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“Mmm.” Dyonisia tapped a finger against her chin. “Yes, I’m beginning to believe that. But unfortunately—” She took a step toward him, so that her armor of antipower nearly brushed against his bowed head. “—that means we have a much larger problem on our hands. So let me repeat the question, king: do you surrender?”

At this, Jagaros finally looked up. Finally pulled himself up onto trembling legs and rose to his full height, rage clashing with grief across his features. Even without his crown, he looked every bit the faerie king of old in that moment.

“If I do, you will never harm another one of my people again.”

Dyonisia considered him for a moment that might as well have been an eternity before she sighed.

“Fine. Every faerie born of this island from here on out is yours to claim and protect however you see fit, and I will not take any further action to harm them.” Her antipower puffed out, and Jagaros winced as it wafted against his skin. Dyonisia smiled with all her pointed teeth. “But I am the ruler of this island now. And as such, you will not take any further action to harm me or my council. Swear it.”

Jagaros stared as she reached into one of the pouches tied at her waist and rifled through clinking bottles, pushing aside one sloshing with what looked like blood before bringing out another filled with bubbling black liquid.

I knew what it was in an instant. Tilu naha. The ink that forged oaths.

Slowly, Dyonisia uncorked it and poured some of the liquid onto her hand. After returning the bottle to her pouch, she held out her ink-smeared palm.

For a second, I didn’t think Jagaros would do it, even though I knew the outcome. He shuddered, eyeing that palm with repulsion, knowing, no doubt, that it would save his surviving people and betray them at the same time.

Then he grasped her hand.

Dyonisia began to mutter an incantation that muffled in the air, as if swallowed by the mist of this memory. A black, smoke-like substance rose from their clasped hands, forming a dark cloud above Jagaros’s head.

Such a familiar dark cloud.

But unlike my oath, Jagaros’s rained down upon him instantly. Droplets speckled him like blood, wiggling into formation until a tiger-like stripe encircled his throat, chaining him to that single command.

You will not take any further action to harm me or my council.

Now, he had truly surrendered to her for the rest of his life.

As the mist furled in on itself, I yanked myself out of Jagaros’s mind, trying not to spew a million curses in every language I knew.

“You see?” Jagaros said from across the table while Dazmine and Terrin peered at us, oblivious to what I’d just witnessed. “I cannot fight.”

I raked a hand through my hair, letting my gaze wander across the sunroom as if the answer might drop from the towering cliffs. Twilight hovered overhead, and the tiger, it seemed, had left the room while I’d been in Jagaros’s mind. Even the turtles had stopped their torpid circles, the surface of the pond water peaceful and still.

“Okay, so you can’t fight,” I said finally. “That doesn’t mean we can’t. And when we clear the path for you, there’s nothing stopping you from putting your crown back on.”

I thought I had him this time, but Jagaros gripped the stone table and growled, “My crown is long gone, Coen Steeler.”

It wasn’t me who answered… and good thing, because I was about ready to pummel him in the face. No, somebody else appeared in the archway, surrounded by dozens and dozens of other faeries who ogled us as a certain tiger settled onto its haunches up front, blinking at Jagaros with smug satisfaction.

“Is it, brother? Is it really?”

And right in front of our eyes, Kanuk lifted up a single object for all to see.

CHAPTER

17

Rayna

“What is it? What is it?”

A ball of brown fur leapt off my nightstand and sprung toward me as soon as I nudged open the door.

“Cassava cake,” I announced, nodding down at the tray in my hands, “roasted cashews, and fried plantains.” I gestured at Emelle and Wren, who both appeared behind me with their own trays or bowls.

We’d decided to grab some food from the dining hall and eat in tonight. Melle was having her monthly cramps and Wren didn’t want to be around people after a particularly torturous day in Mr. Conine’s class, where the fourth-years had had to wrestle broad-snouted caimans.