Their plan unfolds within my mind: Tell me Cassia’s safe, lead me to focus solely on the Oracle, ensure I squanderthe time that could make the difference between Cassia’s life and death, then make sure my failure is public.
My people may not love me, but they love my sister.
She’s their warrior. She not only fights for them but cares for them, treating lowborn with the same respect as highborn.
It doesn’t matter if I have the Oracle; my people will turn against me if I’ve left Princess Cassia to die.
Already, Lady Delphina’s servants are whispering among themselves, loudly enough for their murmurs to catch on and spread.
“Princess Cassia is in danger.”
“The king left her behind.”
“He abandoned her.”
Delphina’s perfectly painted lips rise in a triumphant smile that reminds me of my mother’s gloating.
Her work is done.
The roar I was swallowing pushes to be released. Not because of the damage that has been done to me, but because I can’t lose Cassia.
She’s the only fae I trust. Even Victor can be manipulated against me. But Cassia remains true. Always. She loves her people more than her own ambition.
I never dreamed our mother would risk Cassia’s life like this. I never imagined she would go so far in her quest to destroy me.
I have to fly. I have to get back to Cassia. I need to find her and bring her home safely.
What if she’s already dead?
I can no longer hold in my roar, letting it out, my rage blasting across the street and echoing against the walls.
At any other time, my anger would have silenced the crowd, but around me, the insidious whispers have turned togenuine cries of concern, a testament to the love the lowborn have for my sister.
“Princess Cassia!”
“She’s in danger!”
“What can we do?”
I’m already turning, a whistle on my lips, a call to my eagle as I prepare to scoop Thyra up and leap onto my bird. All I can do is prepare to race back into the air and pray I find Cassia alive.
Then comes a whisper I wasn’t expecting.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Antony
“She’s safe.”
I freeze. My focus flies to Thyra. My rage is volatile, but oh, Thyra’s either recklessly brave or fucking suicidal to say such a thing to me right now.
She’s looking up at me, her faded eyes burning a hole in my soul. Her hands remain resolutely at her sides, her palms pressing to her thighs, as if she’s fighting a dangerous urge to reach out to me even though I warned her not to touch me again.
Fear makes me sound like a beast growling at her. “What did you say?”
“Your sister is safe.”
I step right up to Thyra, bending my head to hers. “Do not play games with me, Thyra.”
