When I emerge, the ache is softer, bearable. I dry off and dress in the simple black tunic and trousers left folded near the hearth. The fabric smells faintly of smoke and herbs. I braid my hair, twisting the damp strands away from my face.
For the first time in days, I feel almost like myself again. Almost.
When I step outside, Arther straightens. We exchange nods, and I set off. Like a shadow, he follows a few paces behind me in utter silence. The corridor outside the king’s chambers hums faintly with enchantments woven into the stone. My bare feet whisper across the polished floor as I make my way toward the east wing.
Mariel’s laughter carries faintly through the hall, greeting me before I even reach her door. The sound tugs something loose in my chest, a thread of relief I didn’t know I was holding.
I knock softly.
“Come in!”
Mariel sits propped against a pile of pillows, a book open in her lap. Vivian lounges near the window, her red hair unbraided and glowing in the filtered light. Cassy is curled beside her, eyes heavy as she nibbles at a piece of sweetbread. All three look pale and breakable—but alive.
Arther softly shuts the door behind me, waiting just outside.
Cassy looks up, and before I can get in a single word, she’s in my arms, trembling.
I hold her tight. Deep down, I know even this fragile peace can never last. Not here. Not with what’s coming.
When Cassy finally pulls back, I hand her the rose Keiren plucked from the garden. She doesn’t react, but it’s better than an outburst.
Mariel studies me closely. “Mae said you were nearly gone when they pulled you from the room. The poison—”
“I’m fine,” I say. “Mostly.”
Vivian’s gaze sharpens. “‘Fine’ doesn’t look like scars on your side. And ‘fine’ certainly doesn’t sleep in the king’s chambers.”
I blink. “How—”
“Everyone knows,” Mariel cuts in, though her tone is more teasing than accusing.
“Apparently,” Vivian adds dryly, “when the king himself whisks you away after murdering two would-be assassins on your behalf, people notice.”
My cheeks heat. I remember how carefully he carried me that night—how he held me until the poison was gone. “It wasn’t like that. He was just helping me.”
“Mmhmm,” Vivian hums, unconvinced. “If that’s what we’re calling it.”
“Oh, leave her be,” Mariel says, dog-earing her page, snapping her book shut, and stretching. “I’m just gladoneof us is getting a little attention. Gods know I miss the embrace of a good man.”
Vivian smirks. “Try aiming for one that isn’t cursed next time.”
Before I can retort, Vivian’s tone turns serious. “They say the attack wasn’t random.”
My chest tightens. “What do you mean?”
Mariel sets her book aside. “Word’s spreading through the keep. Someone ordered the assassin’s mark. That blade wasmeantfor you.”
Vivian crosses her arms. “The king’s court is crawling with snakes. If I were you, I’d start watching the ones who smile too much.”
“You think one of the brides…?”
“Or someone in his council,” Mariel finishes grimly. “Someone powerful enough to breach the wards on our rooms.”
“Or someone immortal,” Vivian adds darkly. “Mae said the wards on our rooms were woven by the Bound Four themselves. If they were broken…”
My pulse stutters. “Maybe one of them did it,” I finish.
The door creaks open before I can respond. Mae steps in, her golden hair braided with silver thread, her expression cool but kind. Cassian follows behind her, smirking like he owns the room. Speak of the devil.
