She hadn’t realized until that moment how tightly wound she was. She flinched as she thought of Captain Carr’s attack in the carriage, his harsh words, and his even more violent hands as he’d torn her dress. Though it had been no pleasure to thrust the knife into his neck, she was glad he was dead.
“I’m all right,” she reassured Rangar. “Or at least I will be once Mars is on the throne.”
“Be careful,” Rangar urged. “I only now have you back—I can’t lose you again.”
She brushed the pads of her fingers over the scars on his face. Maybe it had been fate that the battle had taken place at the location where their lives had first collided. Months ago, she would have scoffed at the idea of fate, but now she was becoming a believer.
“You won’t lose me,” she promised. “Not ever.”
She tore herself away from Rangar, lifting her tattered skirt to hurry up the stairs to the ballroom.
Most of the Mirien’s soldiers had been commandeered to accompany the moonlit procession, so only a handful remainedto guard the castle. As Bryn raced up to the two guards stationed outside the ballroom, they drew their swords in alarm to see her disheveled.
“My lady . . . ” One started.
“Captain Carr is dead,” she cut him off firmly. “Wake Lord Tarry and Lord Gerbert. As crown heir, I’m ordering all the kingdom’s advisors to the throne room immediately.”
The soldiers looked uncertain but did as she commanded, heading to the apartments in the east of the castle where the advisors slept.
She found two more guards beside the stairs to the royal apartments and sent them to wake the remaining advisors and senior military staff.
Before heading back to the throne room, she glanced briefly up the stairs toward her old bedroom. She was covered in blood, ash, and mud, and her dress was torn scandalously over her chest. It was no kind of way to appear as her brother was named king—and even more importantly, the death slumber hexmark was visible on the bare skin that showed through the tear. If the advisors saw it, they would know of her use of magic—and yet she couldn’t afford the time to change.
So be it,she thought.They think me merely a pawn. Let them see me as I truly am.
She strode down the hall to the throne room. Several servants in thrown-together clothes were scurrying around the halls, lighting the lanterns. They gave her messy appearance startled looks.
“Mars!” Bryn cried in relief as she entered the throne room and caught sight of Rangar and Illiana leading Mars toward the pair of thrones. Her brother wore a crisp black band around his eyes as well as fresh clothes and their father’s silk mantel. He looked every bit a king.
“Bryn. My dear sister.” Mars held out his hand, and when she slipped hers into his palm, he squeezed it. “You made this happen. You and the Baer princes.” He angled himself toward Rangar’s direction and said loudly, “I am in your debt, Prince Rangar.”
They were interrupted by the sounds of footsteps in the hall. Lord Tarry, wearing hastily donned clothes, his gray hair still messy from sleep, strode in.
“What is the meaning of this?” Lord Tarry froze when he spotted Mars. His face went as pale as if he’d seen a ghost—which he perhaps thought was precisely what he was seeing. “Prince Mars? You’re . . . you’re alive!”
Lord Gerbert entered behind him and drifted to a stop with equal shock on his face. A few soldiers came in behind them along with some servants. Whispers began to run wild throughout the gathering crowd about the prince who’d returned from the dead.
“Illiana,” Mars stated. “Lead me to the throne.”
Illiana helped him make his way there, where he sank into the bronze chair with a straight back. With his chin high, he announced, “Yes, Lord Tarry, as you noted, I am indeed alive. Which is more than I can say for the usurper, Captain Carr. His lies led me astray when I took the throne after my parents’ death—and I shall generously assume that he lied to you as well, unless you wish to be associated with a traitor, but now I know my proper place.”
His fingers curled firmly over the throne’s armrests.
Despite the late hour, the throne room quickly filled with the remainder of the shocked advisors, servants, and common folk who’d heard the rumors and rushed to see the truth with their own eyes.
A few minutes later, Christof appeared at the throne room entrance.
Bryn sucked in a relieved breath.
The battle must be over.
Blood streaked Christof’s arm, but he appeared to be otherwise unhurt. As the crowd parted for him, he strode directly to the throne and leaned close to Mars.
“My king, the battle is won.” Christof reported. “Baer fighters, along with our own rebel forces, are surrounding the castle as we speak. Any Mir soldiers remaining here will be given the choice between swearing loyalty to you, or death.”
Mars gave a decisive nod.
Christof straightened and moved back to stand next to his sister, who pressed her face against his shoulder in relief. Bryn felt a swell of disbelief—she never dreamed she’d actually be standing in Castle Mir again with her brother on his throne.
