“Anything to report from there?” Nina bit the inside of her cheek.
Think. Fast.
“We traveled through there on our way back to Rimemere, Majesty. During our journey, we only saw some stragglers, but nothing more.”
“You didn’t encounter Yavenharrow under total chaos, near rubble beneath fire and blood?” Gina angled her head, as if the woman could see right through her. “Quite the luck you all had by avoiding it.”
After some beats of silence, and the realization Nina and Cas weren’t divulging any more information, Arnold sighed. “We shall begin the Coronation Vows in a week. I must send out formal invitations to the continent.”
Her breath hitched. “The—Is that still a practice?”
“Of course. Rimemere tradition,” Samara added, studying her silver nails. “One of the more fun ones, if I do say so myself.”
Beside Nina, Shadows rose from the ground, swirling around Cas's feet. “I believe the Princess’ situation calls for an exception.”
“Are you still speaking?” The King stood. “And no. Her situation does nothing for her except make her a weakness.”
Blood heating, Nina squeezed her hands into fists, but before she could counter with something, anything to get Sol out of the gods’ awful ritual, Arnold clapped his hands in a summon. “Finigan.”
As if from thin air itself, Finigan Cale stepped into the room, sword in one hand—and whip in the other.
“Punishment for unprovoked assault is ten lashes, Miss Amana.”
Hands gripped her arms, kingsmen she hadn’t noticed dragging her forward. Nina struggled not to trip as her bones turned to ice and vision blurred at the sight of the whip up close, the image of the last time she had seen it used burning through her eyelids. Panic squeezed at her throat as they pushed her to her knees.
“It was provoked. Your kingsguard called the Princess a whore!” Cas's tone was fierce, but the edge of desperation tugged at Nina’s chest. “I will take Amana’s lashings. Let her go, Semmena.”
Arnold peered at Cas, a tight smile pulling at the edge of his lips while his golden eyes shone with anticipation. “You are due for something way worse than lashes, Casimir Xanthos Morozov.” Instantly, the room fell dark.
The chandelier flickered and then extinguished, the hall firelights exploding at the mention of the Prince of Shadow’s gods-given name.
Nina hadn’t seen a Draining in years.
Unfortunately, the gods weren’t fond of punishing their connection to the terrestrial plane—the Rimemere ruler. So the Draining would be for Cas and not the one who uttered his name.
Nina twisted out of the kingsmen’s grasp, crawling her way back to Cas.
With an awful groan, he fell to his knees, illuminated by his violet Ward in a halo around him.
“Cas…” Nina breathed as she reached him. She grabbed his arm and slashed it open with her wielder ring.
His blood fell in streams, and where it met the marble ground, it evaporated into golden stars. Cas's face relaxed, his breathing trembling, as he glared at the King with the promise of vengeance.
Around them, the tension dissipated, and the chandelier stuttered back to life as he gave his blood to the gods, the consequence of having his full name uttered by anyone other than himself.
Tears burned in Nina’s eyes as she took him into a hug.
If she hadn't let his blood flow, he would have burned out quickly. Without another entity to punish, he would have received it tenfold.
“It always stuns me just how quickly Warren demands your blood, Casimir,” Arnold said. “So peculiar.”
“Quit the fucking shows, Semmena.” Samara said, the sound of her footsteps storming forward. “Piss off the Yarrows all you want, but leave my brother alone.”
Her mother laughed. “So honorable of you to protect your halfbrother, Samara,” Gina said.
“Ten lashes for Amana.” Arnold tapped the throne’s armrest with lanky fingers. “Now.”
Nina clung to Cas, her tears flowing. He pressed a small, gentle kiss to her forehead and whispered, “You won’t be hurt, Nins.”
