.”

Her breath slowed. Threatened to stop altogether when he

leaned in. His mouth was so damn close she could almost
taste him again, like clean hay and fresh-cut grass and
winning a fight. Her eyelids fluttered. Drifted shut. She felt
his eyelashes brush her cheek, his warm breath on her lips.

Someone coughed.

Vidal’s hands slipped off her arms. They both turned to find
Elex.

“Zofi. Vidal,” Elex added, a beat too late. Like an

afterthought.

Vidal took another step backward. “Zofi, I’ll see you back at
camp?”
“Wait,” she started to say, worried about his balance on
these swamp bridges.

But Vidal had already retreated across the first, and his gait
seemed far steadier now. The fresh air must be helping.
That or the head rush of what he’d just said to her.

You are real to me.

“Sorry,” Elex said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

After a minute of silence, Zofi cleared her throat. “You

didn’t,” she lied, unconvincingly.

“A Talon, huh?” Elex raised a single bemused eyebrow.

“He’s not like most Talons,” Zofi said, dodging the question.
“He’s really open-minded, and he’s nice, and…” And part of
me is worried I might break his heart.

“I’m not judging.” Elex raised one shoulder, let it fall. “He
seems… yeah.

Nice.”

Zofi walked to the side of the wooden bridge. This one was
only a few feet wide, so she wanted to leave room for any
passersby. She sat on the edge and let her feet dangle
above the marsh. “Sorry for avoiding you,” she said.

After a pause, Elex sat beside her. “Are you ready to tell me
what happened back in Kolonya? You said you needed some
drinks first; your breath smells like it might be time.”

She snorted. “Maybe a few drinks past time,” she admitted,

though the cool night air had dimmed the spin in her head
to a lower, pleasant hum.
“When I left, you were being blackmailed.…” Elex watched
her carefully.

“They told the king what I did. I’ve been banished from
Kolonya.” She shut her eyes to avoid his stare. “Learning
about it may very well have been my father’s last act. He
fell sick afterward, and as far as I know, he hasn’t woken
since.”

“Sands, Zo.”

When she opened her eyes again, the pity on his face nearly
killed her.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“I already know how terrible the situation is; I don’t need

you feeling sorry for me on top of it.”

“That’s not sorrow you’re seeing, it’s guilt.” Elex’s voice

dipped so low that Zofi looked at him, startled. “It’s my fault
you’re in this mess. If I hadn’t provoked the prince that night
—”

“Don’t you dare.” She grabbed his chin, turned his face
toward hers.

“Nicolen—” She cast a quick glance around, remembering

too late that there were villages around here, other people
dotting these marshes. But she saw nobody in hearing
distance. Just a few figures silhouetted against the fire,
fields away.

Still, when she spoke again, her voice was lower. “Nicolen
was a horrible person. Half brother or not, I’d do what I did a
million times over if it meant saving you, Elex. And it was
my decision to attack him, I’ll remind you. You can’t
shoulder responsibility for my mistakes without stealing my
victories from me, too.”

“But your father—”

“I got along just fine without him my entire life.” She

flinched, though, when she said the words. Her hardened
voice lost some of its edge. “I wish I could have known him
better, but I’ll take what little time I got. Better that than
none at all.”

“And the rest of it? The throne, your sisters?”

She tried and failed to sound lighthearted. “No longer my

concern. My future’s here, with the band. Where I belong.”

Elex softened. Took her hands and laced her fingers through
his. He was warm, even in the chilly predawn air. “As nice as
it is to have you back, Zo, I feel like you’re not…” He
hesitated.

“Not what?”

“Not here.” He searched her gaze. “Just a couple weeks ago,

I begged you to leave Kolonya, come home with me. You
wouldn’t even consider it. What changed?”

“Well, the whole being banished thing, for a start.” She

laughed once, bitter, and twisted her hands from his.

He laughed, too, but with disbelief. “So that’s it? You’re

giving up, just like that. Since when do you take orders so
obediently?”
She scowled. “What do you want from me, Elex? First you
beg me to come back. Then I do, and you complain that I’m
here.”

“I want you to get what you want, Zo. I want you to win this
thing.

Remember? You promised me you would.”

“It’s over. I lost.”

Elex crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Why, because
they told you so?”

“What am I supposed to do, march back there and let them

hang me for murder?”

“Look, if you were here of your own free will, I’d welcome
you back with open arms. Sands, I’d be throwing you this
party myself. But you’re only here because you gave up. You
let them decide your fate. And that’s not you, Zo.” He
reached up to gently tug on a stray curl of hers, and the
graze of his finger tickled her skin. “You’re never going to be
happy like this. You’re never going to truly be home. Not
until you decide to be.”

She understood, then, the sorrow in his gaze. Felt it mirrored

in her own.

Because he was right, damn him. It’s why her homecoming

had felt ever so slightly off, why nothing here fit her
anymore, like a shoe she’d outgrown.

Because she didn’t choose this path herself.

“Elex…”
“When you love someone,” he said, and that word sent a
rush into her veins,

“you don’t hold them in a fist.” He held up a hand, palm

open to the night sky.

“You let them chase what their heart desires, because when
they’re happy, you will be, too.”

He stood, then, and she watched him go, heart sinking with
the realization.

This wasn’t home anymore. And wouldn’t be ever again, not

unless she was the one who decided to come here. Right
now, she was following someone else’s command.

She needed to take back the reins of her own life.

18

Akeylah

This is a role reversal,” a voice said, deep and sonorous, and

loud enough to wake her from a fitful dream.

Akeylah’s eyelids fluttered. Father? That can’t be right, she

thought as her memories flooded back. He was still
bedridden, unconscious. Dying.

Yet, when she finally managed to crack her eyelids, there he

sat, alive and well, in a heavily cushioned chair beside her
bed. He was even smiling.

“Father.” Her voice cracked. She levered herself up on an

elbow, and the king’s chambers swam around her. She was
in his bed. The freshly opened scar on her thigh throbbed.
An ache deeper than just the knife wound.

Andros held out a glass of water. “I’m the one who’s

supposed to be bedridden. Not my healthy young daughter.”
He tsked, though he nodded with approval when she took a
long drink.

The water burned going down. Everything burned—her

veins, her temples, even her eyeballs thudded in their
sockets. Her leg worst of all. It felt on fire, alight with pain.
She could almost sense the glow, brighter than ever. Had
her father seen it? Did he know?

“Your illness…” She hesitated.

His smile widened. “Is gone. From what I hear, I was well
beyond death’s doorstep. All the way to the entrance of the
Blessed Sunlands, when I was called back to this realm. A
miracle, my guards are calling it.” He checked over her
shoulder. The room was empty. He bent closer. “My wife and
the mender, on the other hand, tell me otherwise.”

Her face went hot. He must have seen the scar. Realized she
was the culprit.

This is it. He was going to imprison her like Ren. Or banish

her like Zofi.

“Father, I am so sorry—”

He held up a hand.
Or worse. Have her executed. She would deserve it. A
traitor’s death. She nearly killed him, after all. Her own
father.

“It took bravery to do what you did, Akeylah.”

She blinked. Whatever she’d anticipated, it wasn’t this. “I…”

“Rozalind told me how you researched night and day. That

you refused to stop until you found a tithe to heal a relative.
Healing another person’s body is, technically, a use of the
Vulgar Arts—the scar on your thigh should remind you of
that. Father Sun sent those marks so we’d know never to
tithe into another’s blood. But in this case…” He flashed a
quick wink. “I think we may make an exception.”

Oh. She dared to breathe again.

Rozalind didn’t tell him everything. He didn’t know Akeylah

was the reason he’d fallen ill in the first place.

“I’ve explained to the mender who treated you that a king

enjoys certain privileges,” Andros went on. “The privilege to
bend the rules, at least a little, when it pertains to his own
life. We’re going to keep this our little secret, with the
understanding you will never flout the Sun’s law again.” The
corner of his mouth rose. “Does that sound agreeable?”

“Of course, Father.” She ducked her head. Drank another

gulp of water to soothe her throat.

“Good. Now, I’m afraid the scar will last a lifetime—nothing

we can do about that. In the meantime, I have spoken to the
dean in charge of the University. I’d like you to enroll in
some basic courses. This knowledge you’ve stumbled across
may come in handy in other situations. Sun knows we ought
to review our categorization of Blood and Vulgar Arts
sometime soon—I’ll add it to the councils’ future agendas.”

Her head swam. She couldn’t think about the councils,

about anything except the miracle sitting beside her.

“I’m just grateful you’re all right, Father.” Akeylah smiled

through a sudden sting at the back of her eyes. Father. He
would fix all of this. He’d help them stop the heir. He’d calm
the nobility, restore order throughout the Keep. Or, seas,
throughout the whole Reaches.

Everything was going to be okay. They’d done it.

I fixed him.

“As am I, daughter.” He studied her. “I dreaded the thought

of dying too

soon. I left so many things unfinished, but you were my

greatest regret of all.

Not assuring my daughter’s place in the kingdom. At least I

am certain about it now.”

She struggled to sit upright, despite the throb in her skull.

“About what, Father?”

“My rightful heir.”

Her stomach flipped. No. “Father, about my sisters—”

“Rozalind has filled me in. Zofi obeyed your orders and

departed the kingdom quietly—for that I will spare her. As
for Florencia, the charges against her are too great to
ignore.”

“She’s innocent, Father.”

“Your loyalty to your family is a winning quality, Akeylah.”
He smiled, indulgent. “It’s why I’m certain I have made the
right decision. But in Florencia’s case, I am afraid your
loyalty is misplaced. Proofs against her continue to stack up,
though of course, her guilt and subsequent sentence must
be determined in a fair trial. Rozalind and I are discussing
the best time and place for that.”

Rozalind. Lying to the king about Akeylah’s scar, and now

encouraging him to name Akeylah his successor, to push
forward Ren’s trial. Was she doing this because she truly
believed Akeylah would be the right choice? Or did she have
other motives?

Being the favorite comes with certain responsibilities…

Akeylah steeled her spine. She was nobody’s puppet. “It

sounds as though Rozalind has done a thorough job of
updating you on everything that’s happened since you fell
ill, Father. But did she also tell you her own good news? You
may not need to name a successor after all.”

Her father froze. The wrinkles on his forehead deepened as

his brows climbed toward his hairline. “You mean…?”

“She’s with child.”

Andros leaned back in his chair. “But we’ve not… it’s

been…”

“She’s several months along,” Akeylah added. “She

admitted she didn’t tell you yet because she worried about
the child’s viability—”

“And I’m glad that she did not,” Andros said, stunning
Akeylah into silence.
Now it was her turn to stare wide-eyed.

“If she’d said something sooner, I would never have gotten

to know my other children.” He extended a hand, and she
took it, fighting a sudden lump in her throat. “I thought I
was doing the right thing, all those years ago. Hiding you

away from the Keep, safe in your ignorance. Now I realize

what a disservice I did, to you most of all, Akeylah, but to
your sisters, as well. Zofi may never have committed such
an atrocity; Florencia might have learned true loyalty for her
country.…”

Akeylah tried to imagine that. A life here with Andros. A life

without Jahen’s beatings. Without her siblings to follow his
lead, taunting and tormenting her.

She could have grown up surrounded by true family, by a

kind king who, albeit flawed, at least loved her.

Who would she be in that world? She’d never know.

But she liked who she was now. Who she’d grown into,
despite her hardships. “It’s enough to be here now, Father,”
Akeylah replied. “It’s enough to have this second chance.”

He smiled, the stormwing’s-feet at the corners of his eyes

wrinkling. “I’ll let you rest now, daughter. If you’re well
enough to be on your feet tomorrow, I think we should hold
a summit in the Great Hall. Confirm your acknowledgment
as my heir.”

She blinked in surprise. “But Rozalind—”

“If I learned anything during my illness, Akeylah, it is never
to trust in uncertainties. Rozalind and I have conceived a
child together before. We lost that child. I’d much prefer a
known quantity, a daughter I trust, to bear the title of heir
apparent.”

This was wrong. She couldn’t be queen. She barely held the
Keep together for one week. “Father, please, I am not the
right choice for this. I’m not ready—”

“The best leaders are those who accept the crown as a

burden rather than claim it as a prize. You are the best
choice, Akeylah. The only choice.” With that, he moved to
stand. But halfway from his seat, he groaned and reached
for a cane propped beside her bed.

“Father? Are you feeling all right?”

He waved her off. “It’s nothing. My usual aches and pains.”

His expression went wry. “Try never to age, Akeylah; it is not
a pleasant experience. But, I suppose it is better than the
alternative.”

He waved over his shoulder as he hobbled out.

Akeylah laid back on the cushions and stared up at the

ceiling of her father’s bedroom, wondering how in the world
she could accept the title of Andros’s heir, when a single
week of acting on his behalf had nearly destroyed her.

Akeylah slept straight through the afternoon and into the

next day. When she woke, she found a rack of gowns she
didn’t recognize, newly made and all in her size. Alongside
the gowns were instructions from her father to come to the
Great Hall as soon as she was ready.

Akeylah didn’t think she’d ever be ready.

Underneath Father’s message, she found a trio of letters
from Ren. No wonder—Ren must be desperate for news. A
pang of guilt struck. But Akeylah had been too exhausted to
even consider writing until now. Even just skimming the first
note, which begged Akeylah to send word about Father,
made her head throb and the writing swim across the page.

Akeylah set the letters aside and forced herself out of bed.

The countercurse had taken a toll. She walked with a limp,

favoring the leg she hadn’t abused. Her body felt stiff, run
dry.

She wasn’t shielded, she realized, belated. Yet the mere

thought of lifting a bloodletter made her nauseated. To
judge by the dullness in her senses, she doubted she could
have managed a tithe, anyway. She had no reserves left;
she’d spent everything on Father.

It was worth it. Her heart swelled at the memory of his

voice, his smile. Him telling her he was grateful for the
chance to know her.

Even the prospect of becoming his official heir scared her

less now that Father was back. She’d never experienced this
—having a parent to lean on, a role model. She had so many
questions to ask him. Now they’d finally have time.

She scribbled two quick, jubilant notes. One to Ren and one
to Zofi, the same contents in each. It worked. Father is well
again, stronger than ever. I am working to convince him of
your innocence. To judge by his conversation about wishing
he’d spent more time with his daughters, Akeylah felt
certain she could talk him into pardoning both Zofi and Ren,
given time.
She sent Ren’s letter with a serving boy, and Zofi’s with a
girl who promised to run it up to the aerie. Then she dressed
in the least ostentatious of the new gowns, a dark emerald
dress with half sleeves that set off her auburn hair to
perfection.

If this proved to be her first act as the heir apparent, she

wanted to strike the right note. Elegant but not over-the-top.

A pair of Talons waited outside Father’s chambers, and

Akeylah wondered briefly whether Father was maintaining
the heightened security because of his condition or because
he didn’t trust Florencia, even with her locked in her

chambers. The guards marched her all the way to the vast
double doors of the Great Hall. There they bowed and took
up positions outside, while Akeylah continued in.

It was early, so she didn’t see any other nobles here yet.
Just servants laying out place settings and arranging fruit
baskets.

She didn’t see her father either. But the dais at the head of
the room was set for three people, she noticed. That used to
be Andros, Rozalind, and Yasmin.

Now she’d take her aunt’s place.

A couple servers drifted close enough for Akeylah to

overhear their conversation. “I guess even kings and queens
have marital spats,” one man murmured.

“How long you wager before the Genalese madwoman

starts throwing plates?” the other snickered.

Somewhere in the distance came a crashing sound, and

both men cackled.
Akeylah didn’t hear anything else they said, because she
was already hurrying toward the sound, her nerves jangling.

Something was wrong.

Even kings and queens have marital spats. Where was

Rozalind? Akeylah had promised Ren she wouldn’t let the
queen out of her sight. Then she went and left Roz to her
own devices for two whole days.

She reached the back of the hall, which had fallen silent.
She froze, trying to figure out which of three passages to
take. Then a faint sob sounded from the rightmost corridor,
and Akeylah raced that way, heart rabbiting in her chest.

The short corridor led to an anteroom off the Great Hall. To

judge by the cloaks and scepters that lined the wall, it was a
dressing room of sorts, for royals to prepare before events.

Another sob drew her gaze past the fur cloaks and dress
crowns to the far side of the room. The world slowed. Her
heartbeat pounded in her ears, deafening.

Andros lay on the ground, mouth open in a silent scream.

Black spiderwebs wove under his skin, raised the veins on
his arms, crept up his neck. A curse, it had to be, though it
looked faster and far more painful than the one Akeylah had
used.

And there, beside him, skirts hiked up around her waist, a

bloodletter clenched in her fist, slick and red…

“Rozalind.” Akeylah forced the word out through frozen lips.

Everything inside her shut down.

The queen turned as if in slow motion. The blade dropped
from her fingertips, clattered across the stonewood floor.
Cherry stonewood, not so very different in color to the blood
staining it now.

On Rozalind’s thigh pulsed a vibrant blue scar, just like

Akeylah’s.

“Akeylah.” Rozalind’s voice cracked. Broke. “It’s not what it

looks like…”

“What have you done?” Akeylah whispered. Then Father

moaned aloud, and she forced herself to move. “Help!” she
shouted. The word echoed through the open door, into the
corridors. She dropped to her knees beside her father and
pulled his head onto her lap.

Andros stared up at her with horrible, empty eyes. He

groaned again, a sound like worlds crashing, kingdoms
burning. The blackness reached his chin, unfurled across his
face.

Akeylah grabbed her own bloodletter and dragged it across

her forearm, but she felt nothing. No taste of possibility, no
tingle of the Arts. The countercurse had run her dry.

“Someone help!” she screamed again, and finally, finally,

she heard running footsteps. “Father, please hold on,” she
begged.

He turned toward the sound of her voice. Suddenly, with a

surge of energy, Andros grabbed her wrist. His grip was
crushing, powerful. For a brief instant, his vision seemed to
clear. “Akeylah…”

“Save your strength, Father,” she whispered.

But he dragged her down until her ear was beside his
mouth. “Don’t… let her… use you.”

“Who, Father?” She turned to look at him. That’s when she

saw it. The moment the light faded from his eyes.

His hand slipped from her arm, and his head dropped
backward. She held a palm above his parted lips. No breath
warmed her fingers.

Boots crashed into the room. “It’s the king,” someone

shouted.

“Call the menders!”

Somewhere, bells clattered. But it was too late. She already

knew it, even as someone dragged her away from him, and
brown menders’ robes swirled into view.

Only then did she think to look. The rest of the world flooded
in, a dream she’d almost forgotten. She spun, searched
every corner.

Rozalind was nowhere to be seen.

19

Florencia

The bells alerted her first.

They started to toll before the first star appeared in the sky.
Hundreds of bells, all across the city, some large and
booming, others high-pitched and too bright-sounding for
the occasion. This kind of clamor could only signify one
thing.

The death of a king.

Ren launched from her window and snatched up Akeylah’s

letter. Reread it, as though her sister’s words could reverse
whatever had just gone wrong. Father is well again.

So why this death knell?

What went wrong? Ren wondered. The heir. Rozalind.

Nausea rocked through her. Even though she knew this

might happen, even with a week to brace for it, Ren hadn’t
really let herself believe they’d lose Father. Not so soon, not
without any instructions on how to carry on in his stead.

They needed more time.

It isn’t fair. Akeylah reversed the curse. He was improving.

Akeylah even hinted he might forgive Ren one day, or at
least hear her side of the story. Ren had felt hopeful today,
for the first time since being locked in here.

Now it all came crashing down.

Ren crossed to the doors and pounded on them. “Guards!

What’s going on out there?” she demanded when the Talons
didn’t respond.

“Keep’s on lockdown,” came a muffled reply. “Remain where

you are.”
As if that was any great change. “Why are they tolling the
bells? Is it my father?”

“We know as much as you do, my lady.” The guard’s tone

thickened with annoyance.

“Well, send a messenger to find out,” Ren snapped. Stony

silence was her only answer.

Frustrated, she stormed back to the window. Pressed her

face to the glass, and peered at the neighboring towers.
Specifically the cherry one. She watched shadowed figures
move across it, backlit by the windows on the few corridors
that faced outward.

Above the tower hung Nox, full and bright, its yellow light
usually her favorite of all the moons. Tonight, it seemed
sickly. Reminded her of a dying man’s yellowed eyes.

She didn’t notice when the first tears fell. Only when one
dripped onto the window and streaked down the glass.

Father.

He’d died thinking—no, knowing Ren was a traitor. She’d

betrayed him, betrayed Kolonya. She had planned to make
up for it one day. To work hard, pay for her sins in sweat.
She’d dreamed of forging a better Kolonya, a fairer one for
all its people.

Now look at her. Trapped in this tower. Barred from any

chance of reconciliation with her father, hated by the people
whose approval she’d longed for.

So what are you going to do about it? asked a little voice in

the back of her mind. Stay here and meekly await your trial?
Subject yourself to the heir’s whims?
If she was already as good as dead, no harm in risking her
life now.

Ren shoved away from the window and crossed her

chambers again. She knocked harder this time.

“What?” shouted the same Talon.

“Is my father dead?” Ren asked the impassive stonewood

door. She let him hear the pain in her voice. “I deserve to
know that much.”

She heard a heavy sigh. Finally, the locks turned, and a

brown-eyed, broad-nosed Kolonyan face appeared in the
crack. “You’re right. I’m sorry for your loss, my lady.”

She shut her eyes. Her lungs ached, as though the breath
had been sucked from them. “Did he…” She licked her lips,
suddenly dry. “Was it peaceful, at least?”

“I don’t know, my lady.” She looked up and found him

staring at her in

concern. “The Keep has been placed into lockdown. That’s a

procedure we only use in cases… Well. Cases like Countess
Yasmin’s, Sun accept her soul.”

Cases of murder. So the heir got to him after all.

“I see,” she managed to reply. Her throat, her chest,

everything felt tight.

Dizzy.
And yet, her earlier resolve crystallized. I can’t stay here. I
can’t just wait and see who the heir murders or imprisons
next.

“I’m not feeling well.” She pressed a hand to her forehead.

“Can… you send…” She didn’t finish the sentence, but fell
into a swoon. She made sure to sell it, flinging her arms
wide when she hit the stonewood.

The Talon cursed, and shoved inside, calling for a mender.

All the while, Ren’s mind raced. What would Zofi do?

First, she’d have armed herself before fainting. But Ren

didn’t keep weapons in her chambers, and besides, the
Talons had confiscated anything sharp, even her bloodletter.
She’d been shielding herself with a pen every morning, the
sharpest implement she could find.

A female Talon knelt in front of her face. “My lady?”

Ren fluttered her eyelids. “Mama,” she moaned. Then she

pretended to faint again. It took effort not to smile at the
Talons’ renewed cursing.

“What do we do?” the front-door guard asked. “Orders are

to keep the nobles in their rooms, at least until the queen is
found.”

The queen?

“She’s a sick girl,” the woman replied. “She just lost her
father. She wants her mother. What harm can there be in
that?”

A pause. Finally, the front-door guard sighed. “Fine, fetch

her mother.”
“Ren.” Mama knelt beside the bed the Talons had lifted her
into. “Can you hear me?”

She felt her mother touch her forehead with the back of a
hand, but she waited until the other voices—the Talons and
a mender who’d pronounced her unharmed but for shock—
faded. The moment the lock jangled, Ren’s eyes flew open.

Mama startled. “Honey, are you—”

“I’m fine,” she whispered. “Do you know what’s going on?
The Talons mentioned they’re searching for the queen.”

Mama scowled. “That murderess.” She hurriedly explained

about the Keep-wide search for the missing queen. “Your
sister ordered the Talons to arrest her unharmed, but I’ll bet
anything Rozalind killed him.”

“Do you know how Father…?” Ren couldn’t bring herself to

finish the question.

“The menders are saying it was a curse. A powerful one—

whoever cast it is strong, with a lot of experience in the
Vulgar Arts.”

I’ll say. Ren tasted a sour tang at the back of her throat.
Who knew the Vulgar Arts better than the heir, after all?

She pressed her lips together. “I need to get out of here.”

A frown creased her mother’s forehead. “The Keep is on

lockdown. Talons are scouring every corner for Rozalind.
You’ll be safer here, with the guards.”

“You mean here, right where Rozalind wants me to be?” Ren

waved at the room. “I’m done playing by her rules, Mama. I
need to stop her. Zofi found the shield tithe we’ve been
using. Maybe there’s another tithe we can fight back with,
something in the library—”

Mama cut her off. “The library is too exposed. Besides, if

you want unusual tithes, the University is your best bet.
Plus, you know the court leaves the acolytes to their own
devices.”

Ren knew. It was why you never saw acolytes at the Great
Hall for meals. “If I found some old acolyte robes to wear…”

“I’ll see what I can rustle up. In the meantime, when did you
last shield yourself?”

“This morning,” Ren said. “I do it each day before

breakfast.”

“I’m afraid you’ll need to tithe for this.” Mama searched her
face. “Get some rest. I’ll tell the Talons I’m fetching you
medicine; I’ll be back in a few hours with what we need.”

Ren sank back against her pillows, heart in her throat. The
moment the door shut, all she could think about was Father.
Did he see Rozalind’s face when she cursed him?

She was still awake, staring at the ceiling, when Mama

returned with a yellow acolyte’s robe. She took one look at
Ren’s face and murmured, “Scoot over.”

She slid into bed next to Ren and began to talk.

She told Ren how she first met Andros. He’d left his crown
behind, walked to town in disguise. “When he was younger
he did that often,” Mama said, “to try and understand his
people from within rather than above.”
Mama had been on an errand for Madam Oruna’s
predecessor, haggling for cotton. She caught Andros
watching her, and pinned him for a new noble, green to the
market. Mama spent half the day showing him around,
giving him tips on how to bargain. It wasn’t until the end of
the day, when he offered to walk her back to the Keep, arm-
in-arm, that she finally noticed the ununiformed Talon tailing
him.

Only then did she realize who she’d been flirting with.

The story warmed Ren’s heart, just a little. Enough for her to
catch a few winks of sleep before dawn came.

As the sun rose, Mama slipped Ren a sharp-backed pin from

her gown to use for a bloodletter. Ren arranged the bed
while Mama dug through her closet.

Between several pillows and some rolled-up gowns, they

managed to re-create an impressive imitation of a sleeping
Lady Florencia, buried under the covers.

“You won’t have long.” Mama strewed a few crumpled

handkerchiefs around the bed, to give the impression Ren
had been up all night crying. “They’ll send a mender once I
leave.”

Ren bobbed her head. “I’ll be quick. You’ll tell Akeylah where
I am?”

“I’ll go straight to her chambers from here.”

Ren noted with approval that Mama had finally stopped

harping on about trusting her sisters. “Ready?” Ren
crouched by the entrance, Mama’s pin poised in the crook of
her elbow.
Mama reached for the door.

Ren wore an outfit worthy of Zofi—trousers, a loose top, and

silk slippers, soundless on the hard floor. Over it, she draped
the hooded acolyte’s cloak.

Mama knocked on the wooden panel. “She’s asleep,” Mama

told the Talon who barked in response. “I need to retire to
my own chambers now.”

A bolt threw, and Ren dug her mother’s pin into the soft skin
under her arm.

Just a pinprick, but enough to let the Arts flood her veins,
sharper and stronger after days of shielding.

Heart racing, she performed a tithe she’d only tried once

before, and poorly.

But she still remembered Yasmin’s instructions during their

first lesson.

Moreover, she remembered the way Zofi had used this tithe
in battle, about two minutes after learning it.

She’s my sister. The same blood runs in my veins. If she can

do it, so can I.

Ren concentrated hard, pictured her surroundings. She

lightened and grayed her skin until it took on the pallor of
the ash stonewood behind her. She’d spent so long trapped
in these four walls that the tithe actually came easier than
she

expected.
She looked down just as the door opened, and had the
disorienting sensation of looking straight through her body
at the bedroom behind her.

The Talons were chatting with Mama, who stepped out into
the hall to answer their questions—how Ren seemed,
whether she’d need a mender.

Ren took advantage of their distraction—and of Mama

holding the door wide open, casually leaning one hip against
it—to slip out into the hall. She had to move slower than
she’d like, making sure to shift the color of her skin with
each step, so it blended into the walls she passed.

For a second, her concentration faltered, and Mama glanced

at her, panicked, then grabbed the nearest Talon’s arm.

“Are you all right, ma’am?” he asked.

“Just tired.” Mama turned her full sun-bright smile on, and
even at her age, with this much-younger Talon, Ren stifled a
smirk to see her charm working.

“Are you going to escort me back to my bed, safe and

sound?”

The Talon shot an amused glance at his fellow. “Of course,

my lady.”

Mama perked up even more at the my lady, and Ren left

them behind, creeping along the ash-colored hallway to the
nearest servants’ corridor. An itch started in her veins just
as she slipped into the passage. There, she let the tithe
fade, drew the hood of her acolyte’s cloak up, and scurried
toward the University, head bowed.
20

Zofi

The first stormwing Zofi spotted, she mistook for Vidal’s

bird. The creature had already returned to the band once,
bearing a message from Akeylah saying she’d received the
cure. The next day, a macaw had come from the aerie
bearing even better news—it worked.

It had been a bittersweet realization. Father survived; the

kingdom would carry on. Her sisters still had time to
uncover and defeat the heir.

Even so, Father would never see Zofi again. Her banishment
would continue.

She’d never get the chance to prove she was more than the
murderer he thought.

But when the stormwing carried on past their camp, and

when she spotted a second and a third, Zofi realized
something was happening.

“Mother?” She interrupted Deena’s lunch with some locals

to point at the sky.

By then, a few others in the band had begun to gaze

upward, as well. A fourth stormwing passed, and on its tail
raced a flurry of other birds, flying much lower.
Macaws and pigeons and the tiny songbirds popular out
here in the marshlands for short-distance messages. She
even caught the brilliant red flash of a scarlet—

a royal messenger.

A minute later, a deafening screech had the entire band on

its feet. Vidal, who’d been eating by himself, leaped upright.
“Birdy!” He raised his arm, fingers splayed to summon the
massive creature.

Zofi stifled a smirk. Only Vidal would name his stormwing,

the largest and most fearsome raptor in the world… Birdy.

The creature landed in a tornado of wingbeats, which sent

cups and plates flying. Zofi held on to the scarf wrapped
around her poor hair. Mother had spent the better part of
last night browbeating it back into semidecent shape. This

would likely ruin it again.

A few curious Travelers crowded the stormwing. More

strayed to the edge of the gathering area warily. Zofi
followed Vidal to its side. The creature still gave her the
chills, but she was getting used to it. “More news from
Akeylah?”

Vidal unscrewed something from its leg, and shook his head.
“It’s from my commander. The higher-ups carry special
horns so they can summon their troops’ stormwings in case
of…” Vidal’s words faltered as he unrolled the letter.

Unease fluttered in her stomach. “What is it?”

Slowly, he raised his eyes to hers. “I’m so sorry, Zofi.”

The pit of her stomach dropped. Her mind raced to the

worst possibilities.

“My sisters.”

“They’re safe.” Vidal glanced over his shoulder at the other

band members, who’d crept closer now, curiousity
overriding their fear. “It’s your father. He…

he’s gone.”

Zofi’s mouth went dry. “Akeylah said he was better.” Her

head shook, side-to-side. “No. No. I did everything right.
Found Mother, sent the cure in time. It was supposed to
work.”

“I think it did,” Vidal murmured. “This reads like something

else.”

“What does it say?” Mother stepped in, her voice steady,

posture straight. She was always impossible to shake.

Zofi wished she could channel some of that strength. Right

now, she felt weak. Weak, useless, and worlds away from
the sisters who needed her.

“It’s in code,” Vidal explained as he showed Mother the

letter. “It says a curse killed him, and the whole Keep is on
lockdown while they hunt for the perpetrator. But I must be
misunderstanding the code. This can’t be right.…”

“Why?” Zofi managed through a tightened throat. It hurt

just to speak. In the back of her mind, she kept reliving the
last time she saw Andros. The fury and hurt in his eyes as
he shouted for the Talons to take her away. That was the last
time she’d ever see her father.

“It sounds like Queen Rozalind is the primary suspect.”

“That’s impossible.” Zofi frowned at her mother. “Rozalind

isn’t a blood relative; she couldn’t curse Father.”

But Mother only looked thoughtful. “Unless she’s pregnant.

If she’s carrying Andros’s child…”

Zofi swore under her breath. Rozalind could be the heir.

“Are you sure about this?” Vidal watched her saddle the
stallion.

“If I go now, I can make the merchants’ road by tomorrow.

From there, Mother’s contacts will let me swap mounts. With
new horses along the way, it should only take me two, three
days.” She paused to pat the silver stallion’s neck.
“Mother’s friends will take good care of the prince’s horse
until I return.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Vidal picked up her saddlebag,

but held it just out of reach. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to
go back to Kolonya City right now?

My commander ordered me home because she wants her

best troops in the Keep.

She’s expecting trouble.” He lowered his voice. “You’ve

already been banished.

If anyone catches you, you’ll look guilty.”

“I am.” She jumped to snatch her saddlebag from his hand.

“If you’re worried we’ll attract trouble, we can ride
separately. I know how to take care of myself.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about, Zo.”

She tensed at the sound of Elex’s nickname. “Don’t call me

that.”

Vidal paused, thrown. “I apologize.”

“Don’t treat me like I’m ignorant either. I understand I’m

painting a target on my back.” She finished securing the
bags and wiped her hands on her breeches.

“I have to do this, Vidal.”

“But why?” In the midday sun, the green in Vidal’s hazel

eyes stood out.

“Because my sisters need me.” A terrible sense of

helplessness had enveloped her ever since she learned
about Father’s death. She should have been there; she
should be in the thick of the fight with Akeylah and Ren, not
safe out here in the marshlands. If Rozalind was the heir,
and she’d escalated to attacking Andros directly, her sisters
would need more help than ever.

But that wasn’t the only reason. Her conversation with Elex
still rang in her ears. You’re never going to truly be home.
Not until you decide to be.

He was right. Her band couldn’t be home until she came

here of her own free will. Until she finished what she’d set
out to do in Kolonya—changed this world for the better.

She couldn’t stay here and pretend nothing was wrong, let
the heir triumph.
Zofi would never forgive herself. She’d spend the rest of her
life without any home, either with her band or back in
Kolonya, because she’d been unwilling to decide her own
fate.

Vidal ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. “I just hope

you don’t fall right into a trap alongside your sisters, that’s
all.”

She’d thought about that. The heir would be focused on

cornering Akeylah

and Ren. Zofi? They thought they’d gotten rid of her. They
wouldn’t see her coming.

Her hand drifted to the longknife at her waist. The same

blade she’d driven into Nicolen’s heart. She killed her half
brother to save Elex. If it came to it, she could do that again
to save her sisters. Just like Elex, Akeylah and Ren were the
family she chose. And like Elex, she’d do anything to protect
them.

“What did you tell me? Crown or no crown, I can make the
Reaches better.”

Mother strode into the makeshift horse paddy, arms

crossed. “How will you getting arrested for breaking your
banishment make anything better?”

“I know how to blend into a crowd, Mother. There’s nowhere

more crowded than the merchants’ road.”

“And what about beyond the merchants’ road, when you

have to fool your way into Kolonya City?” Mother’s eyes
narrowed.
“She’ll be with me for that,” Vidal pointed out. “With a bit of
a disguise, I can bring her through as a merchant, or even
just claim I’ve arrested her for pickpocketing.”

“We’ve got two days on the road to plan. We’ll figure it out.”
Zofi reached for a waterskin and began to fill it at the
nearby well pump.

“So you’re just going to charge off with no supplies—”

“I have supplies.” She gestured to her saddlebags.

In response, Mother held up a leather sack. It clinked faintly.

“From your old emergency stash. I kept held of it while you
were away.”

Zofi crossed back to her side and peeled the leather open,
just far enough to glimpse the round glass balls inside.
Boosts.

“What’s that?” Vidal asked, curious. They both ignored him.

“Mother…”

“I won’t stop you, Zofi. You’re grown enough to make your

own decisions.

But don’t ride into this headstrong the way you normally do.
Be smart. Learn everything you can in advance of this
fight.” With that, she tossed something in Zofi’s direction.

Zofi caught it one-handed, the other still gripping her

boosts. When she turned it over, she found a small leather-
bound book, unlabeled.

“Can we have a moment?” Mother said. Vidal bowed at once

and strode back toward camp. Only after he’d passed out of
earshot did Mother murmur, “That’s everything.”

Zofi frowned in confusion.

“Everything I’ve learned over the years. Curses, tithes, all of

it.”

Zofi’s eyes widened. “You’ve had this sitting around for

anyone to find?”

Mother laughed. “Not at all. Take a look.”

She undid the leather ties and opened the first page, only to
find a blank sheet of velum. “I don’t understand.”

“The book itself is another trick I picked up.” Mother turned

it over and showed Zofi a thin strip of metal along the back,
narrow as her fingertip. “It’s bound to my blood. I have to
tithe a drop along its spine to reveal the words. But it will
work for you, too, daughter.” She smiled. “I’d always meant
to pass it down to you one day. That day just came sooner
than I thought.”

Zofi hugged the book to her chest. “Thank you, Mother.”

For an instant, Mother just looked at her, like she was

drinking Zofi in. Then, all business again, she finished filling
Zofi’s waterskin for her. “Stop at the Hook and Barber for
fresh horses. Tell them Deena will owe them, if they let you
borrow one of the stallions.” She paused to pat the silver
sand-stepper’s flank.

“Though I doubt you’ll have any trouble trading him. More

trouble getting him back once all this is done.”

Zofi flashed a half grin. “I’ll just have to channel you when I
come back.”
“You’ll just have to be sure to come back,” Mother replied
sternly. “From what you’ve told me this ‘true heir’ has done
already…” She nodded toward the book. “It sounds to me
like you’ll need every advantage in there. Vulgar Arts
included.”

Zofi didn’t want to think about what it would mean if she

failed. If she couldn’t stop the heir, couldn’t rescue Ren and
Akeylah… she might be sacrificing herself for nothing.

Or it might be for the good of all the Reaches.

“I’ll come back.” She didn’t say it like a promise. Just a

statement of fact.

Over Mother’s shoulder, she spotted Vidal on his way back,

and waved.

“Think he can keep up?” Mother smiled over her shoulder at

Vidal.

“If he can’t, I’ll leave him behind,” Zofi replied, loud enough
for Vidal to hear, though she flashed him a grin, too. “No
offense.”

“None taken.” Vidal grinned back. “Besides, Zofi, I’m a Talon

of Kolonya. If I can’t keep up, I don’t deserve my wings.”

21

Akeylah
All Akeylah could think about was the relief she’d felt when
Andros smiled down at her, just two days ago now. The
countercurse had worked. He was fine.

Better than fine, up and about, acting like his old self.

She thought she’d done it. Fixed him. Saved the Reaches.
Defeated the heir.

Really, the heir had been at her side all along. Snaking her
way into Akeylah’s heart. She closed her eyes, and behind
the lids, she saw the tableau again. Rozalind with the
bloodletter in her fist. Kneeling in a pool of cursed blood
next to her father’s blackened body.

It’s not what it looks like, Rozalind had sputtered. Right

before she fled the scene.

Ever since that moment, Akeylah had drifted in a haze. She

issued orders in a listless, numb tone. First the body—she’d
asked the menders to take care of it.

Then Rozalind—she’d ordered the Talons to find her. When

they asked why, she told them in a voice deadened by
anger, by sorrow, by too many in-between emotions to
name. “Rozalind knows what happened. She was with him at
the end.”

It should have worried her, how easily everyone accepted

her word. She watched Talons nod to each other, menders
gaze down at Father’s body with fresh suspicions in their
eyes. It proved to Akeylah what she’d known deep down all
along—nobody here really trusted the foreign queen.

Akeylah had wanted so desperately for the prejudiced,

judgmental courtiers to be wrong. For Rozalind to be the girl
she’d fallen for, the girl she’d come to trust, to love.
Rozalind was more than just some Genalese infiltrator—she
was kind, caring, supportive. The one person Akeylah had
felt she could rely upon.

But it seemed the Keep’s vipers were right, after all.

Rozalind had been against them, against Akeylah from the
very start.

It’s not what it looks like.… That’s what Rozalind had said
when Akeylah found her crouched over her father, knife in
hand.

She balled her fists. No, Rozalind. It’s never what it looks
like with you, is it?

After deploying the Talons, there had been the other tasks.
Akeylah had ordered the death knell for Father’s passing,
bells tolled all across the city. Then she’d called an
emergency session of the council of lords and the regional
council, jointly.

“We need a temporary regent,” Danton began the meeting,

first thing.

“What we need is to find the former queen,” Lord Rueno

interrupted. “Are these Talons even trying? How could one
lone woman evade them so long?”

Akeylah watched them speak from the head of the room,

struggling to keep her mind focused on the here and now.
But her thoughts kept chasing after Rozalind. Wondering
where the queen was, how she was evading the Talons’

grasp. Whether she regrets it. Whether anything we had

was real.
Captain Lindle, head of the Talons, bristled. “My men are
doing their best.”

“Why are we searching for the queen, when it was a curse

that killed him?”

asked another nobleman. “Shouldn’t we be investigating his

daughters—the Traveler one could be out there doing
anything, for Sun’s sake. Or the Burnt Bay traitor may have
gotten her hands on a bloodletter, despite being locked
away.”

“There is no evidence to suggest Florencia has anything to

do with any of this,” Danton interrupted.

“Yet,” Ambassador Ghoush said. “But I do agree with you,

Ambassador Danton. We need an acting leader. Someone to
guide this investigation.”

“There seems an obvious choice.” Ambassador Perry raised

a hand. “All those in favor of Lady Akeylah’s appointment?”

Akeylah started at the sound of her name. Raised her head

and watched numbly as hand after hand went up around the
table. Every ambassador, every noble. Even Lord Rueno
lifted his arm, after a pause. The room fell silent.

Looking to her to solve this.

She swallowed a hysterical laugh. They wanted her to lead?

She’d fallen in love with the enemy. Allowed her own father
to die.

But they were waiting, expectant. And someone needed to

tell them.
She met Rueno’s gaze. “I agree with you, Lord Rueno.” In
another lifetime, she might have been amused at the way
he nearly fell off his chair in shock.

“Our first priority must be finding Rozalind.” Akeylah shut

her eyes for a

moment. “And since she is most likely carrying the rightful

heir, we will need to decide upon a regency until the child
comes of age.”

A hush fell over the room. She could already see

Ambassador Ghoush and Lord Rueno trading stares as they
realized what this meant.

“My lady.” Captain Lindle frowned. “If Her Majesty is with

child, then—”

“Then you understand why I wish you to find her, and

quickly,” Akeylah interrupted. Whispers broke out, faces lit
up, eager at this new gossip, this terrible tale to spread. A
queen who murdered her own husband.

Suddenly, Akeylah couldn’t do this. She didn’t have the

energy for these people, these pampered nobles who
needed servants to tie their shoes, wipe their rears. What
did they understand of suffering? Had they ever watched
their lover kneel in a pool of their father’s blood? She rose,
one hand at her temple. “Excuse me. The stress of the
day…”

Danton leaped to her side at once. “We can decide these

matters later,” he said, and she felt a surge of gratitude.
“Get some rest,” he murmured to her, before he spun back
to the room. “For now, Lady Akeylah is right. Our primary
focus must be on locating the queen.”
He continued to speak, but Akeylah lost track as she ducked
from the solarium. She only just reached her chambers,
however, when a noblewoman stopped her.

“Lady Akeylah.”

She wrenched open her door.

“My lady, please, it’s about your sister.”

Akeylah froze. Only then did she recognize the woman, who
she’d met just once before. Ren’s mother, Martina, as she’d
introduced herself last time. After the baths, while they all
waited around for Ren to awaken. “I’m so sorry.”

Akeylah inwardly cursed her fatigue. She couldn’t take her

pain out on innocent bystanders. “What’s the matter?”

Martina glanced around the corridor, pointed.

Akeylah took the hint and led her inside.

“Ren’s left her chambers,” Martina blurted the moment they

were alone. “She felt it wasn’t safe to remain where
Rozalind expected her to be.”

Akeylah thought about the Talons patrolling the Keep,

already on high alert for the queen. Her heart leaped.
“Where did she go?”

Martina explained, in a low whisper, about the University.

How Ren hoped to find some new method to fight Rozalind.
“I’m just worried, if somebody finds her… She’s already
hated by so many people.”

“I’ll meet her.” Akeylah was already reaching for the plainest
dress she owned, her previous exhaustion washed away in a
flood of adrenaline. She couldn’t save Father, but she could
ensure no harm befell Ren. “We’ll find somewhere safe for
her to lay low.”

Akeylah understood why Ren wanted to go somewhere

Rozalind wouldn’t expect. But Rozalind could be anywhere in
the Keep right now. And if the queen was bent on finishing
the job she’d started when she nearly drowned Ren in the
baths…

“Thank you.” Martina gripped Akeylah’s hands once, tight.

“Be careful, please.”

Akeylah’s hopes climbed, just a little, at the thought of

seeing her sister.

Perhaps Ren would find something helpful in the University.

At the very least, together, they could decide what to do.
How to stop Rozalind before she clawed and cursed her way
onto the throne.

Akeylah had seen how easy it was to turn the Talons’

suspicions to Rozalind.

Surely the queen, who lied so well she’d convinced Akeylah

she loved her, could turn things back in her favor. All it
would take were a few carefully placed suggestions. Check
Lady Akeylah’s leg; you’ll find the scar where she cursed her
father. You already know what Lady Florencia has done, how
she betrayed this whole kingdom.…

Once Martina left, Akeylah finished donning a dull dress

designed to deflect attention. She turned to go, then froze
where she stood.

I didn’t shield today, she realized in panic.

Her father’s blackened, bloodstained body smiled at her
from the doorway.

“Go away,” she whispered.

“Akeylah.” Her father— no, not him, the heir again, Rozalind
—tsked and shook his head. “Is that any way to greet your
dear departed daddy?”

She forced herself to hold the hallucination’s bloodshot

gaze. “I know what you did to him, Rozalind.”

“Do you?” False-Andros tilted his head at an impossible,

sickening angle.

She heard bones snapping in his neck, and flinched. “Do you
know everything now, little puppet? Who I am, why I was
forced to do this?” He stepped off the bed on legs that
moved wrong. Knock-kneed and bent inward, as though he
were collapsing before her eyes.

She stumbled backward and bumped into her desk. Frozen,

pinned between a nightmare and the hard wood.

“You made me kill him, Akeylah.” He bent closer. Close

enough for her to

smell the rot on his breath, the same stench that had filled
her senses when she’d ripped the curse from his veins. “I
gave you a simple order, puppet. Put your sister on trial. You
didn’t.”

“You didn’t have to kill my father,” she growled.

He snapped his fingers, shook his head sadly. “I keep my

bargains, puppet.
What did I say? Ignore me, and I’ll make those you love
suffer. You ignored me.”

“You’re a monster.” Her voice hardened.

“Perhaps. Perhaps you have to become a monster to get

what you want in this world.” His eyes narrowed. “Forget
trials. I want your sister out of my way once and for all.
Make Ren publicly rescind her claim on the throne by
tonight, or someone else dies.”

“It won’t matter.” Akeylah straightened her spine. “Even if

she does, even if you ruin me next, nobody will crown you.
I’ll make sure all the Reaches know what you’ve done.”

Father clicked his tongue, with a sound like insect wings

fluttering. “Oh, we’ll discuss my coronation soon, puppet.
For now, you have your orders. See to it they’re completed.”
With that, the apparition vanished.

Akeylah continued to stare at the spot where the vision had

been, long after it faded. So Rozalind wanted Akeylah to
pave her way onto the throne?

Over my seas-cursed body.

22

Florencia

Right. Here we go. Ren stared up at the University entrance,

and pricked her fingertip on the slim needle that served for
a knob. The doors clanked, whirred, and began to open on
their own.

She tugged her acolyte’s cloak tighter and slipped through

the widening gap.

She walked with her head down, purposefully, as though she

knew where she was headed. In truth, she hadn’t the
faintest clue. But as long as she looked like she belonged,
hopefully no one would notice.

Ren needed to understand the types of Vulgar Arts curses

Rozalind had been using. If that sort of information resided
anywhere in the Keep, it would be here.

But Ren couldn’t exactly walk up to the headmaster and

inquire about illegal cursework. So she moved slowly,
canvassing one room at a time. The first floor consisted of
studies filled with acolytes, noses buried in their work. She
stole peeks at covers, but soon drew too many curious
glances. She was forced to hurry past, feigning some other
errand.

Finally, on the second story of the University, she came

across a library. It was smaller than the library in the main
Keep, and the books looked older, dustier. She scanned the
shelves. Half the titles she couldn’t even comprehend.

She started picking and skimming at random.

She found one book on shield tithes, which told her nothing
new. Another described curseworkers and the various
execution methods used for such

“witches.” She shuddered at the descriptions, often

illustrated. She wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone, even
Rozalind.
When researching curses and tithes proved unfruitful, Ren
turned her attention to a different section of the library. The
acolytes were responsible for

all the pomp and circumstance of royalty—Blood

Ceremonies to recognize relatives, coronation ceremonies
for new rulers. Figuring she might be able to at least delay
Rozalind’s installment as regent once her child was born,
Ren delved into that stack.

She was deep into one such tome when she heard
footsteps. Just another acolyte, she told herself. Pretend you
don’t notice. Her heart pounded against her eardrums.

A pair of silk slippers stopped before her reading chair. A

moment later, someone cleared their throat.

She didn’t look up. Panic rushed through her. Go away, she
thought, desperate.

But then. “Your mother told me I’d find you in here.”

Ren’s head jerked up to find Akeylah standing over her. She

opened her mouth to reply, but Akeylah shook her head.

“Not here,” she murmured, and strode from the room.

Ren trailed after her. Past several occupied rooms. Inside,

acolytes swiveled in their seats to watch them. Then Ren
caught the sound of other footsteps, behind them but
closing in fast. Someone was in a hurry.

Akeylah paused at a corner office, and gently pushed Ren

inside, before she continued down the hall alone. A moment
later, the jogging person caught up to her.
“Lady Akeylah,” said someone with a deep baritone voice.
“One of my men said he saw you enter here unescorted. It is
not safe for you to move about the Keep without a guard.”

“I have a meeting with Acolyte Ultrea, Captain.” Akeylah’s

voice was even, unharried. “It is my decision whether I
require a guard. In this case, I do not.

Though I wouldn’t need such protection at all if your Talons

would do their job and apprehend Rozalind.”

Ren suppressed a smile. Not long ago, she couldn’t have

imagined Akeylah speaking to anyone like that, let alone a
Talon captain. The past few weeks had changed them all,
perhaps Akeylah most of anyone.

“You are right, my lady, and I apologize for my guards’

continued failure. I’m afraid on that point, I bear worse
news.”

“About Rozalind?” Akeylah’s tone sharpened.

“About your sister. It seems Lady Florencia slipped from her

rooms sometime this morning. We have notified the Talons
to search for her, as well as Queen Rozalind. But it’s all the
more reason you should not be wandering

without protection.”

“Very well. I will send for you the moment my business with
Acolyte Ultrea is concluded, and you may escort me
wherever you like. Until then, however, I don’t expect to see
you trailing me again.”

Silence rang in the hall. Ren held her breath and stared at
the study door.
After a long pause, the Talon’s footsteps retreated. Another
beat passed, and then Akeylah ducked into the office with
her. “Ren? We can talk now.”

Only then did Ren think to check the name on the desk
behind her. Ultrea.

She couldn’t help but smile. “Was this your plan all along?”
Ren reached out to embrace her sister, and Akeylah
wrapped her arms around Ren tightly. It surprised Ren just
how reassuring it felt.

“A little bit of improvisation.” Akeylah glanced at the

nameplate. “I inquired at the headmaster’s, learned Acolyte
Ultrea is out of the city on business. Listen, Ren, have you
shielded yourself yet today? I had another vision just now.”

Ren swore softly. “Not yet. I needed to wait after I tithed this
morning.”

Akeylah passed her a bloodletter. Ren took it and tithed

quickly. Only after the now-familiar shield enveloped her
once more, did she think to reach out and catch her sister’s
hand. “Akeylah, I’m so sorry about Rozalind. I have only a
small idea what that kind of betrayal feels like, and still.”
She thought about Danton, when he and Lexana announced
their engagement. How much worse must it be to know the
person you cared about was hunting your family?

Akeylah pulled away. “No, I’m sorry. You warned me about

trusting her. I just didn’t believe she’d be capable of.…”
Akeylah pressed a hand to her mouth.

Ren winced. She almost didn’t want to know. Yet the

expression on Akeylah’s face, one of mingled pain and
horror, made her ask. “Did he… did you see it? When
Father…”
The full story tumbled from Akeylah in fits and spurts, and
made Ren’s stomach turn. Finally, Akeylah stammered to a
halt, and Ren thought about what she’d said earlier. “You
had another vision, too?”

Her sister nodded shakily. “Rozalind told me she killed

Father because I didn’t listen to her. Back when she ordered
me to put you on trial.”

“Sun curse her.” Ren clenched her teeth.

“There’s more.” Akeylah swallowed audibly. “She wants you

to rescind your claim on the throne. In public, by tonight. Or
she says she’ll kill again.”

Ren ran a hand through her hair. Hesitated, but only for a
moment. “Okay.”

Akeylah bristled. “What? No. Ren, we are not giving in to her

demands.”

“Why not?” Ren spread her hands. “My reputation is ruined,

Akeylah. I’m a

fugitive within my own home. Even if by some miracle I’m

acquitted in a trial, nobody is going to respect or follow a
queen with an accusation of treason on her record.”

“But it puts Rozalind one step closer to the throne.”

“If it prevents her from attacking anyone else today, it’s

worth it.”

“What about tomorrow?” Akeylah stepped toward her.

“What about when she demands I step down next, or when
she orders us to crown her, will we dance like puppets on
her string?”
“Of course not.” Ren hefted the book she’d been carrying
under one arm, Coronation Ceremonies and Traditions. “But
she can’t claim the crown, anyway.

Not by Kolonyan law. She’d only be vying for a regency in

the child’s stead, and there are ways to block such claims.
First of all, she’ll need to perform a Blood Ceremony like the
one Father did for the three of us, to prove the child’s
heritage. Even then, if we prove Rozalind is unfit for
leadership, the councils will install a temporary regent until
the child comes of age. We have ways to fight her, Akeylah,
but we need more time. Rescinding my claim buys us that
time.”

Akeylah frowned at the book. “If you make a public

statement, the Talons will just lock you right back in your
chambers afterward. You heard the captain just now; they’re
scouring the Keep for you. It was difficult enough to
convince the councils to delay your trial; now that you’ve
proven a flight risk.…”

“Did the heir say I had to make such a statement in

person?” Ren pursed her mouth, thoughtful. “I could write a
letter renouncing the crown. We can say I mailed it to you,
maybe even from somewhere outside Kolonya City, so the
Talons will focus on Rozalind and not me.”

“Where will you really go?” Akeylah’s brow contracted with

worry. “Perhaps leaving Kolonya isn’t the worst idea.…”

Ren shook her head. “I’m not abandoning my home. Or

leaving you to fight Rozalind alone.”

Relief and worry warred on her sister’s face. “For that, I’m
grateful. But you need somewhere safer than this.” She
gestured at the office.
“There’s a place I can go. A cavern underneath the Keep,
where Danton and I used to meet.” In another life. Before
Danton carried battle plans she stole to his Eastern rebel
friends and sank Ren’s chance at the throne before she
even knew it existed. “Do you have a quill?” Ren crossed the
study and unearthed some parchment. “I’ll write it now.”

Akeylah plucked a fountain pen from the desk, held it out.

“You have to be

certain.”

Ren studied her sister’s uneasy expression and forced a

smile. “I am. Even if Rozalind weren’t strong-arming us,
Akeylah, I heard you talking to that Talon captain. You’re
better at this than I ever would have been.”

Akeylah grimaced. “I don’t feel good at this. I’m only doing

what’s necessary, because there’s nobody else to turn to.
I’m not ready to run a country, Ren. It’s too much.”

Ren took the pen from her sister’s hand and squeezed her
fingers in the process. “You’ve held the Keep together
during what has to be one of the worst times in the history
of the Reaches. Yasmin died, Father was murdered, his
queen is on the run.… The fact that there isn’t a mob of
panicked nobles storming through the halls is testimony
enough. You’re ready to rule.” She held Akeylah’s gaze. “And
you have your sisters behind you, no matter what.”

Akeylah sighed and rested her hand on top of Ren’s. “I wish

Zofi were here.”

“So do I,” she murmured, surprised by how much she meant

it. Zofi would know what to do. How to hit Rozalind where
she hurt, how to strike first instead of just reacting to the
queen’s every move.
They’d just have to channel her as best they could. Ren bent
over the parchment.

“Read it at dinner, would you?” Ren asked, once she’d

signed the testimonial with a flourish. “If the whole Great
Hall hears, that should be public enough for Rozalind.”

“I will,” Akeylah promised. “You just stay safe.” Akeylah

hugged her one more time, tight and fast, before she went
to distract the Talons long enough for Ren to slip by
unnoticed. On her way out, Ren grabbed a few more tithing
books from the library. Couldn’t hurt.

Ren didn’t know what she should be feeling. Sorrow,

perhaps, at signing away her claim. Or defeat. The heir was
one step closer to winning. Yet somehow, with Akeylah on
her side and a semblance of a plan, what she felt instead
almost resembled hope.

23

Zofi

By midday the next day, Zofi and Vidal reached the Hook
and Barber. There, Vidal, who had donned his armor just in
case they ran into any trouble, proved a source of great
amusement.

“Deena’s daughter has got herself a trained Talon, fancy

that,” one woman commented with a guffaw.
“You’re surprised?” her friend joked. “I’m just shocked
Deena never had one of her own.”

They led Zofi and Vidal into a sprawling stable complex. Zofi
nuzzled her stallion’s nose in apology before she left him in
the innkeepers’ care and picked out a new horse, another
sand-stepper, this one dull gray. At least he’d blend into the
crowd better.

“We’re serving full Southern luncheon in the lodge.” The

woman eyed the sweat sheened across Zofi’s and Vidal’s
foreheads and the dust that coated their boots. “You should
stop, rest a while. Food’s on us.”

“Thank you,” Zofi said, and meant it. There weren’t many
merchants along this road who would open their businesses
to Travelers, let alone invite them to dine for free. “But we
really need to be on our way.” As she spoke, though, her
stomach growled in protest.

The woman laughed. “All right, but at least let me fix you a
little something for the road. Your mother would kill me if I
let you ride away hungry.”

Zofi almost protested, but Vidal elbowed her side. One

glance told her his stomach was giving him the same pangs.
They’d eaten spiced gruel with dried berries last night, and
half a sack of dried meats this morning, a diet Zofi was
accustomed to living on at times when the band needed to
move fast. But even

she could do with something more filling.

So they led their new mounts to the front of the inn, and
waited until the woman bustled back with a pair of
sackcloths bursting at the seams. “It’s not much.” She
offered them up with an apologetic grimace, even though
the weight nearly made Zofi topple forward. “Just some hard
cheese and pickled veg, fresh-baked flatbread, some jams
to go on top… Careful with the red jam, it’s hawkclaw
pepper. Burn your tongue right off.”

“It’s more than enough, really.” Zofi hugged her one-armed.

“Thank you again, for everything.”

“Anything for Deena’s brat. Her family is mine.” The woman

smiled with a fondness around the edges Zofi recognized.
Ah. Definitely another of Mother’s conquests.

“I’ll give her your best,” Zofi promised as they remounted.

Only once they were back on the road did Vidal lean across
his saddle.

“Isn’t hawkclaw pepper…?”

“Ridiculously expensive? Yes.” She stifled a grin. “I have a

feeling she’s very fond of my mother.”

“I can see why,” Vidal replied, and she spun around to glare
at him. His eyes went wide and his hands shot up in
surrender. “I didn’t—I just meant, because she’s got a really,
er… commanding presence.”

Zofi snorted, and he relaxed, though only a little. It

endeared her, really, how easy he was to rile up. “Go on, eat
your lunch, my pet Talon.”

Now it was his turn to glare, but only until he dug into the
food. The flatbread alone was to die for, warm and fluffy.
The woman hadn’t lied—a single dollop of the hawkclaw jam
was enough to make her eyes water. She loved it.

They devoured half the sackcloths’ contents before they

really settled in to ride. Zofi figured they could make their
next trading post by nightfall, as long as they kept a hard
pace. But fatigue from the previous day’s ride and their
now-full bellies had them lagging by the time the sun set.
The merchants’ road went darker than ever under its thick
jungle canopy.

Here and there, lamps illuminated the road, though not

brightly enough for them to ride any faster than a trot. Zofi
couldn’t see the holes or wagon ruts in which a horse might
twist its hoof.

Finally, near a signpost for the Dawn Mountains’ low road,

which cut east through the jungle, Zofi called to Vidal. He’d
been riding a few paces ahead, since his uniform served to
deter anyone who might be tempted to pick a fight with
Zofi. She’d bound her telltale curls in a scarf, and wore a
shift to conceal

her leather armor, but her short stature and narrow features
still stood out, marks of her heritage.

Vidal wheeled around to meet her.

“We’re still a couple hours’ ride from our next stop,” she
said. “By then it’ll be midnight; the inn will be shut. We
should just camp here.”

It was a mark of his exhaustion that, despite the fact that

he’d been talking all day about having a nice warm bed for
a change, Vidal nodded.

They pitched the tent in silence. Almost before she’d

finished rolling out the bed mats, he was sound asleep,
snores rocking the tent. Zofi felt just as exhausted, but
when she laid down at last, sleep wouldn’t come. She stared
at the tarp overhead and pictured every way this could go
wrong.
The heir could already have taken control of the throne. Ren
could be dead.

Akeylah could be, too.

Finally, mind still churning, Zofi rolled over and slid Mother’s
journal from her saddlebag. She crept outside, careful not to
wake Vidal—though she doubted a whole stampede could
do that right now—and lit the lantern they’d hung near the
horses.

By its flickering candlelight, she drew her longknife. Pricked

her fingertip and traced the small well of blood down the
spine of the book.

As far as she could tell, it didn’t do anything. The book just

sat in her lap, looking like a book. But when she peeled
apart the pages this time, instead of blank velum, spidery
handwriting greeted her, inked in a dull brown color that
reminded her suspiciously of blood.

More of Mother’s secrets.

She leaned against a nearby tree trunk, wider than she was
tall, and settled in to read.

The first few pages covered things she knew. Boosts, simple
tithes. From there it delved into the Vulgar Arts. Some she’d
experienced herself—curses to project images into a
relative’s mind, curses to spy on a relative’s thoughts
temporarily. Zofi couldn’t help thinking the latter might
explain how the heir uncovered her, Ren’s, and Akeylah’s
most closely guarded secrets. It made her wonder, too, how
often the heir had done that. Had they watched Zofi rock
back and forth in her mother’s tent, shaking with memories
of Prince Nicolen’s blood on her hands?
Sands, had they been watching the night she did it? Did the
heir know what Zofi was right from the moment she drove
the blade through Nicolen’s heart?

She turned the page. Read on.

She found curses to sicken a relative, curses to age or kill a

relative, in all manner of ways. It turned her stomach to
imagine working any of these.

But there were other things, too. Curses to heal a relative’s

illness. Curses to lend your tithing ability to a relative,
something Zofi had never even dreamed of.

She wasn’t sure what to call these things, these in-between

Arts. Vulgar Arts were curses, Blood Arts were tithes,
everyone knew that.

Yet, could you really call it a curse if you used the Vulgar
Arts to help a family member?

Her head swam.

Then again… she remembered the story she’d told Vidal

about Traveler Queen Claera. About how the Arts were
different back then. When the Arts first came to the
Reaches, there was no distinction between the Vulgar and
the Blood Arts. Is this why? she wondered. Was it because
some tithes blurred the lines?

But then she came to a page that made her stop and draw
the book closer.

Written across the top, in her mother’s cramped

handwriting, were the words Tithe for a Mental Bond.
Just like the one Yasmin and Andros had performed, so many
years ago.

The most vulgar of Vulgar Arts, Mother wrote. Anyone who

performs it must either be blind to the true consequences or
utterly careless of who they wound in pursuit of their goals.
For the sake of keeping a complete record, I include it here,
but with this warning.

As Zofi continued to read, her lips parted in shock. The book

trembled in her hands, until she was forced to set it on the
ground, rereading the final paragraph over and over to be
sure she’d understood correctly.

The first half explained what she already knew. The tithe
bound two people’s minds forever. Whatever Andros had
thought, Yasmin had heard, and vice versa.

It allowed them to communicate instantly, across any

distance. It also meant that when Yasmin was pushed from
the sky gardens, Andros had felt her death as though it were
his own.

But the second half, which detailed how to create the

bond… that Zofi hadn’t understood until now.

There is only one way to unite two people. To make two

people into one, Mother wrote, and in those words, Zofi
heard the echo of what Mother always told her, growing up.
Any time Zofi asked why she didn’t have any siblings, like
the other Traveler children.

“Because,” Mother had said, “you need to be careful who

you share your blood with. It’s a powerful bond, a tether
that can never be cut. I’ve only met one
man who I trusted to share that with.” She’d usually pinched
Zofi’s cheek at that point. “Who I trusted you with.”

In a child, the book continued, two separate people become

a single bloodstream.

If two people wish to bind their minds, they must tithe for
this purpose while they produce a child together.

A child.

Bile rose in the back of Zofi’s throat. She sat back against
the tree and stared at the night forest. Tried desperately to
breathe in the fresh air, the scent of the earth beneath her.

It didn’t help. The trees went blurry, seemed to spin around

her, dizzy with disgust.

Andros and Yasmin had a child together.

A child born of incest. From a brother and sister… Zofi

thought about her sisters and felt sick. She couldn’t imagine
crossing that line. Perverting familial bonds like that.

She knew royalty did things differently than normal people.

She’d heard of distant cousins marrying, in cases where no
other “noble enough” matches could be found. But a union
like this wouldn’t just go against custom. This went against
the law, too.

In the Reaches, where bloodlines determined who you could

trust, incest among close relations was seen as a perversion
of the gods’ gifts. Children born from such unions were often
sickly, or mad, or died young of minor diseases.

Zofi thought she’d begun to know her father. But the fact
that he would do this…
I have another half sibling out there.

A shiver ran along her spine. She understood all too well
now what her mother meant about being careful who you
shared blood with. Yet, careful as she claimed to have been,
Mother had tied her bloodline to the worst possible option.

Zofi thought about Nicolen’s viciousness. She thought about

the bloodthirsty heir. Sands, even Zofi’s crime and her
sisters’. Were they any better?

Now Yasmin and Andros, too. The twins were willing to flout
every law in the land, and for what? To bind their minds.
How could that possibly be worth bringing such a child into
the world, a child whose origins they’d need to disguise, a
child who might be ill or suffer greatly.

It wasn’t just dangerous. It was selfish.

Head throbbing, Zofi continued to read with difficulty.

While the child is yet unborn, both parents must reach into
the child’s blood, and tithe for a mental union, much like
one would do to temporarily see a family member’s
thoughts. They must repeat this daily until the child is born
—they will feel the effects lasting longer and longer as the
child grows with the bond.

Once the child is born, the link becomes permanent.

But the side effect many theoretical texts gloss over is the
effect on the child.

A child born through this tithe will also be able to hear their
parents. The child’s is the mind the parents’ thoughts pass
through; they are the echo of the tithe. The child will hear
every thought their parents share, even before they are old
enough to comprehend the meanings.

Zofi swallowed hard. She thought about how strange, how

painful that must be. To hear everything your parents
believed, even before you could walk or talk…

There are few historical records of this tithe being

performed. Those we do have indicate that the children
created in this way are strong in the Arts; often impossibly
so, perhaps due to the Arts that linger from their parents’
tithes in the womb.

This effect was doubled in one instance when two cousins

produced such a child (see p. 320 for the story of the
Ananses Hexchild).

Zofi set the book down.

She’d heard Mother tell that story before. The tale of a girl
who, furious at her parents for forbidding her to marry the
boy she wanted, cursed her entire lineage in one fell swoop.
She died, but so did her parents and sister. Only her cousins
survived to tell the tale, and even they bore lifelong scars
from the curse.

Zofi always thought the story was a myth. A fairy tale to

scare children away from practicing the Vulgar Arts.

Now…

Zofi snapped the book shut and stared at its cover, mind
racing. A child impossibly strong in the Arts. A child of a
king, who grew up with every piece of knowledge that king
carried within their own mind. A child Andros could never,
would never acknowledge, because how could he admit
he’d disregarded his own laws, bedded his sister, and for
what? A mental connection that, to Zofi, didn’t sound so
important.

But a child like that sounded an awful lot like the sort of
person who would curse their half sisters. Murder their
father. Dub themselves the true heir.

To judge by Vidal’s commander’s message, the Keep was

hunting for Rozalind. But maybe they had it all wrong.

24

Akeylah

This is Rozalind’s fault, Akeylah thought as she stood at the

head of the Great Hall, Ren’s letter in her hand. She forced
us into doing this.

“I ask everyone here to bear witness to my sister’s

testimony,” Akeylah began, “which she had delivered to me
this morning.” Nobles at the back of the hall elbowed
forward to hear while Akeylah unfolded the parchment. “She
writes: ‘I, Lady D’Andros Florencia, daughter of King Andros,
being of sound mind and body, do hereby renounce my
claim on the throne, and all rights, inheritance, and
positions that come with it. I beg the forgiveness and
understanding of my fellow courtiers. I do this not for pride
or for protection, but because I believe it to be the best
decision for Kolonya and the Reaches…’”
As she read, Akeylah noticed motion from the corner of her
eye. She glanced up to see Danton storming out of the hall,
his expression thunderous.

Inwardly, she winced in sympathy, though she couldn’t do

anything to help.

Could only keep reading the speech Ren had penned. It was
well written—it offered apology without admitting to any
charges. She walked a thin line between placating the heir
and avoiding knotting her own noose.

Akeylah prayed this would be enough to stay Rozalind’s

hand, at least for now. After all, Ren had given her what she
wanted. One less person between Rozalind and the throne.

When Akeylah finished, she didn’t stay for the evening

meal. She retreated to bed, exhausted from the day,
emotions taking their toll.

How could you do this to me? she wanted to shout, to

scream at Rozalind.

How could you kiss me so sweetly while holding a knife to

my back?

So far, no word from any of the Talons. Somehow, that didn’t

surprise

Akeylah. Given everything else Rozalind had done, of course

she’d be adept at hiding, too. Akeylah just prayed she and
Ren could stop Rozalind before it was too late. Before more
people met her father’s and Countess Yasmin’s fates.

Back in her father’s chambers, where Akeylah had taken up

temporary residence at Captain Lindle’s insistence—“it’s the
easiest suite to secure, my lady”—she collapsed straight
into bed, too tired even to pick at the dinner tray some
servant or another had brought.

She woke somewhere in the wee hours of the morning,

staring up at her ceiling, unsure why she suddenly felt wide
awake, heart racing.

Then she heard it again. A faint patter against her window.

Or, well. Father’s window. The one that opened onto the
back fields. The room was on the third story, at least twenty
or thirty feet above the grass, and yet…

Tap.

Her muscles tensed. She rolled out of bed into a crouch and
glanced from the window to the doors. Should she alert the
guards?

Then again, if it was Ren, she didn’t want to inadvertently

trap her sister.

Tap.

Instead of guards, Akeylah reached for the bloodletter she

kept on the bedside table. She hadn’t tried to shield yet
today. She wasn’t sure if she had enough Arts in her system
yet, or if she was still run dry from healing the king.

Just in case, she gripped the blade tight and crossed to the
windowpane. Holding her breath, she flicked the gauzy
curtain aside, just enough to peer outside.

At first she saw nothing except the sky, a small smattering

of bright stars set against the purple-pink predawn glow.
Closer at hand, a few lights glimmered here and there in
neighboring towers, but otherwise, the Keep was dark.
Silent.
Tap. Another pebble reflected off the pane.

Akeylah leaned forward until her forehead touched the

window. Like that, peering straight down, she was able to
see the figure on the grass. A familiar figure, dressed in
men’s pants and a formal shirt rather than the dress
Akeylah had last seen, yet unmistakable. She’d recognize
her anywhere.

Rozalind stood on the lawns, haloed by the rising sun as she

raised her arm to toss another pebble.

Heart turning over, Akeylah unlatched the window. Opened

it just far enough to make Rozalind stop, midthrow.

She shouldn’t do this. She should call the Talons right now.
Have the queen arrested.

But Akeylah wanted to hear Rozalind’s confession from her

own lips. She

wanted to demand an explanation. And now, with a

bloodletter glinting in her fist, unshielded… Suddenly,
Akeylah felt stronger than Rozalind. Strong enough to
confront her enemy head-on.

So she extended an arm through the window and waved

once.

Rozalind waved, too, a come here gesture broad enough for

Akeylah to see even from this height.

This is a bad idea, cried half her mind.

End this, screamed the other half. The stronger half.

Akeylah dressed in pants and a shirt that left her free to
move. She may not know how to fight like Zofi, but she’d
bring backup. She wasn’t a complete moron.

“I’m going for a walk,” Akeylah announced to the Talons

posted outside her door. “One of you with me.”

Unlike the captain, who undoubtedly would have questioned

her motives, these low-ranking Talons didn’t try to dispute
her orders. One fell in behind her, and the other remained at
his post, obedient.

Akeylah spiraled down to the first floor, and at the exterior

doors, she told the Talon to wait. “I’ll call you in a few
moments,” she said. “If you don’t hear from me by the time
the sun has fully risen, come outside.”

Her contingency plan settled, Akeylah stepped out onto the

lawns. Her slippered feet rustled in the grass. The cool air of
the dying night kissed her cheeks, sank damp tendrils into
her plaits. She hesitated a second, just beyond the exit, for
her eyes to adjust to the lightening sky.

Once they did, she picked out a silhouette against the

cherry tower. Rozalind turned toward her, and the dawn
light brushed over her face, made Akeylah’s breath catch in
her lungs.

The queen looked more beautiful than ever, even despite

her frightened eyes, the harried, hunted look to her. For a
split second, Akeylah’s heart wrenched in sympathy. Until
she remembered everything the queen had put her through.

She hoped the Talons who’d been stalking her for two days
made Rozalind feel even half the suffering she’d put Akeylah
and her sisters through.
Her grip tightened on the bloodletter. She stalked toward
the queen. Paused a couple paces away, near enough to see
the whites around Rozalind’s eyes. “Give me one good
reason why I shouldn’t chain you where you stand,” Akeylah
said softly.

“I didn’t kill your father, Akeylah.” Rozalind held her gaze,

voice low and pleading.

“I saw you curse him,” Akeylah hissed.

“I was trying to save him.” Rozalind raised her hands, palms

empty. No weapons. Not yet, anyway. “I wanted to heal him,
stop the curse, the way you did. But I was too late; I
couldn’t… I didn’t know what to do…”

“Then why did you run? If you were so innocent.” Akeylah

loaded the word innocent with sarcasm.

Rozalind laughed, an unhappy sound. “Think about it,

Akeylah. You were calling for menders, who’d bring Talons
with them. If I was found next to him like that, covered in
blood, a Vulgar Arts scar on my thigh? People already hate
me here.” Her voice dropped lower, so low Akeylah had to
lean in to hear. “Even you thought I did it. I saw it in your
eyes the moment you entered that room. If even you could
think me capable…”

Akeylah stepped back, expression hard. She wouldn’t fall for

this. Not again.

“You were arguing with him before he collapsed. Half the

Great Hall servers heard you.”

“He asked me about the child.” Rozalind ducked her head.

“He… wasn’t happy I hid it from him. I can understand that.
But we were only talking, I swear.
And suddenly his face went slack. He started shouting, as
though there were someone else in the room. I begged him
to call a mender, but he acted like I wasn’t even there.” She
closed her eyes, grimacing with what seemed like genuine
regret. “I should have summoned the menders myself. But I
didn’t understand what was happening.…”

Akeylah stared.

She wanted to believe this story. She wanted to believe it so

badly, and yet, given what Rozalind had already hidden from
her, a secret as huge as her pregnancy… how could she?

“What was he saying?” Akeylah asked, voice carefully

neutral.

Rozalind scrunched her eyes shut, as if trying to remember.

“First he was shouting that he wouldn’t give his sister’s
murderer anything. Then he said,

‘You’re no daughter of mine. You’ll take the throne over my

dead body.’ Right after that, he collapsed and started to
convulse. The black webs appeared a few seconds later.…”
Rozalind’s voice broke. She pressed a hand to her mouth for
a breath before she could continue. “You saw him. I couldn’t
counter it; I couldn’t save him.…”

Akeylah stood frozen for what felt like an eternity. Finally,

she let out a slow sigh. “Why should I believe you? After all
the other lies you’ve told me, Rozalind. After what you hid
from me.”

The queen ran a hand over her eyes. Took a deep,

shuddering breath. Then she reached for her waist, where
Akeylah spotted the dull flash of a bloodletter.

Akeylah raised hers, quicker. “Don’t.”

Rozalind’s hand froze. Hurt and surprise flashed across her
features. “I was only…” She hesitated. Swallowed her
protest. “I’ll take a blood oath, Akeylah.

Will that satisfy you?”

A lump rose in Akeylah’s throat. She didn’t dare to hope.

It’s a trick. Rozalind would just curse Akeylah the moment

she tithed.

Akeylah wasn’t shielded. In a few minutes, the sun would

finish rising and the Talon she’d left on guard would come
outside, but until then, she was alone.

Vulnerable.

For a long while, they stood stock still, Akeylah with her
bloodletter in hand, Rozalind with her palm hovering above
hers. Their gazes locked across a chasm that suddenly felt
impossibly huge.

Then Rozalind shivered, hard enough that Akeylah could see

it.

“What is it?” Akeylah asked, trying and failing to keep her

voice emotionless.

“I don’t… I don’t quite feel…” Rozalind lifted her hand to her

chest.

Akeylah’s jaw dropped. Black spiderwebs unfurled along the

queen’s hands.

Crawled up her arms. “Rozalind.”

The whole world slowed. One moment the queen was

upright. The next her legs went one direction and her head
the other. Akeylah didn’t remember telling herself to move,
but she must have, reacting on sheer instinct. In a
heartbeat, her arms were around Rozalind’s waist, and she
caught the queen halfway to the ground.

She sank to her knees with Rozalind in her arms, pressed

her own bloodletter into Rozalind’s hand. “Tithe,” she
ordered. “You have to shield yourself, Rozalind. I’ll talk you
through it.”

But Rozalind didn’t seem to hear her. The queen’s breath

turned to gasps, constricted in her throat. Tears burned
Akeylah’s eyes. Tracked down her cheeks.

What was happening?

Not her. Not Rozalind, Mother Ocean, please.

Someone else was there. Beside her, a hand on her

shoulder.

She looked up into her father’s eyes. He smiled, teeth

blackened with the curse that had killed him. The faint rays
of the sun’s rising light reflected off his curse-darkened
eyes.

The heir.

Not Rozalind after all.

“Let her go,” Akeylah growled.

“All in good time. She’s my collateral, don’t you see?” His

laugh was deep, echoing. It rattled her bones to the core.
“You saw what I did to our father the last time you
disobeyed me.”
Our?

Akeylah tightened her grip on Rozalind. “I did what you

asked me to. Ren rescinded her claim. Didn’t you hear me in
the Great Hall?”

Not-Andros’s grin went sharp as talons. “Yes, and for that, I

thank you. But that was only your first task, puppet. Now
comes your next. Plan a Blood Ceremony for me. The kind fit
for a queen.” The sick imitation of her father reached out, as
though to cup Akeylah’s cheek. She flinched away.

“Who are you?” Akeylah spat. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because, puppet. You have something I want. My legacy.

It’s been denied to me long enough.”

Her mind raced. She glanced down at Rozalind, still

breathing, though each inhale sounded labored. What was it
Rozalind overheard Father saying, before he died? You’re no
daughter of mine. “Are you my sister?” Akeylah studied the
apparition’s expression.

If she struck a nerve, it didn’t show. The vision only smiled

wider. “I have no real family. I’m the daughter of the moons,
and they taught me everything I need to know.”

“Like how to murder your father?” Akeylah replied darkly.

The apparition only laughed. “Like how to clean up

Kolonya’s messes. Do you really think Andros was a good
king? A good father?”

The vision reached for Akeylah again, and this time, she did
not flinch away.
She held her ground, body trembling, as ghostly fingers
brushed through her hair.

“Hold the Blood Ceremony by tomorrow night. Or Rozalind

dies.”

In Akeylah’s arms, the queen inhaled once more, a terrifying

rattle in her throat. Her pulse felt far too slow, her body
heavy and unresponsive.

“Anything,” Akeylah blurted. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just

let her go.”

In her arms, Rozalind went still. Her breathing stopped.

Akeylah’s world shrank to a pinpoint. To Rozalind, her parted
lips, her frozen expression.

“Good.” Not-Andros smirked. “I’ll see you soon, puppet.” In

a blink, he vanished.

At the same instant, Rozalind gasped, and her whole body

shuddered back to

life. Akeylah clutched her tight. The queen curled against

her, and Akeylah pushed damp curls back from her
forehead, bent to kiss her cheek, her forehead, her lips. “I’m
sorry,” she whispered, over and over. “I’m so sorry. I should
have believed you; I should have listened.…”

Behind her came a crash, as the Talon she’d left behind

burst from the tower.

“Summon a mender,” Akeylah barked, before he could

recover from his shock at seeing the queen in her arms,
prone on the ground.

As he sprinted away, Akeylah rocked back on her heels.

Our father, the vision said.

You’re no daughter of mine, Father had shouted before he

died.

Either Ren or Zofi were behind this nightmare all along… or

they had another sister out there.

25

Zofi

Kolonya City had turned green.

Chartreuse drapes shrouded the windows of every building.

Jungle-green garlands hung from every railing on the streets
leading to Ilian Keep. The few passersby Zofi spotted wore
every shade from lime to emerald, and the Keep itself flew
dark green flags from each tower.

The grounds around the Keep were silent, the only

movement from a handful of merchants in the market
square, much quieter than it would normally be.

Anyone who strayed too close to Ilian Keep, Zofi noticed,

held up their fingers in warding symbols, as though to fend
off the curse that had struck down the king.

Rumors flew among the few people who braved the

markets. They whispered that the king’s family was cursed.
First Yasmin, then Andros, and now, that very morning, as
rumor would have it, Queen Rozalind had been attacked, as
well.

Zofi couldn’t help but think about what she’d learned from
her mother’s notes. About the child Yasmin and Andros had
conceived together, her hidden half sibling. Child of a Vulgar
Arts curse. Stronger than anyone in the Arts…

Zofi and Vidal crouched under the awning of an empty

market stall, half a block from Ilian Keep. After switching
their mounts a second time and riding all morning, they’d
arrived in the early afternoon, and found a bevy of Talons at
every door of the Keep.

“We need to get in there,” Zofi whispered.

Vidal frowned. “They’re not going to let you just waltz

inside, Zofi. Let me go ahead, bring a message to your
sisters.”

“While I do what? Hide out in the city, praying I find some

Traveler-friendly

merchant to camp with, one who won’t recognize the king’s

banished daughter?”

She shook her head. Already, afternoon sun lit the exterior
of the Keep, made it appear to glow, each of the ten towers
a different color of shining stonewood.

Every minute that ticked past was another minute the heir
had to prepare.

Who knew what was happening within those walls already?

She thought about the rumored attack on Rozalind, and an
empty pit yawned in her gut.
It was only a matter of time before the heir went after Ren
or Akeylah next.

“You’ll have to tithe just to get inside,” Vidal was arguing.

“You’ll be defenseless in there.”

She grinned and touched the concealed blade at the small

of her back.

“Hardly.” Plus, she could feel the weight of the boosts her
mother had saved for her. Five boosts, concealed within
different pockets along her thighs. Six tithes she could work
today in total. It would be a shame to spend one before she
was even through the door, but if she must, she must.

She’d left herself unshielded today, the way she’d been

doing ever since she left Kolonya City almost two weeks
ago. Only now, standing in the shadow of the Keep, knowing
that somewhere within its walls lurked the heir, did Zofi’s
skin crawl. She was all too aware of how strong the heir
was. How vulnerable she and her sisters were.

But she couldn’t shield herself. She’d need the Arts just to
get inside, as Vidal pointed out.

Besides, with a shield raised, she couldn’t fight back.

On their way through the city gate, while Zofi had played
the part of an injured local Vidal was escorting to a medic,
he’d asked about the state of things.

The guards told him Akeylah was planning a Blood

Ceremony tomorrow night.

Why, none of them could fathom. “She’s the only viable heir
left,” one guard commented. “She’s already been
acknowledged. Why all the fuss?”
“Disrespectful, if you ask me,” another had piped up. “She
should be focused on her father’s death, not her own
crowning.”

Now, however, Zofi wondered if there was more going on

than just an unnecessary ceremony. “What are they doing?”
Zofi murmured to Vidal. She watched a pair of Talons stop a
man who trundled up to the Keep with kitchen supplies.
They tapped their arms, and after a moment, the wagon
driver withdrew a thin blade from beneath his shirt.

Vidal cursed. “Sun above. They’re doing tithe checks.” In

response to her blank stare, he explained. “Anyone who
enters the Keep needs to perform a basic tithe.” As they
watched, the driver’s skin began to shine, brilliant silver

with an impervious tithe. “It’s to ensure nobody is tithing for

camouflage, making themselves appear like someone else
while they enter.”

“I’ve never heard of tithe checks.” Zofi ran her tongue along
the inside of her teeth.

He sighed. “Yes, well, I’ve never actually seen it done before

either. I think the last time Talons were ordered to do this
was back when my father was still serving. Genalese forces
invaded far enough up the River Leath to come within
striking distance of the Keep. Back then the tithe checks
also served to make sure everyone entering the Keep was
actually from the Reaches and not a Genalese soldier in
disguise.”

Zofi frowned. “I never heard about an invasion in Kolonya

City.”

“It was about eighteen, nineteen years ago?” Vidal guessed.

He squinted at the towers. “It failed, anyway, which is why it
doesn’t get mentioned much.

Well, that and Yasmin didn’t like to publicize it widely. But

among the Talons, the way she stopped the invasion made
her a legend.”

Zofi flashed him a curious glance. “Why? How did she do

it?”

“A group of Genalese-led insurgents had recruited hired

blades. Mostly disgruntled Eastern and Southern soldiers,
but a few Kolonyans, too,” Vidal explained. “Their plan was
to sneak up the River Leath posing as migrant performers,
and break into the Keep. Attack us from within.” He shook
his head.

“It would’ve worked if Yasmin hadn’t believed the rumors

everyone else dismissed. Stories about Genalese offering
payment for seasonal work down on the coasts. She went
herself, located and infiltrated the group alone. Somehow
she communicated their every action back to Andros
without being detected.”

Zofi had a pretty good idea how she’d done that. Her
mother’s notes about the mental bond tithe flashed through
her mind.

“On the last day,” Vidal went on, “the group was meant to
cross the Living Wall into the city. But Yasmin attacked them
from within. Even before the Talons’ reinforcements arrived,
she’d already carved her way through a dozen of the
several hundred attackers.”

Zofi whistled under her breath. “No wonder she still gave
me a run for my money in training if that’s how she battled
in her heyday.”
“You remind me of her, you know,” Vidal said as they both
turned to study the Keep once more. The Talons searched
the shining silver driver’s wagon thoroughly, while they
waited for his tithe to fade.

She scowled. “Am I that unpleasant?”

He laughed. “No, I just mean… You left everything, your

whole band, to ride

back here and protect this country. Even though you claim
to despise Kolonya.”

“I don’t despise it,” she said after a pause. “I just think it

can be so much more than it is now. What use is having the
kind of strength and power Kolonya does if you don’t
improve the world with it?”

When she glanced at him again, Vidal was smiling. “Sounds

like someone’s becoming a patriot, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t.” But she grinned, too.

Across the lawns, the driver’s tithe faded and the Talons
waved him on past.

“Come on,” Zofi whispered.

“This isn’t going to work.” Vidal held out an arm to stop her.
“They’ll make me perform a tithe, which means you’d need
to remain unseen for longer than is humanly possible.”

“Longer than possible for you, maybe.” Her boosts weighed

heavy against her skin. “Remember the time I fought you in
training? I can stay invisible for far longer than it takes to
walk through a set of doors.”
He almost smiled at the memory, before he caught himself.
“I beat you that day.”

“But I kept tithing longer than you,” she pointed out.

“This won’t be like training, Zofi. If they catch you sneaking

in, we’ll both hang for it.”

“Just trust me, Vidal. I know what I’m doing.” She said the
latter with more certainty than she felt. All she knew right
now was that she needed to speak to her sisters. Hear from
them what exactly had happened, and make a plan to fix it.

Finally, with a sigh of defeat, Vidal strode toward the Keep.

Zofi kept pace with him until they reached the broad lawn
that led up to the base of the towers.

Then she drew her longknife and dragged the edge across
the back of her arm.

After the panicked thoughts that had been chasing through

her head all day—

every day since she learned of her father’s death, in truth—

it was a relief to focus all her senses on a tithe, and nothing
more. She absorbed the world around her, shifted herself to
match it with every step she took, until her body went
invisible against the empty streets, the warm sunlit grass.

She had no space in her brain left to worry or plot. She just
followed Vidal, one step after another, and stayed invisible.

They made it halfway across the front lawn before a guard

stepped down from her post to wave at Vidal. “Back at
last?” the Talon joked, pushing her helm back to reveal a
plump, friendly face. “What kept you, enjoying some
Traveler hospitality?”
Zofi clenched her fists at the girl’s mocking tone, though
she didn’t let annoyance break her concentration. She
continued to tithe, making sure all the girl saw beside Vidal
was an empty street. Not Zofi at his elbow, one hand
hovering over the boost she’d need soon.

“Just being thorough,” Vidal replied. Zofi hoped this girl

didn’t know him well. Hoped she couldn’t hear the tremor in
his voice. “If you’ll excuse me, Ulie, I’m not feeling my best,
and I still need to report to the captain.…” He moved to
pass, but the girl, Ulie, apparently, barred his path.

“Just a second.” Ulie tapped her forearm. “Sorry. Can’t let

you pass until you tithe. Regulations, you know.”

Her partner had stepped forward, as well, and greeted Vidal

with a grin.

Vidal drew a bloodletter. “Anything in particular?”

“Any tithe you like,” she said. “Just make it a long one.”

Zofi noticed Vidal’s shoulders tense with worry. Still, to his

credit, he didn’t protest. Only flicked the bloodletter across
his arm and began a speed tithe. The effect was like
watching a person turn into a fly—suddenly his arms moved
too quickly to keep track of, and when he stepped to the
side, he seemed to blur across the grass at an impossible
pace.

Zofi realized why he chose it—to focus the Talons’ attention

on his movements, in case her own tithe faltered. Not that
either of these Talons could fail to notice if a Traveler
materialized out of thin air in front of them, but still.

She appreciated it.

Her skin itched with the end of her initial tithe.

“Why the tithe checks?” Vidal asked. Or tried to. But his
voice sped up, too, so the words all blended together into
one quick phrase that left Ulie blinking for a moment while
she worked out what he said.

Zofi used the distraction to slap the first boost on her thigh.
Fresh energy flooded her veins and allowed her to hold her
focus, remain unseen.

“Precaution. Nobody’s allowed out without a check either.

Not since the queen was attacked.”

“Genal?” Vidal’s voice still sounded too quick, higher-pitched

than usual. It would have been funny if not for the situation.

“Doubtful.” Ulie stepped closer—nearly on top of Zofi, who

had to skip backward out of the Talon’s way. “We’ve reason
to suspect Lady Florencia. She managed to slip out of her
chambers, probably by tithing. Hence all this.”

Zofi felt an odd surge of pride.

She reached for another boost at her thigh, and cracked it

just as Vidal’s

speed tithe began to fade. Ulie’s partner glanced in her

direction, brow furrowed, as though he’d heard something.
Silently, Zofi cursed herself for getting too cocky.

“If there’s been an attack, why are we holding a Blood

Ceremony tomorrow?” Vidal’s speech slowed to normal as
his tithe petered out. “Shouldn’t we minimize the royal
family’s exposure?”
Ulie shrugged. “Above my pay grade. All I know is Lady
Akeylah insists.

Going to need all hands on security at the event, though.”

“I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Vidal affected a

deep sigh, and the Talons parted with sympathetic grimaces
to let him pass.

Zofi leaped forward, practically on top of Vidal. She tiptoed

so close she could feel the heat radiate from his skin, and
her toes nudged his heels every couple of steps until they
reached the tower entrance. Vidal held it open a second
longer than strictly necessary, enough for her to nip through
the gap after him.

Only then did they both let out matching sighs of relief.

“How in Sun’s name did you manage to hold that tithe so

long?” Vidal whispered a few moments later when she
reappeared at his elbow.

“A girl needs to keep some secrets.” She grinned, and

bobbed her head toward the nearest stairwell. “Shall we?”

Just then, footsteps sounded. Vidal stepped in front of her

just in time to block the view as a pair of Talons strode past,
in marching formation. He saluted, and Zofi shut her eyes
and pressed her face against his back, praying nobody
stopped long enough to notice two pairs of legs where there
should’ve been one.

She was just about to reach for another boost when the
Talons called a greeting and continued to march. When they
rounded the far corner, she and Vidal exchanged worried
glances and hurried in the opposite direction.
“We won’t last long with this many patrols around,” Vidal
murmured.

“There.” Zofi pointed at a plain wooden door. A storage

closet of some kind.

Vidal yanked it open, and they both stared at the space

within. It contained several buckets, some cleaning cloths,
and a stack of soap bars almost as tall as Zofi.

“You won’t fit,” Vidal was saying, just as they heard more
footsteps, from a different corridor this time, perpendicular
to the one in which they stood.

“Find Akeylah,” Zofi murmured, climbing over the buckets

into the closet.

She had to stand with a foot in each bucket and lean behind
the tower of soap to squeeze inside. “Tell her where I am.”

He hesitated, but the footfalls left him with no choice. Vidal

wedged the door

shut, and Zofi held her breath against the astringent soap
smell, waiting.

By the time Vidal returned, Zofi’s legs had cramped and

she’d lost feeling in the arm she was balancing on the soap
shelf.

“Quick,” Vidal said as he yanked open the door. “We’re

between patrols.”
Zofi nearly tripped out of the closet in relief and scurried
after him to a narrow passage, which led down a series of
stone steps. They curved under the alder tower, and
eventually turned into a muddy tunnel. Finally, Vidal pointed
her toward what looked like a solid rock wall. “Akeylah’s in
there,” he said. “I’ll wait out here, guard your backs.”

Zofi approached the wall. Stared at it for a while, until she

noticed the cool breeze drifting through hairline cracks
around the edges. She gripped one of the protruding rocks,
hanging on by her fingernails, and tugged.

A hidden door swung outward, and she crossed inside, heart

in her throat.

In the center of the room stood Akeylah and Ren. Alive.

Unharmed.

“Zofi…” Akeylah couldn’t even finish her sentence.

Zofi raced forward and flung her arms around her sister. An
instant later, Ren wrapped her arms around them both, and
Zofi shut her eyes, let herself savor the embrace, just for an
instant.

“You’re both safe,” Zofi said, throat tight.

“Safe is a relative term,” Ren replied, voice muffled where

her face was pressed against the scarf Zofi still wore around
her curls.

“But compared to Father and Rozalind…” Akeylah broke

from the embrace first, pain scrawled across her face.

Zofi kept a hand on Akeylah’s shoulder for support. “The

guards out front said she was attacked?”
“We were wrong.” Akeylah looked back and forth from Zofi
to Ren. To judge by the bags under her eyes, Zofi wondered
if Akeylah had gotten any sleep at all in the past couple of
weeks. “About everything. About Rozalind. She’s not the
heir; she’s the heir’s latest victim.” In a breathless voice,
Akeylah recounted the morning’s events. Everything
Rozalind had told her, and the heir’s subsequent attack.

When Akeylah got to the part where she asked if the heir
was their sister, Ren looked shocked. But Zofi found herself
nodding. “That makes sense,” she said,

“given what I learned about Andros and our aunt Yasmin.”

If Zofi thought Ren was surprised at learning they had

another sibling, it was nothing compared to the expression
on her sister’s face when Zofi explained where she came
from.

“Incest? ” Ren hissed.

“They must have been desperate,” Akeylah murmured. “To

perform a tithe like that, one with such dire consequences.”

“I have some idea why they did it.” Zofi recounted the story
Vidal had told her about Yasmin single-handedly stopping a
Genalese attack on Kolonya City.

“Still.” Ren rubbed at her temple. “There are laws against

incest. Ever since Queen Aumelline’s time, when a few mad
nobles tried to breed children stronger in the Arts. It left the
children with horrible diseases, health problems.

Nowadays acolytes even require a tithe that proves no blood

relation during Kolonyan wedding ceremonies.”
Zofi bobbed her head. “Now imagine you’ve grown up your
entire life hearing your parents’ every thought—how they
govern the realm, every decision they make. But you’ve got
no chance of inheriting their position, simply because of
who you are. Because of how they created you.”

“The heir does seem to resent her parents,” Akeylah

murmured. “From how she talked about Father.”

“What makes you so you sure the heir is a girl?” Zofi asked.

“Just a comment she made.” Akeylah furrowed her brow.

“She said she had no real family, that she was ‘the daughter
of the moons,’ and she knew how to clean up Kolonya’s
messes. Then she asked me if I really thought Andros was a
good father.…”

Zofi shrugged. “Makes no sense to me.”

But a funny look had come over Ren’s face. Halfway

between realization and denial. “How long ago was this
Genalese attack Yasmin stopped?”

“Vidal said eighteen or nineteen years ago.” Zofi considered

Ren. Her sister had her plotting face on. “What is it?”

Ren ignored her, spoke faster, almost to herself. “So we’re

looking for a girl who knows the Keep well, is about my age,
hates her parents…” She raised her voice. “Akeylah, when
was Rozalind attacked?”

“This morning, around dawn.”

“So whoever did it would still be tired from the curse, do you
think?” Ren took a step toward the cavern exit.
Akeylah’s frown deepened. “I’d be flat on my back for weeks
if I did what she did—cursing Rozalind and making me
hallucinate at the same time? But the

heir is a lot stronger than me. Or any of us.”

“But if I went looking for her now, do you think she’d still be
visibly weakened?” Ren pressed.

“You’d have to know who you were looking for,” Zofi broke
in. “We can’t exactly canvass the entire Keep trying to
guess which distant relation looks the sleepiest. Any more
than we can order them all to strip and show us if they’ve
got Vulgar Arts scars.”

Ren glanced to Akeylah. “How visible are the scars? I mean,

do they show through fabric?”

In response, Akeylah drew her skirts up. The faint blue glow
on her thigh pulsed with her heartbeat. “You have to wear
dark colors or very thick fabric, I’ve found.”

Ren shut her eyes. Squared her shoulders, as though

deciding something.

When she opened her eyes again, they locked on Zofi.

“Would you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

Ren’s gaze drifted toward Zofi’s hip. To her knife. “I think I

know where to look. But I’ve a feeling I might need some
backup.…”
26

Florencia

The maids’ quarters were empty at this hour. Ren’s

footsteps echoed across the familiar floors as she crossed to
the large chalkboard where Oruna marked the girls on duty
and their current assignments.

How did I not see it sooner?

But how could she have? How could she have guessed
about Andros and Yasmin, how far they’d go to bind
themselves, all the havoc they’d wreak in doing so?

A girl about her own age. A girl ostracized by her parents,

who longed for their approval, their recognition. A girl who
grew up with their voices inside her head, believing she
deserved the throne. A girl who had to watch it offered to
others on a gilded platter while she remained in the
shadows.

The last ugly skeleton hidden in the family closet.

The daughter of the moons. Who knew how to clean up

Kolonya’s messes.

It’s the moons who favor girls like us, they always said when
they snuck around the Keep. After they’d finished cleaning
up the nobles’ messes. This is madness, part of her
whispered. And yet…

Ren had always felt like the heir hated her more than her
sisters. Maybe it was just the drowning in the baths, or the
way the heir kept insisting Akeylah put her on trial, but to
Ren, it felt personal.
What if it was? What if the heir hated Ren because they’d
known all along who she was? Because they were in the
exact same situation, until only Ren was raised out of the
shadows.

Ren stopped dead before the schedule. She’d hoped, prayed

she might be mistaken. But there it was scrawled in chalk. A
white stroke through her name,

to indicate she’d begged off sick today.

This is wrong. It’s impossible, she thought. Yet with every

step she took toward her best friend’s door, her certainty
grew.

Somewhere, deep down, part of her had known.

The new gowns, all in dark colors, long-sleeved. The offers

of information on Lexana, the insistence on helping research
Rozalind.

Things are actually better with my mother now, she’d said.

Ren’s gorge rose as she realized what that meant.

Things were better now that her mother was dead.

But my father… I just want him to say he’s proud of me, just
once. Because he’d refused to acknowledge her? Or
because she was a product of incest, the child he wanted to
hide from the world?

Ren rapped on Audrina’s door. No reply. But the knob turned

easily in her hand. She pushed the door inward just as her
friend sat up in bed.

“Who’s—oh. Ren. Hi.” Audrina bore deep bags under her

eyes, and her face had a sunken look to it. Still, she forced a
polite smile, strained at the edges.

“Can I help you?”

“No, Aud, this time I thought I should help you.” Ren

stepped into the room, only a single pace. She leaned her
back against the wall and surveyed the narrow space, a
mirror image of the one in which Ren had spent so many
years. Just a twin bed, with slim shelves built into the wall
next to it, and a foot of space between to dress in.

Ren squinted at Audrina’s shelves. Among the darning

needles and piles of yarn, she spotted a bloodletter, blood
still caked on its blade.

“I figured you’d be exhausted right about now,” Ren said.

“After what you did to Rozalind.” She tore her gaze from the
shelf to meet her friend’s once more.

For a split second, the span of a heartbeat, she thought she

was wrong. She wanted to be wrong. Desperately. Audrina
was her oldest friend, her best friend, her one true ally in
the Keep.

Or so she’d believed.

But Audrina dropped the polite smile. It bloomed into a grin,

broad and feral, and it was like watching a mask crack and
peel. The girl Ren thought she knew crumbled away to
reveal the monster underneath.

“What gave me away?” Audrina asked.

“You told Akeylah you were the daughter of the moons.

Because the moons favored us, right? And you clean up
Kolonya’s messes—did you think I’d forget
how we spent our lives down here?”

“You forgot a lot of things about our friendship.” Aud’s hand

crept toward the bloodletter.

“Don’t.” Ren drew her own blade from beneath her skirts.
She’d shielded that morning, but Audrina might not know
that. Besides, it never hurt to have a blade in her fist. A
blade she could use for more than just bloodletting if the
need arose.

She clenched the hilt tight and prayed Audrina wouldn’t be

able to see the tremor in her fingertips.

“Going to curse me, sister?” Aud tilted her head. “I wouldn’t

blame you. You must want revenge for what I’ve done. To
you, to those bastards you chose over me, your supposed
best friend. You preferred them, too, just like Father. You
three are the acceptable daughters.”

“Let me help you, Audrina. You’re sick.” She dared a step

forward.

“Sick?” Audrina flung back the covers and launched to her

knees. Quick as a blink, she grabbed the bloodletter from
her shelf, but she didn’t tithe. Not yet.

Ren held her breath, shaking inside.

“Yes, Ren, you’re right. I am sick. Sick to death of watching

you be handed everything I deserve.”

Ren’s heart cracked. “Audrina, I didn’t know—”

“How are you any better than me? You’ve killed hundreds of
Kolonyans. You committed treason, for Sun’s sake.
Everything I’ve done, I did to protect Kolonya.” The
bloodletter trembled in her fist. “My entire life, I’ve been a
weapon. Forged by my parents so Yasmin could go hunt
some Genalese. They used my brain like their playground,
shared every plot, every dark thought, and they didn’t even
care that I heard everything.”

“It’s not fair, Aud. You shouldn’t have been put through
that,” Ren whispered.

To her surprise, her friend laughed. “Put through it? It made

me who I am.

They made me stronger, smarter. Willing to sacrifice

anything for the throne.

They created the perfect weapon, in the end.”

“Is that why you killed them?” Ren said it to remind herself
who this was, what she’d done. Because right now, she was
tempted to believe in the old Audrina. Her best friend, the
girl who was always willing to help her. To lend a hand, be a
shoulder to cry on, even a spy when Ren had needed one.

But Ren knew better now. She is my enemy. She always has
been.

Audrina rolled her eyes. “You’re just like them. So

shortsighted. I didn’t hate

my parents for creating me; I hated them for not trusting

what they made. Even after I was old enough to explain I’d
heard everything they planned over the years, every council
decision, every concern and triumph. They still didn’t
understand. They were worried that blubbering Acolyte
Casca might tell someone who I was, so I killed him. Did
they thank me? No, they hated me more, feared me for it. I
could hear it in their minds.”
Audrina turned the bloodletter over in her palm. Considered
its edge. “No matter how hard I worked, they only ever
looked at me with disgust, because I reminded them of what
they’d done. How they’d created me.” She bared her teeth.
“I tried to tell Mother about the crimes you and your bastard
sisters committed, that night in the sky gardens. She
wouldn’t listen; she just went on and on about my sins.
Yelled at me for threatening you all, for ruining Father’s
plans.”

“That’s when you pushed her,” Ren murmured. It wasn’t a

question.

Aud wiped at her cheek with one fist. “I didn’t mean to. I
was just so angry.

…” She scowled. “But when she fell, a weight lifted. One

less voice in my head calling me a monster.”

“So you decided to kill me next,” Ren guessed. “What’s a

little bit more murder, once you’ve offed your own mother?”

“You’re traitors,” Audrina replied simply. “You deserve to be

punished.”

“I deserved to drown in a bathtub?” Ren raised her

bloodletter.

So did Audrina. “You’re just as bad as Father. You used me

the same way he did. ‘Oh, Audrina, my best friend, you
mean so much to me… Now could you please spy on
Sarella? Run these errands? Follow Lexana around, because
I think that bumbling idiot is blackmailing me. Oh, are you
upset, Aud? Let me bribe you with a fancy dinner and we’ll
call it even.’”

Ren flinched.
For a second, real pain flickered across Audrina’s face. “I
thought you were my friend, Ren, but you’re just like the
rest of my family. I’m nothing but a tool to you.” She tugged
up her sleeve. “Unfortunately for you, this tool has a mind of
her own.”

Ren’s heart lurched at the sight of Audrina’s arm. Bright

blue scars crisscrossed her skin. They glowed even brighter
where they intersected, nearly blinding. No wonder she
needed the long sleeves, the dark gowns.

Ren raised her bloodletter, too, but she pointed it at Audrina

instead. What am I going to do, stab my best friend? But
what else could she do now, except bluff?

“Killing your way to the throne will only prove your parents
right about you,

Aud.”

Aud’s smile twisted, went vicious. “I never said they were

wrong.” She rested her bloodletter against her forearm.
“This country needs someone like me.

Someone who does what’s necessary.” Then her blade

flashed, and Ren stumbled backward on instinct.

She’d shielded that morning. She shouldn’t feel any effect

from Audrina’s efforts. But her breath came shorter, harder.
Panic, perhaps?

She looked down at her hands and dropped the knife in

shock.

Impossible.
She was shielded. She should be impervious to curses. And
yet, tendrils of black appeared under her fingernails. Inched
toward her knuckles. Small thin spiderwebs at first, but
growing by the second.

Across the room, Audrina laughed, eyes glazed with the

tithe. “I… told you.

I’m… strong,” she gasped.

The webs crawled to Ren’s wrists. Surged up her arms.

“Zofi,” Ren shouted.

Her sister sprang from the main room where she’d been
hiding, crouched just out of sight, listening to the
conversation. Zofi took one glance at Ren and slapped a
hand against her leg. Ren watched in confusion, not sure
what Zofi was doing—it didn’t look like any tithe she’d ever
seen. Yet a dark trickle of red appeared against the brown
fabric of Zofi’s breeches.

A second later, Ren felt as though a warm, thick blanket had

enveloped her.

The spidering curse began to fade from her hands,

shriveling against her skin even as she watched.

Zofi. Fighting back Audrina’s curse.

“Stop. Her,” Zofi muttered through gritted teeth, and Ren

jarred herself back to reality.

Ren snatched the bloodletter she’d dropped and leaped for

the bed. She grabbed Aud’s hair in a fist, wrenched the girl’s
head to the side, and pressed the blade against her throat.
In response, Audrina screamed.

It was a deafening, window-shattering sound. Footsteps

thundered from all directions, and Ren staggered backward,
releasing her.

“Help!” Audrina shouted at the top of her lungs. “The

traitors are here.” She smiled as she said it. At the same
time, Aud dragged the bloodletter across her arm once
more. Ren flinched, expecting an attack. Then she stared in
horror as Audrina’s glowing Vulgar Arts scars winked out of
sight.

A camouflage tithe. Hiding the evidence of her crimes. So if

anyone burst into this room now, they wouldn’t see the
monster under their noses.

Zofi grabbed Ren’s arm and yanked her into motion. “We
have to go.”

“But—”

“Call the Talons!” Audrina lurched after them into the maid’s
chambers. She dove for a bellpull on the wall. Too late, Ren
realized which one it was. She grabbed Aud’s wrist to stop
her, but she was too slow. A deafening clamor rang through
her skull, echoed through the room.

The emergency alert. Every Talon and mender in the Keep

would be racing toward the maids’ chambers now.

“Run!” Zofi shouted in her ear, and together they took off at
a sprint.

“This way.” Ren took the lead, bolting for the passage into
the boys’
dormitory. They sprinted along it. But then, at the far end,
shadows appeared, racing their way. Uniformed shadows.

Talons.

“Right,” Ren barked, and nearly shoved Zofi through a wall.

The side passage led past the dungeons, out into the
practice fields. If they could get outside, they could make for
the city, lose the Talons in the cobbled streets. They just
needed to—

Crash.

Ren collided headlong with a pair of stocky figures that

seemed to materialize out of nowhere. Talons from an
adjoining corridor.

Zofi drove her fist into one Talon’s throat, and kicked at the
other’s legs. But her movements were sluggish, tired after
her tithe. The first Talon choked on her blow, but the second
dodged her kick. A split second later, something pricked
Ren’s neck. She looked at Zofi, saw a feathered dart
protruding from her sister’s shoulder.

The world went dark.

27

Akeylah

Roz.” Akeylah hovered on the threshold.

The queen rolled over to squint through sleep-blurred eyes.
“Akeylah. What happened?”

Akeylah crossed to her bedside. Rozalind had been moved

to the general nursing wing today, so menders could care
for her in rotation.

The curse had taken a toll.

Akeylah had just finished speaking to the mender in charge.

They hadn’t told Rozalind about the baby yet. They thought
Akeylah would be better equipped to break the news.

Her stomach knotted with a million different fears. Not least

of which was Ren and Zofi, who’d gone off half an hour ago
to follow Ren’s hunch. Ren had insisted Akeylah stay behind,
in case it went badly. Zofi was the warrior, anyway.

But Akeylah couldn’t help feeling like she should have gone.
Like her sisters were walking into the viper’s den while she
sat up here, safe and sound. So she’d come to the infirmary
to distract herself, hoping for good news.

She should have known better.

She perched on a visitor’s chair next to the sterile, narrow

bed, and gripped the queen’s hand. “You’re safe,” Akeylah
murmured. “That’s what matters.” The backs of her eyes
stung. “Rozalind, I should have listened to you—”

“Don’t you dare apologize.” Rozalind tightened her fingers

around Akeylah’s. Tugged her forward, until Akeylah slid off
her chair and onto the bed instead. Rozalind lifted their
clasped hands. Kissed Akeylah’s fingertips, one by one. “I
would have suspected me, too, in your shoes. After all, I
tried to make
you lock up your own sisters.”

“You were trying to protect me. I realize that now.” I protect

you, first and foremost. Rozalind was trying to keep that
promise.

“I knew someone was threatening you. Your sisters seemed

the most likely culprits. They were both in line for the
throne, same as you. But I should have trusted them. Should
have trusted you, when it came to your own family.”

Yes, well. The heir was her family, too. “Being family doesn’t
make people trustworthy,” Akeylah replied. “It’s the choices
they make. The promises they keep or break.” She traced
her thumb across the back of Rozalind’s hand. “You kept
your promise to me. I’m the one who broke it. I let the
blackmailer make me think…” Her voice cracked.

“No.” Rozalind reached up with her other hand. Tucked a

plait behind Akeylah’s ear. “I’m the one who should have
been honest with you from the beginning. Told you about
everything, no matter how much I worried it would change
things between us.”

Akeylah couldn’t help it. She glanced at Rozalind’s stomach.

The menders had tried their hardest. Used every medicine

available. But in the end, the curse had taken too great a
toll on the queen’s body.

Rozalind caught Akeylah’s look. Her free hand drifted to her

belly. “The baby?” she whispered.

Akeylah shook her head, just once. “I’m so sorry, Rozalind.”

The queen closed her eyes. A tear leaked. Then another.

When she opened them once more, she stared woodenly at
the drapes strung around the bed. Her gaze fixed on
something Akeylah couldn’t see. “You know, I…” She
swallowed hard. Cleared her throat. “It was a duty. To bear
heirs. I was aware of what would be expected of me when I
agreed to come here, to wed a king. But I didn’t expect to
feel…” Her hand tightened into a fist over her stomach. “I
just thought maybe this time the child would survive,” she
continued in a whisper. “They seemed strong… And
innocent, in all this.”

Akeylah laid down alongside Rozalind. She reached out, and

Rozalind buried her face in Akeylah’s neck. Akeylah held her
tight. Felt warm tears trickle across her bare skin, and
traced Rozalind’s back in small circles. “It’s not fair,” she
whispered into the queen’s mess of curls. “It’s not right.”

So much loss. Andros. Yasmin. The baby. When would it end?

With Akeylah or her sisters in the Necropolis next?

She held on to Rozalind until the tears dried. Until the queen
sank back into the sheets, exhausted.

“You should rest.” Akeylah kissed her temple. “You’ve been

through a lot.”

“What about you?” Rozalind’s gaze sharpened, as though

she’d only just remembered the rest of the story. “Is the
blackmailer still demanding something from you?”

“Trying to,” Akeylah said. “But Ren thinks she knows who it
might be.

Something the blackmailer said to me when she cursed you,

reminded Ren of—”

As if in response, a deafening crash of bells interrupted her.

Akeylah startled upright. So did Rozalind, though the latter
groaned and leaned back against her sheets, a hand
pressed to her stomach. “The emergency alarm,” Rozalind
spat through gritted teeth. “You should—”

Akeylah was already on her feet, racing toward the

entrance. Halfway out of it, she collided with the head
mender, his brown robes a whirlwind around his feet. “It’s
coming from the maids’ chamber,” he called to the room in
general. A few other menders leaped up. “Someone needs
help.”

Akeylah’s stomach turned to rock. The maids’ chamber.

Ren didn’t share details about her hunch. She said she
wanted to wait until she was sure. But she’d mentioned she
was heading to the servants’ quarters…

“Rozalind, I’ll be back soon,” Akeylah called over her

shoulder. Then she joined the flood of menders who raced
from the nursing wing. Together they hurried through the
halls, past curious onlookers and Talons sprinting in the
same direction.

By the time they reached the maids’ chambers, the doors

had been secured.

The menders parted for Akeylah, whispers preceding her as

they recognized the acting regent and sank into curtsies. At
the entrance, Akeylah found a pair of Talons at attention.

“Good news, my lady,” one Talon said in a voice like gravel.

“We’ve apprehended the traitors.”

“Who?” she asked, head swimming, still thinking about

Ren’s hunch. About the heir.
The Talon frowned. “Lady Florencia, of course. As well as
Lady Zofi, who it seems has disobeyed your late father’s
wishes and returned despite her banishment.”

“We believe they may have been colluding,” another Talon

spoke up. “In the attacks on your father and Queen
Rozalind.”

“We have this maid to thank for her quick, heroic actions.”
The first Talon stepped aside, and Akeylah locked eyes with
a girl she recognized.

Audrina. The girl she’d found in Ren’s chambers. Who had

walked with

Akeylah to the baths that fateful day, when Ren nearly died.
When the heir attacked.

Suddenly, the pieces clicked.

She could still hear the heir’s voice. Saying she knew how to
clean up Kolonya’s messes. What if she meant that literally?
She’d been stuck down here like Ren, acting the servant,
when really…

Akeylah replayed the day Ren nearly drowned in her mind.

She’d knocked on Ren’s door, startled Audrina out of bed.
She thought she’d interrupted Audrina’s nap. Instead, she
realized, she must have walked in on Audrina in the middle
of her curse…

Today, Audrina looked even more tired than she had that
morning. Unlike that day, however, a tiny smile played at
the edges of the girl’s mouth. Barely noticeable. Gone the
longer she held Akeylah’s eye.
“I saw them creeping through the corridor,” Audrina said to
the Talons, though she kept her gaze on Akeylah. “I
recognized Ren—excuse me, Lady Florencia. She used to be
my friend; I never thought she’d do something like this.”
Audrina’s voice trembled, frighteningly convincing. “I told
her she should turn herself in. That’s when she and Lady
Zofi attacked me. I didn’t know what to do—I just grabbed
the bellpull…”

“You did the right thing,” the second Talon reassured her in
a friendly tone.

“Where are my sisters now?” Akeylah asked. It took every

ounce of self-control she had to maintain an even-keeled
tone.

“In the dungeon, my lady. Sleeping off the effects of the low-
dose phantasm venom we used to capture them.”

“Notify me the moment they wake.” Akeylah held Audrina’s

eye. “In the meantime, I’d like a moment with this girl.
Alone.”

The Talons exchanged glances. But when Akeylah strode

forward, into the maids’ chambers, they filed out obediently.
The instant the doors shut, Audrina broke into a wide smile.
“Wise decision, puppet. I would’ve hated to jail you, too.”

Akeylah balled her fists. “If you think I’m still dancing on
your strings—”

“You’d be wise to,” Audrina interrupted.

“Rozalind lost the baby. You can’t curse her anymore.”

Akeylah glared at the girl.
“Perhaps. But I’ve got two new sisters to experiment on
now. Did you know that I’ve grown strong enough to eke my
way through your little shield tithes?”

Audrina raised a hand and wiggled her fingers in Akeylah’s

face.

“I don’t believe you,” Akeylah snapped.

She shrugged, utterly unconcerned. “Then test me, and

we’ll see which one dies first. Ren or Zofi, hmm. I despise
Ren, but Zofi’s the more dangerous of the pair.…”

“What do you expect me to do, just hand you the throne?

Offer up all of the Reaches as collateral?”

“That’s exactly what I expect, puppet. The throne is mine,

and I’ll take it one way or another. If I have to perform the
Blood Ceremony with you in chains, I will. And my first act
as queen will be to execute you for cursing our father.”

She tapped her chin. “On the other hand, you could be
smart. Pass the mantle peacefully, and I’ll let you live. You
could even remain at court. We’ll need a new Eastern
ambassador, since our current one is a traitor.”

Akeylah swallowed hard. Her mind raced. Play this right.

“My sisters live, too,” she finally said in a low voice. “If I do
this for you.”

“I knew you were the smart one.” Audrina’s grin widened.

“Your sisters can’t stay in Kolonya, but Zofi can return to her
people—provided she stays there this time. And Ren can
head east. We’ll blame her treason on Danton, since it was
his fault to begin with, really. As long as she stays
somewhere I never have to lay eyes on her again, I can be
reasonable.”
“How do I know you’ll keep your word?” Akeylah crossed her
arms. “What’s to stop you from cursing all of us the second
you have the throne?”

“Nothing.” Audrina spread her hands, palms up in a gesture

of peace. “But then again, there’s nothing to stop you from
cursing me either. Mutually assured destruction is the only
insurance I can offer you.” She shrugged, still smiling.

“It’s the way of the Reaches, isn’t it? The irony of the gods’
gift. The Arts made bloodlines both our greatest strength
and deepest weakness.”

Akeylah studied her opponent. Then she extended a hand,

slowly. “Once I perform the Blood Ceremony, you let Ren
and Zofi walk free.”

“And you, Akeylah. You forgot yourself.” Audrina clasped her

hand.

“Agreed. I get the throne, you get your family.”

Akeylah tightened her grip, hard enough to hurt. “We have a

deal.”

28

Zofi

She woke to the rattling of chains. It echoed through her

skull, pounded against her temples. Zofi groaned and rolled
over, only to find herself squinting through iron slats at a
puddle of her own sick beneath her. Her hand went
immediately to her waist. Found her belt empty, her blades
missing. Even the last two boosts she’d stored in her
pockets were gone. She felt the empty pockets where they
used to be, and panic clawed at her throat.

She was unarmed. Helpless.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Ren called from

somewhere in the distance, and Zofi forced herself to forget
self-pity.

She squinted at the familiar surroundings instead. Dank,

moist walls, a hard-packed earth floor, the wrought-iron
bench on which she lay. And on the far side of the narrow
enclosure, metal bars, floor to ceiling.

The dungeons.

“What happened?” Her voice came out in a croak. She

cleared her throat, hard, and the cough nearly made her
retch again.

“Phantasm darts.” Ren’s voice drifted over again, near at

hand, though she couldn’t see her sister through the gloom.
She squinted at the bars, and spotted a thin hand gesturing
at her.

Ren was in the next cell over.

Zofi rolled off the bench, hit the floor hard on hands and
knees, and sucked a breath through gritted teeth. When she
tried to move, she found herself dragging a chain,
connected to her left ankle, bound to cast-iron hook in the
wall. “I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.”
“That’s generally the point of phantasm venom, I think,”
Ren replied.

Zofi squinted. The only light source flickered, which meant it

must be a lantern or a torch, not natural sunlight. “How long
have we been down here?”

Last time, when the Talons darted her and dragged her to
Kolonya City, this stuff knocked her out for three days solid.

“About a day, as far as I can tell. The guards don’t talk

much, but I’ve got a fast metabolism. I woke up in time for
dinner last night.” Ren’s voice soured.

“Trust me, you didn’t miss much.”

Zofi crawled to the bars and wrapped her hands around

them. The chain on the bed extended just far enough to let
her lean against the cell door. She bent forward as far as
she could to peer around. The hall outside the cells looked
empty. Somewhere in the distance, she caught the low hum
of conversation.

Guards, chatting away. “So the Blood Ceremony…”

“Should be tonight,” Ren agreed. “Probably in a few hours,

since they just brought lunch about an hour ago.”

“No word from Akeylah?”

Ren made a negative sound in the back of her throat.

Zofi rested her forehead against the bars. The cool metal
did little to alleviate the pounding in her head. “That’s it,
then,” she murmured. “Audrina wins.”
“Barring a miracle, I’d say so.” Ren sounded resigned.
Defeated, in a way Zofi had never heard from her sister.

“You know her best,” Zofi said after a while. “How will it
really be with her on the throne?”

Ren laughed without humor. “She murdered her own

parents, then tried to drown me, her only real friend.” She
sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know. She had her moments,
when she seemed kind and caring, but now… How much of
that was just her calculating the best way onto the throne,
and how much was real?”

Zofi stared at the ceiling. Watched a single drip of water

gather and inch its way down her cell wall. “Maybe even
Audrina isn’t sure. I mean, she knew who you were all along.
She knew you were her sister, the daughter her father didn’t
despise. Even if you were her friend, even if she cared for
you, I’m sure those emotions all tangled up together.”

“Hatred is not the opposite of love,” Ren whispered, and

sounded as though she were quoting someone.

“That would probably be apathy,” Zofi said. “Hating

someone takes so much energy, so much—”

“Care,” Ren finished with a sigh.

Zofi nodded to herself. She watched another drip inch down

the wall.

She wondered where Akeylah was. How the Blood Ceremony

would go.

How long it would be before Audrina returned, this time with

a crown on her head, to have Ren and Zofi executed.
She prayed for a quick death.

She had a feeling they wouldn’t be so lucky.

“Zofi?” Ren’s voice sounded closer now, as though she’d

crawled to the nearest part of her cage. “When Aud tried to
curse me, through the shield tithe…

What happened? I thought I felt you fighting her, but I don’t

understand how.”

Zofi closed her eyes. She remembered leaping into

Audrina’s room, seeing the curse on Ren’s hands. She’d
reacted on instinct. Slapped a boost to tithe.

Except instead of performing a normal tithe, she’d pushed

her mind outside her own body.

“I don’t know how I did it exactly. I just remember I saw…”

She searched for a way to describe it. “You know how
normally in a tithe you see your own veins? I saw mine, but I
saw yours, too, beside me, and Akeylah beside you…

even Audrina, I think, this big black cloud.” Zofi shook

herself. “I threw a shield around you, the same way I
would’ve done to myself. I didn’t even know if it would work,
but it seemed like the only way to help.”

“Did it…” Ren cleared her throat. “Did it leave a mark?”

Zofi blinked. She hadn’t even thought to check. She tugged

her breeches down far enough to squint at her thigh, where
she’d cracked the boost. Sure enough, a pale blue glow
shone in a jagged X where the glass had broken her skin.
“Yes.” Zofi’s voice shook.
She’d worked the Vulgar Arts. Just like her mother the
curseworker.

It stunned her, how easy it had been. Instinctive. So similar

to a normal tithe, to one she’d work on herself. It raised all
over again the questions she’d had while reading her
mother’s journal. Should there be some exceptions? Should
Vulgar Arts that worked in someone else’s favor, to help or
save them, really be called curses?

“Thank you,” Ren whispered. Zofi could see Ren’s hands

wrapped around the bars of the neighboring cell, if she tilted
forward far enough.

Zofi slid over to join her. “You’d have done the same for
me.”

That’s what got her thinking.

Shield tithes guarded the tither from being attacked, but

also made it impossible for them to use any other tithes or
curses for a whole day. It was like a dam, blocking a person
from the Arts.

If Zofi could shield another person as easily as she could

shield herself, she

could also use the shield for more than just protection…

“Ren.” Her voice went sharp, urgent. “If all three of us

shielded Audrina at once, I think we might be able to bind
her, stop her from being able to curse anyone. At least for a
day.”

Ren fell silent, thinking. “Maybe,” she replied at last. “But

what good would it do?”
“Akeylah said the heir was threatening Rozalind. It’s why
Akeylah agreed to hold the Blood Ceremony in the first
place. I’d bet anything Audrina is threatening us, too, now.
But if we could bind Audrina, she’d have no bargaining
power.”

“Aud was strong enough to break through my shield tithe.”

Ren tapped a fingernail on the metal bar. “And you said
yourself the way her parents conceived her, the tithe they
did, makes her stronger than anyone when it comes to the
Arts.”

“Stronger than you and me and Akeylah combined?” Zofi

watched the condensation along the ceiling. Three droplets
intersected, joined together in a wide trickle down the wall.

“Even if we could bind her, which would require us somehow

getting out of this dungeon, finding bloodletters, and getting
Akeylah on board… What then?

We tell the whole court that Akeylah called a Blood

Ceremony to recognize the child of Andros and Yasmin’s
incestuous relationship?”

Zofi shrugged, her shoulder digging into the cold iron bar.
“It’s what Audrina wants. Recognition for exactly who and
what she is. So we bind her, prevent her from harming us,
then give her what she wants. We tell the whole court
exactly what she’s done. Our secrets are already out there,
yours and mine. She can’t hold them over us anymore. And
her body is covered in Vulgar Arts scars.”

“But she camouflaged them, didn’t you see?” Then Ren

hummed a little, seeing her own mistake. “Ah. She wouldn’t
be able to do that either, if she was shielded…”
Zofi nodded. “All we need to do is convince the court to
arrest her. Even if they imprison you and me, too, at least
Audrina won’t win the throne. It’d fall to Akeylah.”

Ren’s fingernails tapped against her bars again, faster now.

“We’d still have to get out of the dungeons somehow. Not to
mention steal a moment alone with Akeylah to fill her in.
And find some way all of us can tithe and shield Audrina at
once. Besides, even if we managed all that, Audrina has
convincing enough proof of what I did. I’m sure she has
something up her sleeve for you, too, to

ensure you can’t walk away from this.”

Zofi studied the cell. This was the best future she could
hope for. This, or a hangman’s noose. But at least if she
went down for Nicolen’s murder now, there’d be a reason.
She’d leave the world behind her a better place.

“It would be worth it,” she murmured. “Even if we’re both

executed, we’d put the Reaches in the hands of someone
who will better them, someone we trust.”

Because she couldn’t only think about her own fate. She had
to think about her family, too. Her band, all the Travelers.
Everyone in the outer Reaches who had suffered under the
Kolonya-first rule of the past several centuries.

Somewhere in the dark, Ren cleared her throat. “I agree.

Though this is all a moot point. We’re trapped down here.
The guards aren’t exactly going to run messages for us
prisoners.”

“Maybe.” Zofi craned her neck to peer up the corridor

toward where the guards were stationed. She knew it was
too much to hope that Vidal or one of his friends might be
stationed down here. But she’d spent enough time in Vidal’s
company to understand how Talons worked. By the rule
book, as much as possible.

Ren was right. The Talons wouldn’t exactly deliver mail for
prisoners. But they would tell the queen if an inmate said
something important. And there was one thing royals
usually wanted to hear from people they’d arrested.

Zofi took a deep breath. “Guards!”

In the distance, the faint sounds of chatter stopped.

“This is Lady D’Andros Zofi speaking,” she shouted.

One of the guards grumbled and stomped up the corridor.

“Quit the bloody racket,” he growled.

Clanking, Zofi rose to her feet, the irons still clapped around
her wrists. She lifted them to bang on the cell door. “My
sister and I have discussed the situation,” Zofi said, trying
her best to channel her inner Ren. The prim and proper
sister. “Please notify Her Highness Lady Akeylah that Lady
Florencia and I are ready to confess.”

29

Akeylah

This isn’t going to work.

“How do I look?”
Akeylah nearly started out of her skin when Audrina
appeared at her side, to take a turn in her shining gold
gown. The dress was long-sleeved and floor-length by
necessity. Gold, the color of the Sun Throne. Gold, to
position herself in opposition to Nicolen, the Silver Prince,
the last acknowledged heir.

“Perfect,” Akeylah told her. It was the truth, after all.

Akeylah had to admit, Audrina understood this political
game better than her. Better even than Ren, who lived and
breathed Kolonyan traditions.

Audrina had planned today’s event meticulously, from her

clothes down to the arrangement of the seating, placing the
courtiers who’d protested Akeylah’s, Ren’s, and Zofi’s initial
acknowledgments nearest to the dais. Audrina anticipated
the most support from them, since they’d already expressed
dislike for the other available options.

She’d even invented a fake mother for herself, a

noblewoman who’d passed away a few years ago, who
Audrina had apparently researched obsessively.

Akeylah heard her gushing about “dearest mummy” to the

tailors’ assistants that morning, as they prepared for the
ceremony.

She waxed so poetic about her imaginary mother and the

tragic way she’d died that halfway through the story, even
Akeylah was tempted to believe it.

But Audrina’s darker side also showed. She shrieked and

threw one tailor from the Keep after he accidentally pricked
her during her fitting, ignoring his desperate pleas about
how long he’d worked there. After that, the other attendants
pinned and sewed in nervous silence, while Audrina rattled
off lists of
nobles to Akeylah—which ones she bore grudges against,
and how she planned to make their families repay those
grudges.

“You don’t think it harsh, to begin your new reign doling out
punishments?”

Akeylah had asked quietly, while Audrina turned this way

and that, admiring her gown.

“Oh, I’ll show mercy eventually.” Audrina had smiled at

herself in the mirror.

“Once I’m sure they’ve fallen in line.”

Akeylah had done just that. Fallen in line, ordered the Great
Hall staff to follow Audrina’s whims, paid the tailors for
Audrina’s gown. Even went so far as to visit the University
herself to requisition the acolytes and the ceremonial
equipment they’d need.

But the more time she spent with Audrina, the stronger her
fears grew. This girl would prove a terror if she took the
throne. Audrina would sacrifice anyone, even Kolonya itself,
in service of her own desires.

“Just about ready now.” Audrina peered through a slim

opening in the doorway, a little offshoot fitting room of the
Great Hall. The same room where Andros had died just a few
days ago. Akeylah couldn’t stop glancing at the far corner
where he’d fallen.

To distract herself, Akeylah stole a glimpse over Audrina’s

shoulder at the Great Hall. It had been completely
rearranged. In place of the usual dining room setup, the
servants had lined up rows of chairs facing front, so it
almost resembled a wedding hall, with a processional aisle
in the center. That was the aisle Audrina would walk down,
once Akeylah summoned her.

It was a different style than the last Blood Ceremony

Akeylah had seen, in the sky gardens where she and her
sisters had been confirmed as Andros’s daughters. But then,
Audrina seemed to take pleasure in the difference.

“I’m doing this my way,” she’d said whenever anybody

questioned the changes. “A new ceremony for a new
queen.”

Now, servers escorted nobles to their assigned seats. Up on

the dais, a bevy of acolytes arranged the stage. The deep
silver bowl that Akeylah, Zofi, Ren, and their father had bled
into at their own Blood Ceremony stood front and center, on
a raised pedestal. The symbols carved around its edges
flashed in the bright lamplight of the hall, and the acolytes
who flanked it matched Audrina in their gold ceremonial
robes.

Behind the bowl stood the throne. At its right hand, on a

cushion, rested Father’s crown. Even from here, all the way
at the back of the Great Hall, Akeylah caught the glint of the
talons that curved down either side of it,

wickedly sharp.

Usually a Blood Ceremony would be performed separately

from a coronation. One was meant to acknowledge the
lineage of a future heir, the other meant to crown said heir.
Today, however, Audrina had elected to combine the events.

“This will be a celebration fit for a queen,” Akeylah

murmured now, eyes downcast.
Audrina’s expression sobered. “You’d better be able to keep
your sisters in line, the way you claim.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Akeylah answered without

missing a beat.

About an hour ago, a Talon had visited from the dungeons to

inform Akeylah that her sisters wanted to confess. Audrina
had tried to dismiss him, but Akeylah understood what the
message really meant.

Ren and Zofi needed to talk.

She’d managed to sneak away when she returned to her

own chambers to dress. She’d stolen into the dungeons with
only a few minutes to spare, and the moment Zofi explained
her plan, Akeylah had formulated one of her own.

A way for all three of them to bind Audrina at once.

A way to ensure Audrina took responsibility for her crimes.

Crimes that could only have been committed by a member
of the royal family. Half the menders in the Keep had seen
Father cursed, after all. There was only one way to be
certain they all recognized the true culprit now.

So Akeylah had returned to Audrina’s side, freshly dressed,

and in her meekest voice yet, had made a suggestion. “I’ve
been thinking,” she’d said, face averted, head bowed, in the
manner she’d learned Audrina preferred. “If only you and I
perform the Blood Ceremony, won’t it just prove we are
related?”

Audrina had stared. “Of course, puppet. That’s the whole

point.”
“But, I mean, who’s to say you couldn’t be a relation on my
mother’s side, like my brother Siraaj or my sister Polla?”

Audrina had hesitated.

“It’s just, I thought about my sisters’ request to confess,”

Akeylah had pressed on. “Perhaps this might be a way to
accomplish two things at once. Hear their testimony before
court, and prove your relation to our father. If all three of us
perform the Blood Ceremony with you, there can be no
doubt as to your parentage.”

“It would speed things up,” Audrina had finally admitted,

after a long pause.

“If they confess to their crimes, we can proceed with their

banishments straight

away.” She’d looked at Akeylah then, gaze sharp. “But if this

is some sort of trick on their part…”

“I can ensure they’ll do as they’re told,” Akeylah had

answered, head still bowed. “I told you what I want, Your
Highness. Myself and my sisters free of all this. Alive.”

“Then see to it they obey me, and we’ll all get what we
deserve today.”

I hope so, Akeylah thought now. Her gaze swept the crowd
at the side of the dais. There. In a far corner, she watched a
bevy of Talons lead Zofi and Ren into the room, still in
chains. Murmurs swept through the gathered courtiers.

This would be tricky. They’d need to time their tithes

perfectly with the proofs they offered in the Blood
Ceremony. Only after Audrina’s relationship was proven
before the court, yet before Audrina took the throne, could
they speak.

Speak, and pray the court believed them over her. Three
liars against one.

Akeylah drew a deep breath. “Ready?”

“I’ve been ready for this my entire life.” Audrina stepped

aside so Akeylah could enter first. “See you on the other
side, puppet.” Audrina flashed one last wink. “And don’t
forget that ambassadorship waiting for you.” Her expression
sobered. “Or the reunion with our dear father if you screw
this up.”

Akeylah suppressed a shudder. But, “I look forward to

putting this unpleasantness behind us, Your Highness,” was
all she said, voice smooth as silk. Dimly, Akeylah wondered
when she’d gotten so adept at lying.

Rozalind was right. Time in this Keep changed a person.

Then she swept up the Great Hall toward the dais.

Heads turned. Every noble in the room looked her direction.

Even Rozalind, who Audrina had insisted on moving up from
the nursing wing, was in attendance. She sat in a wheeled
chair, similar to the one Akeylah’s father had used toward
the end, but she looked healthy enough otherwise, her skin
returning to its usual dark, Sun-blessed glow.

Her eyes tracked Akeylah all the way up to the dais, bright
with concern.

Akeylah flashed her the tiniest, quickest smile she dared.

For the occasion, Akeylah wore dark green, accented with
emerald. The color of mourning, ostensibly because of her
father’s recent death. In Akeylah’s heart, however, she wore
this color for a myriad of reasons. To mourn her sisters’ lost
reputations. Her own ruined innocence, as she collaborated
with this megalomaniac.

She wore it as a cry for all of Kolonya if they failed today. If

Audrina won.

When she reached the dais and climbed the steps to stand
beside the acolytes, a hush fell. Akeylah surveyed the
courtiers with a pang deep in her heart. She counted more
than a few whose lives Audrina already planned to make a
living nightmare. Who could say how many more the girl
would take a disliking to, or how cruel her punishments
might become?

Akeylah wet her parched lips. Mother Ocean, guide our path
today. Then she spread her arms wide in greeting.

“Nobles, lords, and ladies, I thank you all for gathering here
today.” She forced a smile. “I am sure you all have
questions.” A nervous chuckle passed through the crowd. “I
can only imagine your confusion when you received your
invitations to this event. After all, my father, Sun guide his
soul, only just held a Blood Ceremony, to recognize my
sisters and me.”

She cleared her throat. “But my father neglected to invite

one person to the last ceremony. A person who rightfully
should have been included. My lost sister, now found and
ready to be recognized at last.”

Murmurs started up. Heads turned as nobles asked one

another if they had any idea who she meant.
“Lady D’Andros Audrina, please join us.” Akeylah watched
every head in the room swivel as Audrina strode through the
double doors at the far end of the Great Hall. The whispers
grew louder, especially among the ladies. Akeylah guessed
at least some of them must recognize the girl who, until
recently, served them. The same way Ren once had.

Audrina looked nothing like a servant now.

She moved with a sedate, calm grace Akeylah envied. Head

high, shoulders back, dressed in her skin-hugging golden
gown, she looked every inch a queen.

She peered down her nose at every row of people she

passed, and the faintest hint of a sneer touched her lips
when she locked eyes with some of those noblewomen in
particular.

Finally, she reached the stage and ascended to take her

place beside Akeylah.

Akeylah cleared her throat. “I have brought my other sisters

Lady Florencia and Lady Zofi here as well, in order to
properly confirm our fourth sister’s heritage. Captain Lindle,
please bring them to the stage.”

Unlike Audrina’s graceful processional, Zofi and Ren shuffled

up the steps, manacled at the wrists and feet. Their clothing
was rumpled and stained from their night in the dungeon,
and they both had deep bags below their bloodshot eyes.

Audrina’s tiny smirk widened when Ren tripped on the

topmost stair. Zofi

caught her just before she fell. Akeylah clenched her fists at
her side to stop herself from reaching out, too.
She needed to play her part. Had to remain Audrina’s
faithful puppet until the last possible instant.

Audrina followed her gaze and leaned close to Akeylah.

“Remember our bargain,” she murmured. At the same time,
she tilted her wrist to show Akeylah the slim blade fitted
along the underside of her sleeve. A bloodletter sewn into
the very fabric, poised so she could dig it into her forearm at
any moment. “One wrong move and none of you leave this
hall alive.”

Akeylah plastered on a broad smile for the onlookers. “Of

course, Your Highness.”

Then the acolytes took over. “Lady D’Andros Zofi,” the lead
acolyte said.

“Step forward and make your proof.”

The words stirred Akeylah’s memory. Reminded her of the

first time they’d all done this, when Father was still alive.
When he set all this chaos into motion.

Part of her wished she could go back to that time. Back

before she knew the dark secrets her family was keeping,
even—or perhaps especially—Father. If she could, Akeylah
would tell her past self to flee while she still had the chance.

Zofi shuffled forward, chains clanking. An acolyte passed

her a bloodletter, and Zofi added a prick of her blood to the
bowl. At the same time, Akeylah noticed her sister’s brow
crease, her eyes go sharp with concentration. After a few
seconds, she shuffled backward, fell into line once more,
with only the barest hint of a glance at Akeylah.

Yet Akeylah caught the trace of a smile curling one edge of

Zofi’s mouth.
“Lady D’Andros Florencia, make your proof,” the acolyte
continued.

Ren mimicked Zofi, stepping forward and tithing into the

bowl. Her blood hit the basin and the whole bowl lit up
bright silver and hummed faintly. Just like Zofi, Ren’s gaze
went hard and focused, but not on the Great Hall. On
something else, something internal.

It happened fast enough that Akeylah hoped Audrina didn’t

catch it. The bowl still ringing faintly, Ren stepped back into
line with a nod at Akeylah.

“Lady D’Andros Akeylah,” the acolyte said. “Make your

proof.”

Akeylah approached. She drew back her sleeve, and an

acolyte handed her a fresh bloodletter, silver-handled and
gold-plated. Made especially for ceremonial occasions.

She tithed. A single drop of blood fell into the bowl, traced
down the silver basin. As it glowed and hummed, louder this
time, Akeylah forced her mind

away from the Great Hall, into the tithe instead.

She was getting used to working the Vulgar Arts. In a split

second, she saw her sisters’ outlines beside her. Zofi, Ren,
and Audrina, the latter a black thunderstorm on the horizon,
although she sensed layers around Audrina’s power this
time.

Her sisters’ shields, already in place.

Akeylah harnessed the Arts in her system and cast them out
over Audrina. It felt the same as shielding herself, a tithe
she had plenty of practice with this week. She gathered the
Arts like a warm woolen blanket and wrapped them around
Audrina instead of herself.

It took more concentration to shield another person. But a

few beats, and Akeylah had secured the shield around
Audrina’s form, knotted it tight.

Akeylah stepped back into line. Time for the finale.

“Lady D’Andros Audrina.” The acolyte extended a hand

toward her. “Prove your relation, before all the Reaches.”

“Gladly.” Audrina accepted the final bloodletter. She tithed

across the back of her hand, too wary of her scars to roll
back her sleeves, Akeylah realized.

The bowl glowed and sang, louder than ever, and the
whispers that had circulated the hall since Audrina’s
entrance burst into full-blown shouts of surprise.

“Before we continue with this ceremony,” Akeylah spoke

again, raising her voice over the hubbub, “many of you are
aware that the past few weeks have been a trying time for
our family. My father would like his throne to pass to his
rightful heir, the heir best suited to leadership. To that end,
we have some confessions to hear, from those who are not
worthy of the title.”

Audrina grinned at Ren in particular, triumphant.

Ren stared back, impassive. She always did have the best
hunting face.

Akeylah did her best to remain sober, too. She didn’t enjoy
this task. But it needed to be done. “The first event I’d like
to address,” she said, “is my father’s murder at the hands of
Lady Audrina.”
A beat passed in dead silence.

Then the hall erupted. Nobles leaped to their feet. Captain

Lindle dropped the chain attached to Ren’s and Zofi’s
manacles and stared at Akeylah in almost comical
confusion.

Audrina, on the other hand, reached for her wrist with a

scowl. “Traitorous bitch,” she snarled. Her bloodletter
sprang into her fist. “She’s the one who cursed him,”
Audrina howled, though the shouts in the hall nearly
drowned out

her voice. “Akeylah killed Andros. She’s the murderer.”

“Arrest her,” Akeylah told Captain Lindle calmly.

He started forward.

Audrina leaped backward out of his reach. “Florencia caused

Burnt Bay. Zofi murdered Prince Nicolen. These girls are
murderers and traitors, all of them!”

“Lady Audrina, please.” The captain stalked after her.

Cornered her on the far end of the stage. “Don’t make this
any more difficult than it needs to be.”

Most of the Great Hall stood now, craned their necks and
stepped out into the aisles for the best view of what was
happening on the dais.

“You’ll pay for this,” Audrina growled in Akeylah’s direction.

Quick as a flash, she sliced her arm through the fabric of her
gown.

Akeylah held her breath.

Her hands tingled. She looked down and her heart skipped
in fear—tiny curls of black had started under her fingernails.
As she watched the tendrils inched up her fingertips.

But then the black retreated. Her fingers went gray, then
returned to their normal golden brown. She glanced up and
saw Audrina’s eyes widen with fury.

We did it, Akeylah thought. We bound her.

Captain Lindle grabbed Aud’s arm. Other Talons had

stormed the platform, and a pair caught Ren and Zofi each.
Audrina glared death in Akeylah’s direction, practically
spitting. “Akeylah is the one you need to arrest,” she
shouted. “She killed our father, not me.”

“It’s over, Audrina,” Akeylah said, voice pitched soft enough

that only those on the dais could hear. “You can’t hurt
anybody now. Please, let’s end this without any more
bloodshed.”

She held Audrina’s eye until the other girl broke. Akeylah
watched her take stock. Look from Akeylah to Zofi and
finally settle on Ren, gaze still narrowed.

Suddenly, without warning, Audrina tore an arm from the

Talons’ grip. She reached down to drive a fist into her own
leg. Akeylah didn’t understand, not until Zofi shouted and
she noticed a red stain begin to pool through Audrina’s
gown.…
30

Florencia

Everything was going according to plan. Their shield worked

—Audrina couldn’t beat all three of them combined.

But then Audrina did something else, hit her leg the way
Ren had seen Zofi do, down in Audrina’s chambers. Blood
pooled along Aud’s skirts, and everything changed.

Ren’s stomach sank as Audrina lurched from the captain’s

arms. The bloody stain on her gown spread. So much blood,
more than a simple tithe should produce. And Audrina didn’t
look right either. Her back arched, and her eyes went glassy,
unfocused. Ren didn’t understand—Aud didn’t have a knife
in her hand, so how…?

Zofi cursed loudly.

“What is it?” Ren asked her. “What did she just do?”

“It’s… a Traveler thing,” Zofi muttered. “Boosts. They let

you store the Arts for later use. But Mother always told me
boosting with a shield tithe was dangerous—whatever tithe
you try to work will hit the shield and rebound.…”

Audrina moaned. That’s when Ren saw it. The black

spreading along her fingertips. Up over the backs of her
hands.

“What about a curse?” Akeylah appeared at their elbows,

voice tight.

“Even worse,” Zofi murmured.

Ren’s chest ached.

Audrina was a monster. A terror. She’d cursed Ren and her
sisters, killed their father, their aunt.

But Audrina had also lived the kind of life Ren couldn’t even
imagine. She’d grown up with the horror of her parents’
voices in her head, every day hearing

how they disapproved, judged her, despised her.

She was a monster, but what else could she have been,
raised like that?

Trained from too young an age in statecraft, in war, in the

price of running a kingdom and the terrible decisions it
required.

Ren couldn’t help but remember the other Audrina. Her

friend. The girl who stayed up late to console her the first
time Danton left. Who helped her darn extra socks to avoid
Sarella’s wrath. Who snuck out of the maids’ chambers with
Ren to dance in the fields behind the Keep in the light of the
triple moons, stolen bottles of strongwine tucked under their
arms as they howled at the sky.

The moons favor girls like us. Girls who didn’t follow the
rules. Girls who wanted more than the servants’ lives they’d
been forced into.

Ren had so much in common with Aud. More than she ever
knew.

Unable to help herself, Ren strained forward. Tried to wrench

free from the Talon holding her. “Let me help her,” Ren
begged. “Please. She’s dying.”

The Talon glanced around the stage, finally settling on

Akeylah, who nodded.
Then he seemed to give up trying to figure out who he
should and shouldn’t be restraining. He released Ren, who
dropped to her knees beside Audrina, chains and all.

Somewhere in the background, she heard Akeylah loudly

order the crowding nobles to make way for the menders.

“Aud.” Ren fumbled for her friend’s hands. Audrina’s fingers

were fully blackened now, curled like claws. “Aud, hang in
there, please.” She glanced over her shoulder at Zofi. “What
can we do? Can she tithe, heal herself?”

Zofi caught Ren’s eye. Shook her head. “The only thing…”
Zofi hesitated.

Looked at the Talon gripping her arm.

With a sigh, he let her go as well, and Zofi knelt beside Ren.

“She might be able to heal herself if she has another boost

on her. I don’t know that it would work; even a positive
boost is dangerous to use with a shield tithe, but…” Zofi
explained what to look for. A round glass phial somewhere
on Audrina’s body.

Ren reached for Aud’s waist. Felt through the fabric of her
dress, up to her rib cage.

Audrina’s eyes fluttered. Focused on Ren, even as black

tendrils clawed their way up her throat. “Ren?” she
whispered, and in that single, quivering word, Ren heard her
friend. The girl beneath the villain’s mask.

Ren raised Audrina’s hand to her chest, and bent down into
Aud’s view. In her peripheral vision, she saw Zofi continue to
search up and down Aud’s legs,
failing to find whatever it was she needed.

“I’m right here,” Ren murmured. She ignored the burn in the
back of her eyes.

“They never… wanted me.” Audrina’s gaze flickered to the

ceiling, back to Ren. The black webs of her own curse had
reached her jaw, and unfurled across her cheeks. Darkened
her lips like a strongwine stain.

Ren swallowed around a knot in her throat. She knew who

Aud meant. The parents she’d spent her whole life trying so
desperately to please.

“You don’t need them.” Ren dropped her voice to a whisper

and clenched Audrina’s hand so hard she worried it might
hurt. If Aud could feel anything in her blackened fingers,
that was. “You’ve got a friend who loves you like family.

Who is family. You’re my sister, Aud.”

A ghost of a smile touched Audrina’s blackened lips.

“Sister,” she breathed, eyes locked on Ren’s. “I wish… we
could’ve been.” Then the curse’s web reached the whites of
her eyes, swallowed them, and any light left in her faded.

Her hand went limp in Ren’s.

“Audrina.” She shook her arm. Touched her cheek.

“Audrina.”

She forced herself to remember the girl her friend had been.
A girl full of secrets, more than Ren could have guessed. But
also a girl who’d danced with her under the moons, who’d
let Ren cry on her shoulder a hundred times.

For all Audrina had done to her, Ren realized she’d still been
holding out hope. Hope that her friend was in there, deep
down. Hope they could mend this, fix the mistakes their
parents had made, somehow.

Menders thundered onto the dais. Late. Too late.

Ren fell backward, into someone else. Zofi, she realized,

crouched at her left.

Then Akeylah knelt on her right, and they both caught her
hands. Ren shut her eyes. Clung to the sisters she had left.

“How bad is it out there?” Zofi craned her neck to peer

through the doors toward the Great Hall.

Akeylah looked as though she’d just been to war and back.

Then again, Ren supposed, they all had. She roused herself
from her stupor enough to focus on Akeylah’s report.

After the menders carried Audrina’s body from the hall, the
Talons had tried to reclaim some semblance of order. They’d
gathered Ren’s and Zofi’s chains

once more, marched them to a back room that Captain

Lindle deemed securable, which apparently meant they
could post enough guards on every entrance to block any
escape routes.

“I called an emergency council meeting,” Akeylah said. “The

council of lords and the regional council will both be in
attendance. Convenes in fifteen minutes, which should be
enough time to…” She nodded at Ren.
Ren looked down at her skirts. It was a mark of her mental
state that she only just now realized they were stained in
Audrina’s blood. “I still don’t understand what that was,”
Ren said to Zofi as she touched the stains. “The boost, or
whatever you called it.”

Zofi glanced at her, away. “It’s not my secret to share. But…

do you remember the thing Danton found that serving boy
trying to plant in your room?”

Ren thought back to the time when Danton caught an

errand boy hiding an object in Ren’s shoes. A mysterious
round glass ornament with dark red liquid inside. “How did
Audrina know how to make something like that, though, if
it’s such a secret Traveler device?”

Zofi shrugged. “Same way she knew anything the three of

us tried to keep secret, I’m guessing.” Her sister’s mouth
twisted into a grimace. “But Audrina’s knowledge wasn’t
perfect. The boost she sent that boy to use against you, for
example, would never have worked. You can only make
boosts for yourself, not another person. And if she’d grown
up a Traveler, she would have known better than to do what
she did today. Mother’s warned me about shield tithes ever
since I was a child. If you’re shielded and you use a boost,
even for something positive like to heal yourself, the Arts
can’t get out of your system. They rebound on you.

Curses are even more dangerous, obviously, but it would’ve

been terrible no matter what tithe she tried.”

Ren shut her eyes. Swallowed hard. “So, what happened to

her…”

“Was what she tried to do to us.” Akeylah grimaced. “Ren,

I’m so sorry. I know she was your friend.”
Ren kept her eyes shut tight. “I just can’t believe I didn’t see
it. All this time…”

A hand came to rest on her shoulder. Akeylah’s. “You

couldn’t have known.”

Ren shook her head. “I knew she despised her parents. I

knew she resented my rise in station—and the way I treated
her. Just like her parents. I used her.”

“You asked her for help,” Akeylah countered. “That’s what

friends do.”

“But if I’d realized sooner…”

“It’s no one’s fault but Audrina’s,” Zofi spoke up, voice hard.
“Don’t you dare shoulder her crimes. She made the decision
to attack us. She could have trusted you, Ren, the way you
did her. She could have explained who she was, could’ve
asked us to help her confront her parents. She had other
options. She ignored them.”

Akeylah’s hand left Ren’s shoulder in a rustle of skirts.

Finally, Ren looked up and found Akeylah eyeing the narrow

window, the only one in the room the Talons had selected
for them. “We need to go soon,”

Akeylah said. “To meet with the council.” She turned her
arm over, and only then did Ren notice.

“Sun above.” Ren lifted her own wrist, too. Studied the faint
glow along the underside, which matched the mark on
Akeylah’s arm, and Zofi’s. It was narrow, thin as a paper cut,
but still obvious in color and shine. “How are we going to
explain this?”
All three sisters had matching Vulgar Arts scars. Marks from
where they’d worked together to shield Audrina.

“Father made an exception for me when I cured him,”

Akeylah murmured.

“We might be able to argue this was one of those cases.

After all, we didn’t hurt her. We were just trying to protect
ourselves.”

“So we should be forgiven for performing Vulgar Arts that

led to a girl accidentally killing herself in front of half the
kingdom?” Ren massaged her scar with a forefinger.

“We could just hide them.” Zofi traced her own scar.

“How long could we conceal something like this?” Ren

protested.

“Audrina managed for years.” Zofi ran her tongue across her
teeth. “So did my mother. So did Yasmin.”

Ren sighed. “Well, then, how do we explain everything else

that just happened?”

“I’ve been thinking about that.” Zofi finally looked up from

her wrist.

“Audrina never revealed your secret, Akeylah. And how

many people know what our father accused me of doing,
really?”

Akeylah tucked a plait behind her ear. “Captain Lindle,

maybe. A few Talons.

Rozalind and us. Why?”

“Not like me.” Ren laughed once, bitter. “The whole court—
Sun above, the whole of the Reaches know what I’ve done.”

“What you’re accused of doing,” Zofi corrected. “If you ask

me, the evidence sounds pretty thin on the ground. Is there
actual proof?”

Ren pursed her mouth. “Some forged notes between me

and a supposed rebel commander. Audrina wrote them
herself.”

“Which should be easy enough to prove, if we can find a

sample of her handwriting anywhere else,” Akeylah broke in,
catching on.

“The maids have to keep weekly logs of their chores.” Ren

ran a hand through her hair. “There would be samples there.
But I still don’t see what you’re getting at, Zofi.”

“Well.” Zofi’s fingertips danced to the hilt of her knife. “The

entire court just watched us confront a secret sister nobody
knew we had, who tried to curse us in front of everyone.
She’s covered in Vulgar Arts scars. And you can prove she
forged your correspondence with the rebellion.”

Ren’s forehead creased. “You want us to blame everything

on her? Even my crimes, or yours?”

“Why not?” Zofi spread her hands. “She’s guilty of most of

it, anyway.”

“It gives us a simple explanation.” Akeylah began to nod.

“One that will play well with the councils.”

The thought didn’t sit right with Ren. “Audrina did terrible
things, but so did I. So did all of us, in one way or another.”
“Speak for yourself,” Zofi muttered. “I’d choose Elex over
Nicolen any day.”

“Still.” Ren glanced toward the doorway. On the far side of

the stonewood, she heard a murmur swell, from the crowd
still gathered out there. Likely watching the servers clean
the dais, wondering if there would be any more action to
this show. “I don’t like pinning it all on her.”

“What would you rather do, confess?” Akeylah asked. “The

court would demand your head, Ren.” Her sister shuffled
closer, until her skirts brushed Ren’s arm. Akeylah knelt so
their gazes were level. “There are better ways to do
penance than offering yourself up as a sacrifice. You can’t
make up for what you did if you’re dead. Alive, you may not
be able to undo your mistake, but you can help put things
right.”

Ren blinked, taken aback. When she glanced to Zofi, she

found her smiling, too.

“Listen to our smartest sister, Ren.” Zofi nudged Akeylah’s

shoulder. “That’s the future queen of the Reaches, after all.”

Akeylah’s face flushed, and she rose to her feet once more.
“We haven’t discussed anything of the sort.”

“You’re already doing the job,” Ren pointed out.

“Only out of necessity. You were both gone, so—”

“So you held the entire kingdom together. Not everyone

could’ve done that.”

Ren stood, too. “All while managing a blackmailer and curing

our father’s curse.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Akeylah protested. “This
whole time, I’ve been faking it. Just trying to get through
one day at a time.”

“Sounds like leadership to me.” Zofi grinned. “Besides, Ren

and I already took a vote, down in the dungeons. You missed
it while you were up here preparing a party for our nemesis,
but we decided you’re the best choice.”

Akeylah narrowed her eyes. “I was up here making a deal

with our enemy to give up the throne in order to keep the
two of you safe. That hardly sounds like the decision a
future queen should make.”

“On the contrary, it sounds exactly like what a queen would

do.” Ren smiled.

“Stall long enough to find a way to defeat your opponent.”

“And above all, protect your people,” Zofi added. “Family

included.”

Akeylah glanced back and forth between them. Finally, she

exhaled, shoulders sagging. “Well, I guess that covers at
least one thing we need to speak to the council about.”

Zofi cast her a sideways glance. “Mm. Well, while we’re

setting topics for this meeting, I have another one to bring
up.…”

31
Zofi

This is an outrage,” Lord Rueno shouted when Zofi, Akeylah,

and Ren entered the solarium. The council of lords and the
regional council had already crammed around the map
table, too many bodies squeezed into the tight space.

Ambassadors Ghoush, Perry, and Kiril looked by turns

infuriated, worried, and annoyed. Danton, on the other
hand, had eyes only for Ren. He nearly collapsed from relief
the second she crossed the threshold, and Zofi had to stifle
a smile.

Whatever else he might’ve done, Danton was loyal to her

sister. Zofi liked him for that.

Rozalind was there, too, still in the wheeled chair, though

she flashed all three girls a reassuring smile when they
entered.

Akeylah turned toward Rueno, poised as ever. “The attacks

upon my family?” she asked. “I quite agree, Lord Rueno, it is
outrageous.”

“What are they doing here?” he spat, gesturing wildly

between Zofi and Ren.

“I presume you have a reason for allowing your sisters, one

of whom was recently under house arrest and the other of
whom was banished by your father, to walk in here free of
restraints?” Ambassador Ghoush added, a little more
politely than her brother.

“I do.” Akeylah swept a look around the crowded room and

strode sedately to her seat next to Rozalind’s chair.
Danton rose while Akeylah sat, and then he offered his own
seat to Ren. A few other lords and ladies peered at one
another, embarrassed they hadn’t remembered to rise for
the king’s daughters.

Zofi ignored them all and perched on the windowsill, one leg
swinging beneath her.

“For the past several weeks, our family has been dealing
with crisis after crisis, beginning with my aunt’s tragic
death,” Akeylah began, the way they’d rehearsed.
“Afterward, my father fell ill, we believed from grief. But
when he died, the truth came out.” Akeylah laid her palms
flat on the table. Half the audience leaned in with her,
breaths held. “My father was not ill—he had been cursed.
Cursed by the same daughter you met today, who tried to
force my sisters and me to take responsibility for her
crimes.”

Zofi noticed Ren flinch, just for a second, before her face
smoothed.

She understood. Ren felt guilty staining her friend’s name

any more than it already had been. But what else could they
do? Akeylah was right—none of them could change the past.
The only way to fix things was to move forward. To work
toward a better future.

“Audrina was a troubled girl.” Ren took up the thread. “She

hated our father for a number of reasons—some
understandable, I must admit.”

Understatement of the year, Zofi thought with a grimace.

“But Audrina reacted with violence, by sabotaging our

family and this country. That we cannot forgive.” Ren locked
eyes with Lord Rueno. “Her plots included those documents
your daughter found, which she planted in a room she
brought Lady Lexana to. Audrina forged the letters. You’ll
find that if you look at Aud’s handwriting in Madam Oruna’s
record books, it matches my supposed rebel
correspondent’s exactly.”

“As I brought up to you privately, Lord Rueno,” Danton

interrupted. “The seal on those messages you found, when
compared to a legitimate rebellion seal the Talons located, is
not an exact match. Rather, a convincing copy.”

Rueno gritted his teeth and shifted his glare to Zofi. “That
still doesn’t explain her return.”

“My father banished Lady Zofi based on more lies Audrina

fed him,”

Akeylah said. That much, at least, was entirely true. “She is

back at court with my knowledge and blessing.”

“Don’t worry.” Zofi grinned at Rueno. “You’ll be seeing

plenty more of me soon.”

Akeylah cleared her throat. “In good time, sister. Right now,
the menders are investigating evidence of Audrina’s
behavior—”

“With all due respect, Your Highness, what could menders

ascertain about her behavior?” Ambassador Ghoush
frowned.

“The menders discovered evidence that Audrina used the

Vulgar Arts,”

Akeylah said. “In the form of several marks on her body.”

A few nobles sucked in sharp breaths.

Unconsciously, Zofi’s fingertips drifted toward the bracelet
she wore on her wrist. A copper cuff, wide enough to
conceal her new scar. It matched the gold cuff on Ren’s arm
and the silver on Akeylah’s. Jewelry Rozalind had scrounged
up earlier for them from her personal collection.

“When you say marks…” Ambassador Ghoush seemed a

little slow on the uptake today.

“We mean Audrina has more scars than a professional

curseworker,” Zofi replied. I should know.

“She used the Vulgar Arts against all three of us,” Ren spoke
up. “As well as against my father and our aunt Yasmin. We
suspected it was her, but now, well…

the scars are proof.”

“But why?” Ambassador Perry leaned forward in his seat.

“Do you have any idea why your sister went to such lengths,
what her aim was?”

“She wanted the throne,” Zofi said.

“We were in her way.” Akeylah pressed her lips into a thin
line.

“And she was angry with our father for not recognizing her,”
Ren added, more softly. “For not offering her the same
opportunity he afforded the rest of us.”

“Why didn’t he acknowledge her when he acknowledged the

rest of you?”

Ambassador Ghoush asked. “Why not recognize all his

bastards at once?”
Akeylah cleared her throat. “I believe he chose not to
because he was ashamed of her origins, ambassador.”

“Who was her mother?” Rueno frowned, catching on

immediately.

The girls traded glances. Finally, Akeylah answered.

“Yasmin.”

The solarium broke out in gasps. Zofi caught more than a

few scowls of disgust, and others gaped in shock.

“To judge by this reception, he wasn’t wrong to hide that

information,” Zofi muttered.

Akeylah cleared her throat, almost loud enough to drown

out Zofi’s words.

“With your permission, lords and ladies, ambassadors, I’d

like to motion to review Audrina’s crimes in more depth at a
later meeting. After we’ve had time to complete a full
investigation. Even my sisters and I may not know the full
extent of her actions.”

A rumble of agreement passed around the table.

“Good.” Akeylah dared a small smile. “Now, in the

meantime, we have several pressing issues on the table
that we need to address.”

“The crop blight, for example,” Ambassador Kiril spoke up.

“Or the succession of the throne,” Ambassador Ghoush

suggested, a single brow lifted. “We assumed we had an
heir, since the king arrested his other two eligible
daughters, but facts appear to have changed.”
“Facts have changed,” Ren said. “But our regard for Father’s
decision has not.”

Rozalind spoke up for the first time. “Before he passed, my

husband indicated that he wished to name Lady Akeylah his
successor. It’s the announcement he planned to make, the
evening he…” She hesitated, winced.

The room fell silent for a moment.

Under the table, Zofi saw Akeylah reach for Rozalind’s hand.

“For what it’s worth,” Ren said, after a pause, “my sisters
and I are all in agreement with Father’s wishes, Sun guide
his soul.”

“Akeylah is the best choice for queen,” Zofi added. “Do any
of you object?”

A few nobles traded stares, but nobody replied. Even Lord

Rueno sat quietly in his chair, though Zofi noted the way his
gaze darted among the sisters. She could practically read
his thought process. Well, Akeylah is the least of three
evils.…

Finally, when no one offered an objection, Akeylah spoke

again, her voice softer. “I am humbled by my family’s and
your belief in me. I will do my best to live up to your
expectations.” Her gaze drifted to Ambassador Kiril.

“Ambassador, you spoke of the crop blight as another

pressing concern.”

Kiril bobbed his head. “When we last met about this issue,
the agricultural guild had developed a cure for the blight.
But two weeks have gone by now, and none of my farms in
the Western Reach have been able to lay their hands on this
so-called cure.”

“Nor have any Eastern farmers,” Danton said. “We were

already low on provisions before this blight; now I fear
famine is imminent.”

“To that end, I’ve several announcements to make.” Akeylah

gestured at Zofi, who rose from the windowsill. “My sister,
Lady Zofi, will be taking up a permanent position on the
regional council.”

Rueno and a few of the other nobles, heretofore silent,

opened their mouths to protest. Ambassador Ghoush beat
them to it. “Seats on the regional council are reserved for
representatives of the outer Reaches, Your Highness.”
Ghoush squinted at Zofi. “Unless you would like to install
her in Countess Yasmin’s old seat.”

Akeylah raised a palm to halt the ambassador. “Actually,

she’ll be joining us

as the official representative of a group who should have

had a seat at this table all along. Lady Zofi?”

A smirk played on Zofi’s lips as she casually leaned on the

back of Akeylah’s chair and surveyed the room. Lords and
ladies, ambassadors and queens. People accustomed to
wielding power. People not accustomed to sharing that
power with the likes of her.

It made Zofi’s smile widen. “Centuries ago, when the

Reaches were first born, six ships with six different captains
settled this land.” In the back of her mind, she thought
about Vidal. About the night she told him this story. You can
still help change people’s minds. Help change the Reaches
—by telling that story.
The Travelers’ story. Or at least one of them.

Elex was right. She didn’t need to do what others told her.
And Vidal was right, too—she didn’t need a crown to make a
difference. She would make her own title.

Build a better world, queen or not.

“Back then, my people, the inhabitants of the sixth ship,

were the lifeblood of the other five Reaches. We carried
knowledge throughout this land. We connected you all, until
your ancestors grew frightened of our knowledge. They
distrusted us simply because we claimed no land for our
own. They called us drifters, assumed we had no homes or
loyalty.”

She straightened. “But land does not make a home. The

ground you were born onto is not what makes you an
Easterner, Danton, or you a Westerner, Ambassador Kiril.”

Both of their heads bobbed in unison, buoying her spirits. At

least some people understood where she was coming from.

Maybe this wouldn’t be as impossible as it felt.

Akeylah took over once more. “That is why I’ve decided to

reinstate the Travelers as the Sixth Reach, the Traveling
Reach.”

Dead silence fell.

“And as my first act as the ambassador to the Traveling

Reach,” Zofi said, “I offer our aid with this crop blight. I have
sent messages to the leaders of thirteen of the largest
Traveler bands. I’ve received agreements from six already,
but I anticipate all of us will come together in this time of
need.”
“Agreements to do what, exactly?” Lord Rueno interrupted.

“To distribute the cure to the outer Reaches,” Zofi answered.

“The agricultural guild has already produced enough
curative potions to cover half the crop fields in Kolonya. My
riders will take these existing potions to the

outermost Reaches while the guild produces more here in

Kolonya. We expect to bring the cure to all the fields in the
Reaches within the next month.” In reality, Zofi thought they
could do it faster, but this was the conservative estimate
she’d settled on. Just in case.

Still, all around the table, jaws dropped.

“A month.” Ambassador Ghoush fanned herself. “But it takes

most trading caravans three weeks just to journey from the
Northern Reach to Kolonya, never mind all the way down to
the Southern Reach.”

“Traders don’t travel like we do.” Zofi grinned. “Doubt me if

you like, but at least give me a chance to prove you wrong.”
She noticed more than a few others stifle smirks at that.

“I, for one, am eager to work with the Traveling Reach.”

Danton flashed Zofi a wink. “I have a feeling there’s a lot we
could learn from our fellow countrymen.”

Zofi’s chest swelled.

She knew this was only the beginning of what would be a

long, difficult road.

Neither the regional council nor the rest of Kolonya would

like everything she had to say, as the speaker for a group
that hadn’t had a voice of their own for centuries.
She wouldn’t be offering them favors every time they sat
down in this solarium.

But for the first time in a long while, hope stirred in Zofi’s
heart. Hope for change. Hope that her people might reclaim
the power they’d once had.

Hope that despite everything she’d just gone through, she

might achieve her dream after all.

32

Florencia

Ren clutched her sisters’ hands as they gazed down at their

father’s body.

Encased in a clear glass casket, dressed in his formal

wartime uniform, he looked as though he were merely
sleeping. His face seemed years younger than it had in his
final days. The lines and creases had melted away, thanks
to the menders’ exacting care.

Outside, the distant strains of flute music coupled with the

roar of excited voices.

The mourning period had ended. And unlike Yasmin’s rainy,

tearful procession, today they’d planned a parade, in joyful
recognition of everything King Andros had accomplished in
his lifetime.
He’d made mistakes. Just like the daughters who surrounded
him now. Just like the sister who preceded him to the grave.

But his people loved him. And he’d done great things, too, in
between those mistakes. So, conflicted as Ren felt now that
she knew about Audrina’s past, they’d planned him a send-
off fit for a beloved ruler.

“He looks so… calm,” Zofi ventured. “So at home.”

So do you, Ren thought. Then again, they were in the

stables, Zofi’s home away from home. They stood in the
back of a wagon the stablehands had outfitted to bear them
and the coffin. Enormous warhorses flanked them, four
yoked to their carriage and dozens of others lined up
behind, each with a Talon on its back. Somewhere in this
procession rode one Talon in particular who Ren guessed
would be glad to see Zofi once all this had ended.

“I hope he’s in a better place.” Ren studied the faint smile

on Father’s lips.

“I wish I felt that calm.” Akeylah wrung her hands together.

“Ren, Zofi, are

you both certain you don’t want to ride in the covered

carriage with Rozalind?”

The enclosed carriage stood a few paces ahead. Rozalind,

still too weak to stand for very long, rode in that, where
she’d be sheltered from the crowds they were about to ride
into.

“People are going to have to see Zofi and me eventually,”

Ren said. “You’ve announced the lifting of our sentences.
Rumors are already spreading about what you told the
councils with regard to Audrina. People know we didn’t do
what they thought.” Her voice sounded far more confident
than she actually felt.

Deep down, she was terrified. Some Kolonyans might not

believe the stories.

They might still blame Ren for Burnt Bay, for their families’
deaths.

They wouldn’t be wrong.

Akeylah’s mouth twisted into a wry expression. “Sometimes

I wonder if you’re a glutton for punishment. Do you want
people to throw rotten food at you?”

Zofi’s hand drifted to her longknife. “I’d like to see them

try.”

Sometimes Ren wondered, too. But still. She squared her

shoulders. “Like I said, we’ll have to go out in public
eventually. May as well get it over with now.

Besides, I want to say goodbye properly.” She rested her

hand atop Father’s transparent casket, one they’d had
specially crafted in the last week.

Akeylah placed her hand over Ren’s. After a pause, Zofi

added hers, too.

“I’m going to miss you both,” Akeylah said.

“I’ll be back before you even realize I’m gone.” Zofi flashed
a smile. “And Ren isn’t leaving right away, is she?”

Ren hesitated. Her gaze drifted to the stable doors.

Somewhere outside was a certain ambassador she needed
to talk to. Because she had an idea. A way to, like Akeylah
had suggested, begin to atone for what she’d done.

“Next week, if I can,” Ren replied.

Akeylah spun toward her, startled. “So soon?”

“Don’t worry.” Ren waved a hand. “I won’t be away long.

Just, I want to get things in motion as soon as possible.”

“Of course.” Akeylah forced a smile. “As long as you don’t

leave me alone with the court vipers for too long. I can
barely stomach Sarella, let alone handle Rueno without
you.”

Ren laughed. Then the stable doors creaked open.

Somewhere ahead, the first horse in the processional began
to move. A few moments later, their wagon lurched. Ren lost
her balance, but Zofi grabbed her arm, steadied her. On her
other side, Akeylah took her hand. All three girls held on
tight.

“When I die,” Zofi added in a low murmur, “don’t you dare

show me off like this.”

“You mean you don’t want a gold carriage?” Ren’s jaw

dropped in mock surprise.

“What about just one really fine horse that we strap your
body to?” Akeylah smirked.

“Mm, maybe.” Zofi turned to peer over her shoulder at the

blinding silver sand-stepper, which apparently Vidal, her
Talon friend who Ren suspected was more than a friend,
retrieved from an outpost along the merchants’ road. “Only
if it’s that horse, though.”
“What’s his name?” Ren squinted at the enormous creature.

“Used to be D’Nicolen, but I don’t think it suits him.” Zofi’s

mouth twisted in distaste. “Vidal suggested I rename him
Horsey.” Her sisters snorted. “I was thinking maybe
D’Andros… if that’s not strange.”

“I don’t think it’s strange at all.” Akeylah rested a hand on

Zofi’s shoulder.

The carriage burst from the shadows of the stables. The

cheers grew deafening. Ren’s heart beat against her rib
cage.

Here it comes. Kolonya’s hatred.

The bright sunlight forced Ren to squint. Through it, she saw
rows upon rows of people from every walk of life, lining the
streets all the way from the Keep to the distant Necropolis.

Some cheered. Some cried.

Eyes fastened on her. But she didn’t see the anger she
expected, or hear any chants about Burnt Bay or traitors.
Slowly, block by block, as they rolled through the city, her
hands still clasped in Akeylah’s and Zofi’s, she began to
relax.

Most people didn’t even seem to notice the sisters. They

focused on Andros.

She heard songs she recognized, snippets of ballads about

his exploits in younger years. How much he sacrificed to
defend Kolonya against Genal.

How much indeed. If only they knew.

Still, it buoyed her spirits to see how they cared for him. It
made her feel like, despite her own crimes, she might one
day do enough good to tip the scales.

Several blocks from the Necropolis, Ren turned. Behind their

carriage—an ornate golden monstrosity—a second vehicle
trundled along. Unlike the king’s, this one went unremarked.
A simple wooden construction, barely as large as the coffin
it carried.

“I’m glad,” Akeylah whispered, “that we decided to bury her

in the same

place.”

Ren was, too. Audrina never received the recognition or the

position she so longed for in life. At least in death, she
deserved to lie in her rightful place.

With a jerk, the carriage halted outside the Necropolis, a

stone miniature of Kolonya City, made up of tombs. They
rode through its wide gates, as far as the wagons would
allow. Then they disembarked to continue on foot.

The sisters drew a handcart with the king’s coffin between

them. Together they rolled him through the narrow corridors
of the Necropolis, toward the Keep-shaped tomb where his
sister waited.

By Kolonyan tradition, family must carry you to your final

resting place in order for your spirit to reach the Blessed
Sunlands. When they fit his casket underneath Yasmin’s,
Ren said a silent prayer he would find her. Reunite with the
other half of his mind.
Back outside, Ren alone marched back to the carriages. She
had one more burden to bear.

Her best friend. Her worst enemy.

In the end, Audrina was both of those things and neither.

Ren knew that in Aud’s own way, she’d tried to protect the
throne.

Audrina had seen Ren’s and Zofi’s and Akeylah’s sins, and
she’d made the same judgment call Ren did. She thought
Kolonya would be better in her own hands.

Ren couldn’t blame her.

A surge of emotions struck when she accepted the

handcart, laden this time with a smaller coffin. Audrina was
lighter than their father. In her plywood box, she was easy
to lift onto the lowest shelf of the royal tomb.

It was the least Ren could do. Carry her here. Audrina was
her sister, after all

—in some ways, more a sister than either Akeylah or Zofi.

Before Ren had any idea who she was, Audrina had been
there. A confidante, a friend.

She betrayed Ren, eventually. But first, she’d helped her.

Outside, beyond the walls of the Necropolis, the crowds

sang funeral songs.

Blessings to honor the deceased. Ren kissed her fingertips,

laid them atop Audrina’s coffin, and prayed her sister would
find the peace she’d never known in life.
Mama met Ren in the center of the Necropolis. As befitted a
member of the

royal family, albeit the extended one, Mama wore full

mourning greens—a floor-length, wide-skirted gown and a
veil nearly as long as the dress itself. It must have cost a
fortune.

“I figure I’d best get use out of the tailors while they’ll still
serve me,” Mama explained when Ren reached her side.
She kissed Ren’s cheeks, one after the other. “Since my
daughter has decided to surrender the crown that should
rightfully be hers.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Mama. The tailors will still make any

gown you like.”

“Not the kind of gowns I’d be owed if I were the mother of

the queen.”

Mama sighed. “Alas, my daughter prefers the company of

rebel ambassadors to pursuing her mother’s plan.”

“I thought you approved of my fling with an ambassador.”

Ren flashed a wry smile.

“Back when I thought he’d prove a useful ally on your way

toward the throne. Now, after the man has already thrown
aside one fiancée? Sun above, no.”

Danton and Lexana had called off their engagement

officially earlier that week. Lexana had wasted no time
running off with Josen, and her father had wasted just as
little time cutting off her inheritance. But by all accounts,
Lexana was happier than ever, selling what remained of her
possessions to purchase a tavern in town with Josen.
Ren shook her head at her mother, though she kept smiling.
“Was it really that important to you? Me being crowned?” At
the same time, Ren scanned the small group that remained
around the tomb. She picked out Zofi beside Vidal, his hand
resting lightly on the small of her back. Nearby, Akeylah
stood next to Rozalind’s wheeled chair, hand tangled in the
former queen’s.

Rozalind looked far better than she had last week. The ashy
pallor had left her face, and she moved easily. The menders
said she’d be fully recovered within the next week or so. In
time for the coronation.

“Of course. I wanted you to be free. To be able to choose a

life for yourself.

Not like me, chained to noble ladies’ whims.” Mama arched

a brow. “But somehow, you managed to do all that without a
crown, daughter. So I suppose I cannot complain too much.
Except for the fact that you’re leaving home to run far
away.” She reached up to pinch Ren’s cheek.

“Mama, stop.” Ren batted her hand away. “I don’t leave for
another week.

And I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“Not soon enough. Not that I ever see you while you’re in
the Keep, so I

suppose it’s no different.…” Mama was off again, grumbling,

but Ren couldn’t suppress her smile.

Across the courtyard, Danton caught her eye.

She tilted her head, a silent question. One they still knew
how to ask each other across roomfuls of people. Can we
talk?

He nodded.

Ren kissed her mother’s cheek and sidled through the

mourners to reach him.

“Florencia.” He caught her hand, pressed his lips to her

palm. “I am so very sorry for your loss. Your father was a
great king, and a good man.”

She raised a brow. “Despite the fact that you argued with
him constantly?”

“What good is it to have friends if you can’t fight with them

when they do something wrong?” Danton grinned.

She smiled, too. Then it dripped from her mouth. “Listen,

Danton…”

“I’m not going to ask you,” he said. “If that’s what you’re
worried about.”

She blinked, confused. “Ask me what?”

“For anything. I won’t beg for more chances to prove myself.

I won’t bother you anymore. If you don’t want to be with me
romantically, I understand, Florencia. But I hope I can still
remain your friend.”

She couldn’t help it. She laughed. “Actually, that’s not what I
was going to say.” She hesitated. Tilted her head and
considered him, playful. “Though, now that you mention it.”
She caught his eye. Saw there the same fierce desire she
always did, when they stood like this. Alone together, the
only two people in the world.
Only Danton had ever made her feel that way. And for
everything he’d done, she could think of just as many
mistakes she’d made.

“I’m not making any promises.” Ren’s voice softened. He

leaned closer, and she breathed in his sharp pine scent like
a sigh of relief. “But I’m not saying we’re completely off the
table.”

The hope that flared in his eyes made her heart skip.

“However.” She stepped back, just far enough to clear her

head. “I have a proposal for you. Unrelated to us.”

He crossed his arms. “I’m interested.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say yet.”

“No. But I trust you, Florencia. You’ve always been the

smarter one of us.”

“Please write that down. I’d like to quote it against you

later.” She smirked.

Then forced the amusement from her face. “We need to

make things right, Danton. What we caused in Burnt Bay…”

His smile melted as well. “If there were some way to fix it,
seas know I would have by now.”

“We may not be able to turn back time,” she said. “But I’ve
been thinking about what you’d planned to do with your
dowry money from Lexana. About how you wanted to fund
the Eastern Reach, so people there didn’t need to rely on
violence as the only solution.”
He nodded. “But Lexana and I decided we couldn’t marry for
that reason alone. She wanted to be with Josen, and I didn’t
want to live a sham either.”

“Understandable. It just got me thinking. So I spoke to my

sisters, and I got Akeylah’s blessing.”

“To do what, exactly?”

Ren glanced over at Akeylah, still holding Roz’s hand. “She’s

granted a stipend to the Eastern Reach. To rebuild from the
war.”

Danton’s eyebrows rose. “Andros always said we couldn’t

afford that.”

“Yes, well.” Ren watched fondly as Akeylah twined her

fingers through Rozalind’s without thinking. “Given our
current peace with Genal, Akeylah has decided our money
will be best spent on ensuring all the Reaches enjoy the
same quality of life.”

Danton ducked his head close enough that his hair brushed
Ren’s cheek.

“Speaking of our peace with Genal… Do you think we’ll hear

new wedding bells soon?” He, too, watched Akeylah’s and
Rozalind’s body language.

Ren lifted a brow, amused. “Give them a minute to enjoy

themselves first,”

she scolded. “Before we turn their relationship into a

political gambit.”

Danton laughed. “My apologies.”

She squinted in mock disapproval. “But speaking of politics.
Akeylah would like me to accompany you out east to
distribute the money. So we can make sure it goes where
it’s needed most.” In truth, Ren had volunteered. But
Akeylah had seen by her expression just how much Ren
needed to start righting her wrongs, in whatever way she
could.

“A wise move,” Danton said. “Monetary support from the

crown should help quell any latent rebel support. Though I’ll
be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if Akeylah’s coronation
alone quiets the rebellion. She’s one of us, after all. At least
partly.”

“It’s a whole new world,” Ren murmured.

Danton slipped his hand into hers. Tentative at first, until

she squeezed his hand in return. “May we learn from our
history.” Danton bent to kiss her temple.

“So we need never repeat it.”

33

Akeylah

The sky gardens looked like they did the night of the first
Blood Ceremony, way back when Akeylah had first arrived in
Kolonya City.
A platform had been erected in the central courtyard.
Acolytes stood in straight-backed rows across it. Between
them were the holy instruments of Father Sun. The Sun
sword, an immense steel broadsword King Ilian had ridden
into battle with, four centuries ago at the birth of Kolonya.
And the formal throne, which servants had carried up from
the receiving hall where it normally resided.

Akeylah had never seen it in person before. It looked even

more intimidating than in the paintings. Its blinding golden
surface had been sculpted to look like Father Sun himself,
with spurts of flame like the vast tentacles of some sea
monster, and diamonds pocking its surface.

Akeylah could not tear her gaze from it.

Only one item was missing—the crown.

All across the gardens, nobles milled. They exclaimed

whenever the criers announced a new arrival, pointed and
whispered about the new gowns and tuxedos nobles
sported. Everyone had worn their finest to meet their new
queen.

Akeylah remembered the first night she’d stood on this dais,

and she had to bite back a smile. She’d been entirely out of
place, dressed in an outdated gown she stole from her
mother’s dressing trunk.

Now, at least she looked the part.

She, Zofi, and Ren wore the same fabric, gowns

commissioned by Rozalind’s tailor. They were the same
verdant shade of green, a peridot that paid tribute to the
end of their mourning period. The tailor had skillfully
blended mourning
green with accents of gold, for the Sun they were here to
celebrate.

The tailor had also tweaked the style to suit each of their
body types. Zofi’s fit loosely, sleeveless with a short skirt
cut to her knees, to allow her easy motion. Ren’s was cut to
hug her curves from collarbone to ankle, with slits to display
her long legs and high heels—bright gold for the occasion.

As for Akeylah, the tailor had given her sheer sleeves, an

allusion to a more Eastern style of dress, but with a
Kolonyan twist—an asymmetrical skirt and sheer, plunging
back. She loved the way it spoke to both parts of her—
Kolonyan and Eastern alike.

She’d imitated that style for her hair, as well. Done the front
half up in Eastern braids and left the rest loose and wavy
down her back. She’d noticed more than a few ladies
pointing and whispering at her tonight, but for once, she
hadn’t felt self-conscious. This time, she knew they were
murmurs of approval.

Still, when she, Ren, and Zofi stepped up to the center of

the dais, Akeylah’s pulse fluttered. Remember, we all
agreed.

Even after that first regional council meeting, Akeylah

couldn’t shake her doubt. Part of her wished Ren or Zofi
could take her place.

“Either of you would be better at this,” she’d told them

again and again.

“You’re both stronger than I am.”

“It’s not sheer strength Kolonya needs right now,” Zofi had
replied.
“Besides, what makes you think you aren’t strong?” Ren had
asked. “You lasted longer against Audrina than either of us.”

“Because she saw me as the weak link, the one she could
make her puppet.”

“And look how wrong she was.” Zofi had winked.

Still. All those conversations failed to reassure her as she

faced down the weight of this responsibility. Queen of
Kolonya.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard her father’s

words. The best leaders are those who accept the crown as
a burden rather than claim it as a prize.

Akeylah tried to reassure herself with that as she followed

her sisters onto the dais.

“Hello, everybody,” Zofi’s voice boomed across the rooftop.

Everyone quieted at once, like a curtain falling across the
crowd. “Thanks for having me back, Kolonya. This time I
promise to behave.” Laughter sounded.

Surprisingly, given the way Kolonya had initially reacted to

Zofi, the nobility had warmed to her since Andros’s death.
Perhaps it was because they’d seen Audrina, seen what a
truly terrible ruler could look like. Or maybe it had more to

do with the Travelers’ new status as the Sixth Reach and

Zofi’s brand-new title of ambassador.

If you asked Akeylah, however, she’d attribute it to her

sister’s forthright attitude. Zofi was always unapologetically
herself. There was something trustworthy about that. Even if
she despised you, at least you knew where you stood.
“I’m excited to be here tonight,” Zofi was saying, “Because
tonight marks a change. Not just for our family, or for
Kolonya, but for all the Reaches. We have an Easterner
ascending our throne, and the Sixth Reach has been
granted a voice of its own.” A smattering of applause dotted
the crowd, mostly from the ambassadors and visiting nobles
from the north and south.

Akeylah spotted Danton cheering.

Zofi’s offer to help distribute the crop blight cures, a process

she’d already begun with the help of her mother’s well-
connected friends, probably helped her popularity, too. In
fact, Zofi had become something of a trendsetter—Akeylah
spotted more and more young girls in trousers and men’s
shirts dining in the Great Hall.

“I know the past several weeks have been just as trying for
the Reaches as they have been for our family.” Ren took
over now. “My sisters and I thank you for standing by us,
and for being ready to move forward into a new era with a
new leader to guide us.”

At her signal, acolytes stepped up to the dais. One laid a

cushion before the throne. Another picked up the sword and
stood at the ready to present it to Akeylah.

Her stomach knotted around itself, tighter than a sailor’s

rope.

“Princess D’Andros Akeylah.” The lead acolyte took center

stage. “Step forward for the blood oath of royal office.”

Akeylah stepped forward and extended her right arm. Her

left was still wrapped in the silver cuff she’d donned after
their showdown with Audrina, hiding her scar.
She accepted a bloodletter from the acolyte. Like the one
they’d used during the Blood Ceremony, it was ornate.
Golden, and sculpted like a stormwing feather. She held the
blade to her forearm.

The blood oath in this case was a formality. A way to add

weight to the swearing-in of a new monarch. Still, sweat
prickled her brow. She’d never performed this tithe before.

Zofi had reassured her it was a simple process. Tithe, speak

only the truth,

and you would be fine.

Lie, and the oath would burn you alive. No pressure.

But her sisters were right there beside her. Across the
rooftop, she saw all the nobles she’d met over the past
couple of weeks, whose concerns she’d listened to and
handled as best she could. Even the sight of Lord Rueno and
Ambassador Ghoush reassured her. She’d faced their ire in
council meetings and lived.

She could handle this.

Akeylah drew the bloodletter across her arm. The tithe

overwhelmed her, as it always did when the Arts hit her
bloodstream, but only for an instant. Find the truth. She
focused on that command.

When she opened her eyes, a faint steam appeared in the

air around her body.

Every eye on the rooftop fixed on her. The whole kingdom

held its breath.
“D’Andros Akeylah, daughter of King D’Daryn Andros, in
sight of the gods and all those gathered here tonight, make
your oath to this kingdom,” the acolyte said.

She gritted her teeth against the heat in her veins. Took a
slow, steadying breath.

“I, D’Andros Akeylah, do hereby accept this throne, and all

the rights and responsibilities that come with doing so. I
swear to govern to the best of my abilities, to exercise
wisdom, justice, and above all, mercy, in every decision I
make.”

As she spoke, her nerves faded. Her voice grew steadier.

Stronger.

She raised her head high and smiled at everyone in turn,

from the servants up to the highest nobles. “I pledge my life
to each of you. I am your servant, and I will do everything in
my power to create a brighter future for you all.”

The heat of the blood oath made sweat prick her brow, but
it didn’t even bother her now.

“Today, I humbly accept the title of Queen of the Reaches. I

pledge to fairly govern the Central Reach, Kolonya, as well
as the Eastern Reach, my homeland, Tarik.” She noticed a
murmur pass across the rooftop at the name. Tarik was a
forbidden word. Banned ever since the country had been
renamed the Eastern Reach.

This was the first line they’d rewritten, a departure from the
oaths her father, and his father, and every king and queen
before, had spoken.

But she wasn’t finished.

“I promise to protect the Southern Reach, once known as
Ananses. I will guard the Northern Reach, formerly the
country of Harenae; and the Western

Reach, which was founded as Oonkip. So, too, will I nurture

and aid the Sixth Reach, the Traveling Reach.”

Whispers shot through the crowd. Jaws dropped. None of

those country names had been spoken at court in centuries.
Most people wouldn’t even dare whisper them at home.

Now the queen herself spoke them aloud.

The blood oath petered out of her system, and the acolyte
accepted the bloodletter, but Akeylah continued to speak.
“My father believed in the power of the unified Reaches. But
in order to be united, we must stand together as equals.

From this day forward, none of the outer Reaches need deny
or disguise their history. Their names will be spoken as
freely as they once were. And their represenatives will have
stronger voices than ever on my council.”

She didn’t know what she expected. Resistence, perhaps. Or

disdain.

Not applause.

It started with Danton. Then a small contingent of Eastern

nobles began to clap next. Soon it spread to the other
ambassadors, even Ghoush. Akeylah’s eyebrows rose as
Lord Rueno brought his palms together, and other
Northerners cheered.

Then a Southern lady knelt. It swept through the crowd.

Akeylah stood dumbstruck as the entire rooftop took a knee.
Even her sisters, Ren first, then Zofi, the latter with a broad
grin.

“Father Sun has heard your testimony.” The acolyte’s voice

boomed across the rooftop. “In his sight and in the sight of
all the gods, your oath has been accepted. Kneel, for the
mark of your office.”

Akeylah knelt along with the rest.

On the far side of the dais, she spotted the face she’d
longed for all night.

Rozalind climbed the steps carefully, a pillow balanced in

her hands, atop which rested the crown.

After much debate, they’d decided to retire her father’s

crown, with its warlike talons. They’d opted for a new
design, one to represent an era of peace.

Rozalind crossed the stage at a sedate pace, head high,

shoulders back, every inch the regal former queen passing
her title along to the next. But when her back turned to the
audience, she flashed Akeylah a quick wink.

Rozalind’s fingertips brushed her temples, cool as ever, and

she laid the crown on Akeylah’s brow.

The gold felt cold against her forehead. The crown itself was
graceful, slender, with six spires to represent the six
Reaches, and set throughout with
stones the same blue as the waves Akeylah used to watch
from the cliffside where she grew up.

When she opened her eyes once more, everyone on the

rooftop, still kneeling, lifted their hands to the sky, palms up
in an offer of fidelity.

“Rise,” the acolyte said, “Queen Akeylah of the Reaches.”

“Have I mentioned that you look positively delicious

tonight?” Rozalind’s voice was a breath against her cheek,
sending a thrill down her spine.

“Funny,” Akeylah replied, voice light, “because it’s you I’m

looking forward to enjoying later.” Her fingertips traced
Rozalind’s curves, came to rest on her hips. “My queen,”
Akeylah added, soft and sly.

“You’re the queen now.” Rozalind paused in the middle of

their dance—a slow, easy spin, the most Rozalind could
handle at present—and touched the crown Akeylah wore.

“Hmm. Two foreign queens, fraternizing in public.” Akeylah

lifted a brow. “I believe we are many Kolonyans’ worst
nightmare. An end to safe and traditional life as they knew
it.”

“Good.” Rozalind grinned. “It’s about time we shook things

up around here.”

She tucked a finger under Akeylah’s chin. Tilted her face

until they were cheek to cheek, the corners of their lips
brushing. “I’d like to make you one more promise, my
queen.”

Akeylah caught her breath, felt her eyelids flutter closed.

“You’ve fulfilled yours. You protected me.”
“I will never be done protecting you. But going forward, I’m
done keeping things from you.”

Akeylah drew back, just far enough to meet the queen’s

gaze. Rozalind’s dark eyes twinkled in the bright light of the
lanterns dotted around the gardens.

“No more secrets,” Rozalind whispered.

A smile curved across Akeylah’s mouth. “Deal.”

Someone cleared their throat loudly, and both queens

leaped apart, startled.

Zofi stood at their side, smirking. “Sorry to interrupt,

Queenie. Just stopped by to tell you how shocked I am—it
almost seems as though people approved of your speech.”

“Queenie?” Akeylah snorted. “You’re about as creative as

that Talon of yours.” Her expression turned thoughtful. “But,
we did get a better reaction than

I’d dared hope for.”

“Time will tell.” Zofi surveyed the crowd, gaze sharp as ever.
“I’ve already been told how ‘surprisingly cultured’ I am three
times tonight, by nobles who looked shocked a Traveler
could string a basic sentence together. Don’t expect to fix
everything overnight.”

“Good thing we’re in this for the long haul.” Akeylah slipped
her hand into Rozalind’s, who squeezed her palm in
reassurance.

Ren and Danton swept up, having just finished a dance,

arms tangled around each other. “Queen Akeylah.” Danton
swept into a bow.
Akeylah’s face heated. She didn’t know if she’d ever grow
accustomed to that.

Then again, perhaps it would be better if she didn’t. If she

ever got used to it, she might forget where she came from.
A little Eastern nobody, who’d grown up under the thumb of
a cruel stepfather. Now she was the most powerful person in
the Reaches—arguably in the world. It hurt her head to think
it.

It hurt her heart to even consider forgetting the long, hard

road she walked to get here.

“Ambassador. Sister.” Akeylah smiled. Glanced back and

forth between him and Ren. “Are you ready for your
journey?” Ren and Danton planned to leave the next
morning, to ride out to the Eastern Reach and distribute
funds and supplies to villages damaged by the war.

“Ready to start rebuilding Tarik?” Danton’s expression

sobered. “I’ve been waiting for this ever since the Seventh
War ended. Your Majesty, I can’t thank you enough—”

“Please, don’t.” She held up a palm. “Tarik was my home,

too. Besides, as you say, this is long overdue.” She glanced
at her sister.

Ren smiled. “I couldn’t agree more.” She stepped away from

Danton, and Akeylah unwound her arm from Rozalind’s
waist to embrace Ren quickly. “I know you’ll hold down the
fort just fine while I’m gone,” Ren murmured against her
neck.

“I’ll try my best,” Akeylah said.

Ren locked eyes with Rozalind over her shoulder and

laughed. “Is she always this modest?”
Rozalind sighed. “Infuriatingly so, sometimes.”

Zofi slapped both their backs. “Oh, calm down. You’re

related to me; you can’t be that fragile.”

Akeylah snorted. “What about you, sister? Are you itching to

get back on the

road again?” She followed Zofi’s gaze across the rooftop, to

a familiar figure in uniform. While she watched, Vidal caught
Zofi’s eye and beckoned her over. In the distance, another
song started up, a faster-paced tune. “Or are you going to
miss anything back here?” Akeylah added with an innocent
flutter of her eyelashes.

“Hmm.” Zofi scratched her chin in faux deliberation. “Yes

and yes, I’d say.”

With that, she flashed Akeylah a wink and skipped toward

the dance floor, into the arms of her Talon. Danton and Ren
joined them, and Akeylah and Rozalind peeled off to the
side, hands entwined.

“And you?” Rozalind asked, voice soft. “Are you ready for
what comes next?”

Akeylah leaned her head against Rozalind’s shoulder.

Glanced down at their clasped hands, then out at the
dancers spinning through the gardens. “Right now, I feel
ready for anything.”

34
Zofi

Zofi pulled Akeylah into a tight embrace. “I’ll be back as

soon as the cures are delivered.” Her mother’s friends had
begun distributing the crop potions last week, but the more
bands they could recruit to help, the faster this would go.

Zofi planned to deliver one round of potions to her band,

then ride out to some of the more remote areas of the
Western Reach to request assistance from the smaller bands
who’d be dotting that region this time of year.

“Be careful.” Akeylah released her and stepped back to

survey the supplies she’d forced upon Zofi.

More than Zofi needed, if you asked her—a fully stocked

saddlebag, complete with a brand-new tent, hunting
supplies, fishing tackle, and enough food to last her a
month. Not to mention, of course, the crop potions. Phials
upon phials of the stuff, encased in blown glass just like
boosts.

Zofi had taught the agricultural guild how to blow glass to

contain the sensitive liquid, since it preserved the potions
most effectively. She also carried instructions on brewing
the cure, which she’d distribute to every town she passed
on her route. It was a complicated recipe, but there would
be some eager young alchemists here and there, she knew,
who could take a shot at producing more of the stuff.

“With all this, I’d better be careful,” Zofi said. “I’m liable to
get robbed the minute I ride out of the city gate.”

Akeylah groaned. “I wish you’d let me send a Talon with you.

You won’t accept any escort? Even just one?” Her grin
widened a little too much for Zofi’s liking.
“For the last time, I’m doing this alone. Unless you want to
command me

otherwise, sister.” Zofi arched a brow, challenging.

Akeylah backed down, though not without a disapproving

harrumph. “It’s your choice, Ambassador.”

That title would take some getting used to. Zofi reached up
to tie her personal rucksack onto the saddlebag. The only
things in it were the new boosts she’d crafted a few days
ago. Just in case.

“I travel faster alone,” Zofi replied without turning around.

After a beat, Akeylah sighed. “As you prefer. Thank you

again, Zofi. The Reaches owe your people a great debt for
all this.”

“That’s a debt I plan to cash in, next time an issue arises in

the regional council meetings that affects my people.”

“In that case, I can’t wait until your return.” Akeylah

beamed. “I do love watching Ambassador Ghoush turn
purple.…”

“I’ll do my best,” Zofi promised, laughing.

But half an hour later, as she rode across the north gate out
of Kolonya City, she wondered if Akeylah might have had a
point about Zofi needing an escort.

Because behind her came the sound of hooves, the huff of a

horse at full gallop.

Adrenaline spiked in her veins. She grasped her longknife,

drew it, and whipped around just in time to watch Vidal
careen across the bridge over the River Leath.

She circled her horse around and watched him ride.

He did look handsome in the early morning sunlight,

dressed in a simple cotton shirt, halfway open, and plain
trousers. No uniform. His hair was a messy tangle, as
though he’d just flung himself out of bed. Only the clawed
hilt of the sword at his side gave him away.

“This is familiar,” Vidal panted when he reached her. “Me

chasing you down.”

She grinned, remembering the first time he’d stopped her

leaving Kolonya City. “At least I didn’t steal the horse this
time.”

“Zofi, please, let me come with you.”

“Like that?” She glanced at his empty saddle. All he’d

brought was a sword.

“If I need to, yes.”

She sighed. Circled her horse close to his, until their knees
touched. “What does your commander say about you riding
off like this?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll quit the Talons.” He reached for her
hand. Drew her in, both leaning in their saddles until their
faces hovered a breath apart.

“No, you won’t.” Gently, she untangled her hand from his.
Cupped his cheek instead, and rested her forehead against
his. In the back of her mind, she heard
his words, the last time they were on the road together. For
as long as I could remember, I wanted to serve Kolonya.
“Your place is here, Vidal. Being one small piece of
something greater, remember? I won’t let you give that up
for me.”

“I can do both. Serve the Talons and aid your mission. You’re
an ambassador now, you’d be entitled to a Talon escort if
you asked for one.” He slid his hand around the back of her
neck, tilted his head. “I could stay with you.” Their lips
brushed together.

This time, when he kissed her, it was soft. Slow. The fire
didn’t leap through her, but kindled slowly. Built and built
until she’d run her hands through his hair, gripped tight and
parted her mouth to kiss him back, burning inside.

Already she missed this. His touch, his scent, his kisses.
Him.

But when they parted, she forced a smile. “You wouldn’t be

able to truly commit to either me or the Talons if you split
your loyalties like that. I can’t do that to you. You’re the kind
of Talon Kolonya needs, Vidal.” Her smile ached at the
edges, just like her heart. This was harder than she thought
it would be.

“Frankly,” she added, “I know you’ll do a lot more good here

than you would gallivanting through the desert with me.”

Deep down, she knew this was the right decision. Even if it
hurt.
Their horses shifted under them, antsy. Vidal stilled his.
Looked away. She pretended not to notice the pain in his
eyes. “I love you, Zofi,” he told the grass under their feet.
Unable to look at her.

Her throat ached. She made herself grin. “Don’t be so

dramatic.” But her eyes must have given her away, because
when he met them, he smiled, too.

“I guess we both understand loyalty now, hmm?”

She laughed, remembering their first argument in the

streets of Kolonya.

Both of them shouting about who understood loyalty best. “I

guess we do.”

He kissed her, one last time, and it reminded her all over
again what she’d be leaving behind. Fire that sizzled along
her nerves, crying for more. They drew apart, her breath
came short, and every part of her body ached with desire.

“Goodbye, Zofi,” he murmured.

She shook her head. Grinned. “I’ll see you around, Vidal.”

Fiddle music swept through the camp. Zofi collapsed against

a bench, breathless after her eighth dance in a row. Across
the flickering bonfire, she caught sight of

Elex and Ora, lips locked in a kiss. She smiled to herself and
glanced away. No unpleasant sting of jealousy accompanied
the sight. She felt only happiness, for his sake. Elex
deserved that kind of joy after everything he’d been
through.
Opposite the flames from him, Mother was holding court.
She listened to a pair of newer members ask questions
about the crop cures. The band planned to divide in the
morning—Norren and Rull would lead a group to the far
west, Mother would lead another to the towns along the
Western and Central border, and Zofi would take the
remainder into the swamplands south of here, dotted with
tiny secluded towns most Kolonyans didn’t even know
existed.

Zofi wanted to be sure those encampments got the cure,

too, same as any larger settlement.

Tomorrow would begin a long few weeks of travel.

Navigating boggy terrain on oft-outdated maps, since
villages in this region tended to shift with the tidal marshes
they lived on.

Tonight, however, they celebrated. Not only did the band

toast Zofi’s return, albeit a temporary one. They also
reveled in their new status. They were an official Reach now,
with an ambassador of their own. A voice.

It wouldn’t change everything overnight. It would be a long

road to get to the future Zofi imagined, where her people
were treated just like any other citizen in the Reaches. But
this was the start.

“Ambassador.”

She started. Turned to find Norren standing beside the log

she was reclining on. Zofi laughed. “You don’t need to call
me that, Norren.”

“I know.” He grinned. “But I’d like to speak to you in your

official capacity, so I figured I’d use the official title.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Of course. What is it?”

“Well.” He paused. Then he drew a piece of paper from his

back pocket and unfolded it. He’d written a list as long as
her arm, she realized, in cramped handwriting that made
her eyes ache just to squint at it. “I have some suggestions
I’d like to make.”

She snorted. “Just a few?”

He plopped onto the log beside her. “This is the preliminary

list,” he assured her with a wink. “Things you ought to bring
to the attention of this council you’re on.”

Zofi set aside the mug of Heine’s moonshine she’d been

about to start on.

“I’m all ears, Norren.”

As the night progressed, more and more people drifted her

direction.

Eventually, about halfway through Norren’s neverending list

of suggestions, others joined in, shouting changes to his
ideas, adding thoughts of their own.

By the time Zofi looked up to see the fire dying, she realized
she’d accumulated as big an audience as her mother
normally would. This time, though, Mother knelt with the
crowd at Zofi’s feet, a broad smile on her face as she
watched her daughter lead.

That night, well after Essex set, when they finally called it a
night, Mother stopped Zofi on her way to her new tent, the
one Akeylah had given her.

“I’m proud of you,” Mother said.

“For what?” Zofi asked, joking. “I didn’t play my cards right;
I didn’t win the throne.”

“No,” Mother admitted. “You didn’t win. You did something

better.” She squeezed Zofi’s shoulder. “You changed the
whole game.”

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Readers: If you made it this far, thank you for sticking with
Akeylah, Ren, and Zofi to the end of their journeys.
Watching so many of you venture into the world of Rule and
fall in love with these sisters has been an absolute dream
come true. As a friend said, “It’s like all these readers have
visited the inside of your brain now.” I hope you enjoyed the
trip, because I certainly loved sharing this story with you!

But it takes more than just one writer to bring a book (or
two) to life. This series wouldn’t exist without my wonderful
teams at Alloy and Little, Brown, and I owe a huge debt of
gratitude to everyone at both companies.

Thank you to the Alloy crew: Annie Stone for this initial idea;
Joelle Hobeika and Joshua Bank for championing it; Eliza
Swift and Hayley Wagreich for keeping it moving; Sara
Shandler for her assistance all along; Romy Golan for
helping it reach foreign markets; and Viana Siniscalchi for
expertly taking the helm of this project, and for talking me
off the ledge when the sophomore book fears hit hard.

Thank you to everyone at Little, Brown: Hannah Milton for

all of her tireless help in every area; Kristina Pisciotta for
fielding one million and more publicity questions; everyone
at NOVL for getting the word out about Rule; the LBYR

marketing crew—Jennifer McClelland-Smith, Emilie Polster,

and Valerie Wong

—for making sure this series found its way into the hands of
our readers; Annie McDonnell, Allie Singer, and Brandy
Colbert for ensuring every word on the pages is right;
Virginia Lawther for making Rise a beautiful final book;
Marcie Lawrence for her fantastic cover art (I didn’t think
she could top book one’s cover, but I love this one even
more); Alvina Ling, Megan Tingley, and Jackie Engel for
giving this duology the green light; and Pam Gruber for
falling in love with Rule in the first place, as well as for her
whip-smart edits that made Rise a (hopefully!) worthy
follow-up.

Thank you to everyone else who helped make Rule a

success: to the booksellers, librarians, and teachers who
championed it; to my fellow Electric Eighteens and the
panelists who coaxed me through my first few public
appearances; to Zoraida Córdova for her help with my
launch party; to my

family and friends for spamming their families and friends

with book news; and to everyone who read and shared this
series with others.

As always, a huge thank-you to my agent, Bridget Smith, for

being my sounding board and voice of reason, and for
championing all my many diverging projects.

For this book in particular, I also need to thank the generous

souls who allowed me to crash on/in their various
couches/spare rooms/floors/basements while I
wrote/edited/panicked about revisions:

Kris and Dale: thank you for opening your home to me, and
for giving me a place to relax in between bouncing all over
the country. FYI, readers, you have Kris to thank for bribing
me with chocolates in order to revive Ren.

Tricia and Shelby: I’m glad I was able to spend time with you
in LA. Even through trying circumstances, your respective
optimism and pragmatism was inspiring, and our catch-up
was long overdue!

Kevin and Melanie: it was great to explore your new city

together. Thank you for providing a quiet haven right when I
needed one to sort through my second round of edits.

Emily: I owe you for once again being the responsible fur-
baby parent. Miss you, and I hope all four of you are
enjoying it up there north of the wall.

Eva, Shunan, Allison, and the MerYork peeps: cheers for

saving me space on your couches. Someday when I’m a real
adult again, I promise to return the favor.
Meraki: especially the Ubud crew who kept me company as I
wrote the first draft of Rise, and the Dublisbon squad who
were there for my final edits—I couldn’t do this living-out-of-
a-suitcase thing without you all. Thank you for your endless
support, and for letting me derail our group chats with book
news far too often.
Document Outline
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
1: Akeylah
2: Florencia
3: Zofi
4: Florencia
5: Akeylah
6: Zofi
7: Florencia
8: Akeylah
9: Zofi
10: Florencia
11: Akeylah
12: Zofi
13: Florencia
14: Zofi
15: Akeylah
16: Florencia
17: Zofi
18: Akeylah
19: Florencia
20: Zofi
21: Akeylah
22: Florencia
23: Zofi
24: Akeylah
25: Zofi
26: Florencia
27: Akeylah
28: Zofi
29: Akeylah
30: Florencia
31: Zofi
32: Florencia
33: Akeylah
34: Zofi
Acknowledgments