I sat up and gripped the side of the bed, testing my feet on the plush rug. I could stand without issue, only the slight twinge in my calves betraying what had happened to me.
Physically anyway.
My head still played the encounter with the Viceroy over and over and over again. How had I ever thought I could go up against him? How had I thought I could walk out of the palace with the crown? Thinking about his cold face as he tortured me made my stomach sink and my palms sweat.
But bits and pieces of the aftermath had come back to me.
Kiyan’s face in the dungeon, stark and wild. Vines wrapping themselves around me, so gently. The pain being smothered by softness and whispered words.You’re safe. You’re safe.
And I was.
“You should be able to do everything you can normally do—run, climb, dance.”
“I’ll save the dancing for another time. But I’m ready to leave this tent without assistance.”
Shouts sounded from outside and I gripped the bedpost hard. The panic that swarmed my chest every time an odd noise sounded needed to be controlled. I pressed my hand to my heart, slowing my breath.
“What is it?”
Zaye frowned and lifted my tent flap. “I don’t know. Someone new has joined us in camp. It looks like...” She paused and gave a little squeak, not sparing me another glance as she ran out of the tent in a flurry. I followed in her wake, stepping out into the sunshine, squinting my eyes at the bright light. I hadn’t really been outside in days, and I didn’t know what sort of welcome I’d receive in the rebel camp. Not only was I responsible for their prince blowing his secret identity, but I’d lost them Queen Azari’s crown as well.
But no one was paying me any attention as I walked into the middle of the rebel camp. A girl stood in the center, beside a giant roaring fire.
Her head was thrown back in a laugh as Zaye threw her arms around her. Cold shock poured over me as I realized who it was.
And suddenly a memory surfaced, flooding back to me, placing the voice I couldn’t quite pinpoint before.
You gave away your position for her?
The voice had belonged to Mishah.
I remembered her wild eyes in the forest, practically begging me not to reveal her.
Mishah wrapped her arms around Zaye with a grin on her face, looking absolutely nothing like the scared kitchen girl I’d known from the palace, and more like the girl from my room who tackled me to the ground to take back the crown.
She laughed at something, clapping another rebel on the back, her other hand intertwined with Zaye’s. She must have sensed me watching her, must have known I was there, for at once she raised her chin, meeting my eyes from across the camp. The smile on her face stilled and faded, and she looked uncertain for a moment. But in a flash it was replaced with a challenge in her expression.
I leaned against the entrance of my tent, my eyes burning, a knot in the pit of my stomach as I stared at the girl who I thought was my friend, a girl who betrayed me to the Viceroy and left me for dead.
Chapter 45
It was like losing you all over again. And I realized I couldn’t let that happen.
Not to someone else.
—Letter from Kiyan to his family, unsent
Kiyan
“Your highness, Ramishah is back. We should convene the council. She says she has more information.”
I nodded at the rebel, unused to being addressed like this yet—addressed by my status as a Prince when I felt like anything but. When I arrived I assumed I’d be treated like an enemy of my Court, not a new leader to rally behind. But when we’d carried Tal and Yaseema into camp, I could feel the spark of hope in the fae around me.
Rubbing my eyes, I placed my quill down on the desk. Then I stood, stretching my arms above my head, and followed the soldier from my tent.
“How is Yaseema? Has Zaye given her report?”
But before the soldier could respond I stopped short at the glimpse of dark, thick curls wild in the wind on the other side of the camp. Yaseema was walking—no,striding across the camp as if her legs hadn’t been a bloodied, broken mess a few days prior.
