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That nagging hollowness from the market returned. She knew he was only doing this for his family. That as soon as his role was fulfilled, he would vanish and she might never see him again. But while he was here, while he was still her guard, Thicket selfishly refused to let him go. She was okay if he didn’t want to be her friend. If he chose to not let her in. She just wanted to be near him, to have him at her side.

A quick knock rapped against the door. It swung open and the guard from before stuck his head inside. “The Emperor will see you now.”

Thicket took in a deep breath and let it out, relinquishing her glare to head for the exit.

“Princess,” Marcellus said when she was halfway out the door. She pivoted. His face was carefully blank, even for him. “Don’t give up on Delmore.”

Her jaw slackened as Marcellus brushed past her wordlessly. As he did, she caught a glimpse of his expression. It looked like a pane of glass that was barely holding itself together after having been shattered into a thousand tiny pieces.

The guard confiscated the swords from Marcellus’ belt before admitting them into the throne room. It was a large airy space. Columns separated the domed ceiling from the balcony hanging off the edge of the palace, furnished with woven rugs and plush seating. A man dressed in fine robes stood facing the view of the city beyond, hands clasped behind his back.

The Emperor of the Desert Kingdom.

The guard motioned for them to approach.

Thicket and Marcellus exchanged a brief look as they stepped onto the balcony.

“So you are Vindrya’s Crown Princess. The one rumored to have awoken after a century-long curse.” The Emperor turned. He couldn’t have been much older than thirty. His skin was smooth and sun-kissed from days spent beneath the sun. Perched on top of his thick black hair was a crown colored a deep gold. It didn’t glisten or shine, but rather absorbed the surrounding light, accentuating the engravings cut into the side. One of them, she recognized, was a phoenix.

“How do you know that?” Thicket asked.

The Emperor paced the length of the balcony. “News travels fast, just like the report I received yesterday about a group of intruders who trespassed upon the Phoenix Sanctuary.”

Thicket’s gut tightened. Marcellus shifted closer, as though ready to become a shield once more.

The Emperor moved past them, climbing the balcony steps to return to the throne room. “It seems rather odd,” he said, “to sneak inside my palace only to come straight through the front gates the very next morning. I was curious, so I had my guards relocate the intruder they apprehended. Imagine my surprise when I learned that my royal prisoner had returned with yet another intruder.”

He directed his head towards the curtain along the back wall. Thicket’s stomach plummeted as half a dozen guards escorted Bern, Elian, and Alouette inside the throne room. Alouette and Elian looked untouched, but Bern’s dress was in tatters, clinging to her filthy, sweat-slicked skin. One of the guards held a knife to her throat, so close it bobbed in time with her swallow. Her eyes were wide and fearful as she met Thicket’s.

“Bern!” Thicket went to run forward but Marcellus held her back.

“So you do know each other,” the Emperor said. “If anyone even dares utter a single incantation, my guard will slit her throat. I do not care how powerful your magic is. I can guarantee her blood will spill faster.”

Thicket’s heart beat, beat, beat against her chest.

The Emperor smoothed his robes and settled upon his throne. “Tell me, what did Vindrya and Dymree stand to gain by killing the phoenix? Did you believe their abilities would grant you leverage over my kingdom?”

“No,” Thicket said. “We didn’t kill the phoenix.”

The Emperor’s eyes narrowed. “I find that hard to believe. While Vindrya was trapped within thorns and Dymree was entertaining its own narcissistic people, our kingdom grew very close to our neighbor.”

Malont. Dymree and Vindrya’s mother kingdom.

“I can say with certainty Malont did not kill the phoenix. That leaves only two culprits.”

“Neither Vindrya or Dymree is responsible,” Thicket insisted. “It was my sister. Lavender Vogeli.”

The Emperor’s eyes were assessing, reading every slight shift as though the truth of her words could be found somewhere within the folds of her posture.

Thicket plowed on. “If you know about my curse, then surely you know how Lavender cursed Vindrya to take the crown for herself. When I finally woke up, I sought an alliance with Dymree in order to combat her army and reclaim my throne. To retaliate, my sister killed a phoenix and pinned the blame on Dymree.”

The Emperor stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Do you have any proof of this?”

Thicket opened her mouth to say yet but hesitated. The only proof she had lay in what she had seen in Lavender’s memory. But to tell him this, he would need to believe her at her word—something he had yet to do.

The Emperor nodded, as though her silence had been answer enough. “Guards,” he said. “Apprehend the Crown Princess and her fiancé.”

The guards approached. Marcellus stepped in front of her, his stare as lethal as his absent sword as the guards boxed them in.