Serafina watches me closely, searching my gaze for any sign of jest. I allow her to see the ferocity within me and the keen focus of my resolve. Nikolas is my target. He will rue the day he ever thought himself above me. I stitch every thread of vengeance with care, and I will stop at nothing untilhisrebellion ends bymyhand.
Serafina gives me a curt nod. “Yes.”
“Slip this in his drink tonight at the party.” I move over to my satchel, pulling out the vial of Scorpion’s Haze and handing it to her. The liquid is slightly green in hue and is thick and viscous. “You should also slip a little into a few other cups as well, particularly the Duke of Valneth, if you can. It will make it seem less like a targeted attack. Do not get it on your skin and toss the empty vial immediately out a window.”
She nods again, her sadness slowly fading into a determined resolve.
“I will handle the King,” I tell her. “You will stay in the shadows.”
“I understand.” She tucks the vial into her dress.
“Good,” I reply firmly. “You are dismissed.”
Serafina gives me a small curtsy. “Thank you… Princess Raelys,” she says before exiting my room.
Moving quickly, I rummage through my belongings, pulling out the riding outfit Rowena made for me. I set it just beside my cloak and boots, and then toss all of my notes and letters into the fire, leaving no remains. I place my two copies of the Warlord Chronicles on the bedside table, my fingertips lingering over the cover.
Once Serafina poisons Nikolas, he will be incapacitated and won’t be able to kill off Khalessor’s troops when they arrive in Thalvar. The extra troops will stay here, and the rebellion won’t be able to attack without their leader. With the rebellion squandered and the North destabilized, I can slip away in the chaos and finally be free. I have enough money from Kaia to pay someone to take me far,faraway from here. I dream of a place where no one knows my face or name, and neither duties nor curses can bind me.
I want to be free, but if I am being truthful with myself, it’s because I’m not ready to say goodbye. The bonds I’ve forged in the North are some of my fondest, and I didn’t expect to build such a strong companionship with them. I can’t stay here. I’ve done too many awful things. Casimir will never forgive me if he finds out I caused the famine that led his people to starve.
I came to the North because I had no choice if I wanted to survive, but I used this opportunity to play the games of war with Casimir as my opponent—to prove to myself that I am capable. I swore to him that letting me into Khalessor would be his greatest error, but it is mine. This mark on my skin was once my plight, but now it’s my salvation, and I’ve crossed the person I’m falling for.
I scan every inch of my room, slowly taking in the space around me one last time. I may never see it again. It feels different than the time I left my room in Cathros. That versionof me is practically a stranger; she was kind, sheltered, and naive.
I am not.
Every part of me breeds vengeance. Lies roll off my tongue like sermon. Manipulation serves as my only companion. I hate myself for it because Iloveit. As I approach the banquet hall, my resolve strengthens. The game of court is one I refuse to lose.
Lifting my chin, I glide into the room with a crafted air of grace and poise, looking for one person in particular. I take note of the gathered guests, filing the details of the guest list in the back of my mind. Breaking from the crowd is Casimir, his long steps crossing the room to greet me. I slip my hand into his, allowing him to guide me through the room.
“The Duke of Corovya seems to be missing,” I say quietly.
“And the Duke of Ashvarin,” Casimir replies in an equally subtle tone. His gloved hand wraps around my waist as his thumb makes maddeningly slow circles across my hip.
Sebastian isn’t here? That is odd. I haven’t seen him since the night at the ball. Perhaps he traveled back to Rykaris? But that can’t be; now that winter has fully set in, the snow is thick and the land barren, making traveling long distances far too much of a challenge. Sebastian also wanted me to take his king's deal; he wouldn’t give up and leave that easily, would he?
“Wine?” Casimir nods to a passing servant with a tray of wine.
I lock eyes with Serafina, who only stares at me with silent determination in her gaze. Casimir reaches to pick one up, and a sudden realization shoots through me. With Serafina holding trays with several goblets, not serving each glass individually, I have no idea which goblets contain poison and which ones don’t.
“Don’t drink,” I whisper, and his hand freezes.
Casimir’s arm lowers. “You know something I don't.”
“Do you trust me?” I’m stunned by my question.
His grip slightly tightens around my waist. “I do.”
I want to tell him of the attack and Nikolas’ plans to betray him—that he’s the leader of the rebellion—but I can’t. Eyes follow my every movement like daggers waiting to strike. I take note of the long table of food, the display of wealth and prosperity, while the town is in shambles. Highborns never go hungry. I should have crafted a better plan, one that would have had a more direct impact on them.
“Your Majesty.” Barnham approaches us. “A word, please.”
“One moment.” Casimir drops his hand from my waist and walks away.
I’m left adrift in a sea of staring royals. I don’t blame them, not after what happened with Horatio. They are justified in being wary of me. I don’t mind the ones who stare; after all, I’m the human among them.
“Princess.” Someone approaches me.
