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I yanked my arm away from him, nearly stumbling with the force of the action.

His face shifted from emotion to iron as flames burned in his irises. I copied the effect, having my own elemental magic to wield. He would not intimidate me. I had enough men that controlled me in my life.

“Rune,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

A man nearby glanced over curiously. Handsome with long blonde hair that framed his face, he was dressed like a nobleman. I recognized the sharpness in his eyes, and a moniker popped in my head. Gray Fox. Yes, this was the man my father had framed for the murder of Torvo’s mother. I’d learned of his intent to do so when he’d sent me away from the ball at the Imrati Trials that night. He’d let me go without draining me to near death for once. He said he’d gotten enough from the queen for the night.

I smiled at the man. He was another victim of my father. And he seemed less intent on intimidating me.

“Rivven,” I said, with a nod back at the other. Why Nyah was attracted to such brutishness, I had no idea.

“Princess.” Torvo’s deep voice wound its way down into my soul, reawakening every feeling I’d thought I’d sufficiently buried.

Turning my head, I smiled as my prince fell into step beside me. When he took my hand, my heart lurched.

“What’s happening?” I whispered, hopefully low enough that the half-elf, half-brute beside us couldn’t hear.

“We are in Astridon,” he answered with a grimace as he guided us around an oversized root protruding from the ground. “My youngest sister is leading us to a camp where rebels have gathered. The hope is they’ll lead us safely to Tromodia.”

I nodded, appreciating the update and the fact that he did not bring up the last time we’d spoken. I wasn’t ready for that conversation yet. Thankfully, he couldn’t see my cheeks burn in the darkness.

“Your sister?” I asked after a moment, breaking the silence that made every crunch, crunch, crunch of leaves sound so harsh.

“Yes. She was under the impression I defected when I won the Imrati and accepted our betrothal. You should know she is…less than fond of you, but only because she does not yet understand.”

I nodded, taking this in. Naturally, she would hate the woman who’d stolen her brother and taken him to live with the evil king. It actually made me appreciate how much she cared for Torvo. We had that in common.

“Are all of your sisters part of the resistance?”

“I can’t be sure, but I doubt it.” Torvo’s hand tightened around my own, and when I glanced down at it, I realized with some satisfaction that the outfit I had on was quite similar to the one I’d chosen in my mind. “Most of my sisters were used to only polite behavior and politics. Only Devira trained in combat with me. She was so far from the line to the throne that she might as well have been born a male. My birth order never mattered since I wouldn’t have been considered for the throne. That’s why we were so close. We were both on the periphery of the family.”

I squeezed his hand. “What a mistake.”

He tilted his head quizzically.

“These things shouldn’t be decided by gender or birthright. You are not only strong, but you are also clever, intelligent, patient, and you carry yourself with grace and kindness.” My throat cut off any more potential fawning, and I glanced away.

“Thank you,” Torvo said, and if I wasn’t mistaken, he sounded like there was something in his throat, too.

My muscles ached by the time we reached the camp beneath a canopy of trees. By then, Torvo had filled me in on everything I’d missed—quite a bit it turned out. The one thing I wish I’d been around to see was the dragon that my sist—Nyah had saved during the Imrati. I liked to think I helped with that, having broken through the protective daze that plagued me long enough to declare her a victor and gift her the egg it had hatched from. It had been a small moment, but one of triumph for me, nevertheless.

“Ven,” I repeated the name under my breath. I pictured her full grown like her mother, who I’d seen soaring in the sky above the first trial. Then I imagined her incinerating my father so that all that was left was a pile of ash, the crystals in his staff loose among his remains.

The story of the unnatural fissure in the Night Forest was troublesome. I recalled the small tremor I’d felt when my illusory dragon had roared during our escape from Centos and wondered if it was related. But how it all figured in with my father’s magic, I had no idea.

The mountain elf Torvo said was named Kendara passed ahead of the rest of us into the circle of people. A man at the front of a large campfire stood to greet her. He wore a dark cloak over worn leathers, and an ugly scar cut through the empty socket of his left eye. His skin was a shade darker than Torvo’s, making his features difficult to discern except in the flickering light of the fire. His hair was long, more gray than silver, and was tied back from his face. His one good eye rose to sweep past our small company, coming to rest first on Torvo and then settling on me.

Still clutching Torvo’s hand, I rolled my shoulders back, standing as tall as I could manage, and tugged us forward. I took strength and comfort in the fact he hadn’t let go and didn’t seem to want to. As we passed by, the other members of the circle stood, hands shooting to sword hilts and other weapons. One woman even set a hand on her bow, though I wasn’t sure how well that would work in close quarters.

None of them were of consequence. I could hold them all down with wind should I find it necessary. A cold clap of panic followed that thought. It was exactly the sort of thing I’d always feared the most—that I would lose all restraint with my power and wield it without care for the harm I might do. I pushed that away. I hadn’t considered harming anyone, just protecting our group.

“You are the leader here?” I demanded of the man.

Now that I was close, the puckered line bisecting his eye and running to mid-cheek became clear. It may have intimidated others, but all I felt was pity. The injury was no doubt a result of my father’s men. It made me feel I owed this man something.

“I am Hymer,” he answered in a slow drawl. Unlike the others, he did not reach for his weapon, just gazed at me as though he still hadn’t made up his mind about me.

That was refreshing.