Page 29

“Katerina.” Duchess Laeliana Ravenswing’s gentle, firm voice filtered through Kit’s ears, pulling her from her thoughts. In a blur of silver hair and purple fabric, Laeliana swept across the balcony, drawing her daughter into her arms for a brief, though surprisingly strong-armed, hug. Then she peeled back and held Kit at arm’s length, one hand lying on each of her shoulders. “You look tired, darling.”

Kit’s eyes vibrated with the desire to roll into the back of her head as she stepped back, letting Laeliana’s hands fall to her sides. “Lovely to see you too, Mother.”

“It’s not an insult. Simply a fact. How long did you fly to get back here alone?” The last word was rife with emotion, and Kit’s icy defensiveness melted a little.

“I traveled by horseback as far as Daeglen and rested there last night. I’m fine. I wanted to get back as soon as possible. There’s so much we have to⁠—”

“I know. Your uncle knows too. He is ready to speak with you.”

Kit immediately spun on her heel, moving to head inside, but a gentle hand snagged her by the wrist and drew her back.

“What happened in Kingshelm,” Laeliana said quietly, her golden eyes downcast, “has changed much for the king, I fear. Please tread carefully with him. Dentarius was . . .” She swallowed. “We are all still grieving, and I know what you want to ask of your uncle. Please don’t be too disheartened if he does not give the answer you are hoping for.”

Kit bristled. “I⁠—”

“I know.” Her mother’s voice was soft, soothing. “I miss her too. Fear for her too. I just want you to be prepared.”

“You don’t know what I came here to ask, not exactly. Neither of you could possibly know. I could only fit so much in a letter, and even just in the time since I last wrote you, a lot has happened. So, Uncle Lach may think he knows all the facts, but I can absolutely, definitively, without a doubt say he does not.”

Laeliana huffed a sigh, the sound of parental exasperation that Kit was entirely too familiar with. “Katerina, he is the king.”

“Which means nothing. King Callum didn’t have a clue that his closest advisor was Varyth fucking Malchior the entire time. Didn’t know he had planted the seeds of treason and insurrection right under his nose. Didn’t know he was siphoning away mana and manipulating his forces. Just like my uncle most likely does not know that some of those seeds have been planted on this side of the Chasm too.”

“What does that mean?” Laeliana’s eyes were wide, her golden irises glossy.

“It means I need to speak with our king.”

“They killed the accords the instant they killed Dentarius!” shouted Lachlandris, rising to his feet. The air around him refracted, heat shimmering off him in waves as the king of Nyrundelle attempted to rein in his flamecalling magic.

Taking a deep breath, he settled back on his throne atop the dais at the back of the throne room, sunlight reflecting off the silver points of his crown. He already looked older than Kit remembered, like he had aged in the months since she saw him last. His deep brown skin, nearly luminous in its smooth beauty, was lined around his mouth, creased across his forehead. His grass-green eyes, the exact same shade as one of Kit’s, simultaneously looked more exhausted and sharper than she’d ever seen them. Was he sleeping? she wondered. Eating? She didn’t think the ultimate mother hen, Laeliana Ravenswing, would allow her big brother to stop taking care of himself—or letting other people take care of him, as was more likely for the king of the fae—but Kit could also recognize there was something unhinged about the version of her uncle that stood before her, still screaming about all the ways the humans had broken faith with the rest of Arcanis.

“Uncle, the attack on King’s Keep, all the uncovered subterfuge, was the work of one man and his followers, not the entirety of Havensreach.” Kit’s voice was even, placating.

“Then they are the ones you should be asking for help,” he said bitterly.

“Unc—Your Majesty, surely you know that we have—we are. But Varyth Malchior’s attack on King’s Keep destabilized the humans. Kingshelm is still recovering, and so much time has already passed. The longer we go without finding Elyria, without recovering the crown, the greater the odds Malakar will find a way to do so instead.”

It wasn’t a lie. Not really. It just wasn’t the entire truth. And Kit couldn’t quite put her finger on why, but something told her that explaining the full story behind the crown, and the locket, and the prophesied heir who already had both halves in his possession, would not be the right way to convince her uncle to help.

The king threw his hands in the air. “Malakar,” he hissed, jaw clenched. “See, this is the problem, Katerina. You come here to ask for my resources, for my soldiers to help scour the Midlands for sanguinagi scum, for me to find your friend.”

Kit held her breath.

“Yet in the same breath you inform me that the dark sorcerer has returned? And you want me to dilute our strength? I was there, niece. I was on the battlefield with your father and your mother and your brother two hundred years ago. With the Revenant. And long before I witnessed the Shattering light up the sky, I saw what Malakar’s blood warriors did to our people. What they would try to do again now, if given the chance.”

“Uncle—”

“If Malakar has truly returned, do you not think his eyes will be on Aerithia next? Do you not think he is picking up the pieces of his former plans, rabid in his desire to tame us wild Arcanians and cement his seat of power over us all? You ask me to risk our own people in order to find your friend, and that is not a trade a king can make.”

Kit shook her head. “It is not a matter of trading one for the other, Your Majesty. Finding Malakar’s stronghold, flushing out his cultists, these are acts of protection for all Nyrundelle. I’ve told you what just occurred outside Daeglen. He could have planted followers of his all across the continent. Ones who may not even know what they⁠—”

“Then the hunt should begin in our own lands, looking for humans where there ought to be none.” The king’s eyes were cold, unyielding, and a sudden burst of fear licked down Kit’s spine.

“That’s not what I—humans as a whole are not the issue. Malakar is. The entirety of humanity should not be punished for one man’s evil.”

“Long have they jailed us, maimed us, and killed us for much less.”

Kit shook her head. “You yourself have said many times how we are not them. How we could help them, even, to be better. If they would allow it. And then, finally, they did. When you signed the accords⁠—”