The light from the torches reflects off his face, throwing shadows along his cheeks. “And what would you say, Princess? Am I to believe you would speak in my defense to Prince Dane?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
His golden eyes are so cold in the flickering torchlight. He doesn’t believe me. It’sclearhe doesn’t believe me.
What’s worse is that I can’t blame him.
The palace guards draw closer. At our back, his soldiers’ torches seem to blaze hotter for a moment, a reminder of the power he wields. I shiver.
“He has the princess!” a man cries—and I’m shocked to realize it’s Dane. The voice is full of outrage, and maybe a little fear. Was he worried about the alliance, or was he worried aboutme?
Ky’s arm tightens on my waist, and it makes me gasp. I can’t decide if the movement is protective or possessive—a threat or a promise. Maybe both. He sketches a sigil and draws a flicker to his palm, holding it right in front of me. It’s tiny, dancing like the flame of a candle. I stare at the light, fascinated despite myself.
Another cry goes up from the palace guard, and Dane shouts an order. Weapons are drawn, but Ky’s soldiers don’t flinch. Neither does he.
“Dane was not responsible for this,” I say in a rush. “And you have every right to be angry. With me, with Asher, with Dane himself. But it was my choice to remove you from the palace.Nothis. Do not unravel this alliance because I saw a threat and took steps to protect you. Do not risk all of our people because my brother doesn’tunderstand.”
Against me, the king goes rigid. I can see his expression in the firelight, and his jaw is tight. His two soldiers are watching him, waiting for a signal—but they’re ready to fight. I can see it. The ones coming up behind probably are, too.
“Six archers,” says Callum from the other side. His hand slips to the back of his saddle, reaching for a bow.
“Hold,” says Ky. His eyes are still on mine. That ball of flame blazes above his palm.
I wet my lips. “Perhaps someone in the palaceisplotting against you—just as someone from Incendar might be plotting againstme. But this alliance is bigger than that. You say you want to protect your people. If that’s true, then you will douse your flames and you will allow me to speak to Dane. You will not put all of this at risk over a petty grievance.”
“Petty!” he exclaims. His eyebrows go up, and he laughs a little under his breath, but not like anything is funny.
But I stare right back at him, because nothing is. I think of the secretsI know about my father, and everything that’s at stake. I think of Asher, who risked his life to protect mine, and just like before, he’ll pay the price.
Be brave, be strong, be smart.
My heart gives a wrench, and my eyes grow hot. But tears won’t help me, and they definitely won’t help Asher. Not now. I steel my spine and keep my eyes on the king.
He sobers, then runs a hand across his jaw. “How can I trust you?” His eyes narrow. “It’s clear you don’t trustme.”
Maybe he’s right, and we’ll never trust each other. But I remember that moment when we were alone in my chambers, that single flicker of connection I felt when he spoke of protecting his people, and I wanted to protect mine.
“I don’t trust you,” I say coolly—because it’s likely I never will again. “But I won’t riskmypeople over the life of one man either.” I pause. “Surelyyouunderstand this, Your Majesty.”
The king studies me for one eternal second. A new emotion lights in his gaze, and it’s so rare that I don’t recognize it for a moment: regard. “As I said,” he murmurs. “Formidable.”
And then, before I can react, he crushes the flame out of his palm and turns to face my brother.
“Prince Dane,” he calls sharply. “Have your soldiers lower their arms. Your sister would like to talk.”
Chapter Fifteen
The Assassin
No one stays in the palace dungeon for long. If your crime is bad enough, you’re executed. Otherwise, you’re marked and turned over to the slavers.
Despite everything I’ve endured, I’ve really only been here once before.
This time is just as bad as the first.
When the guards hauled me away, I couldn’t look at Jory. My heart was a wild rush in my ears, my thoughts consumed with panic. I kept hearing the king’s low voice when he promised sanctuary, the way my blood pulsed with longing. How for one shining moment I wanted to believe there was a way out of Astranza, away from the threat of slavers and the torment of killing. The way I allowed a spark of hope to form in my heart.
The way I believed every word.
