“I suppose so. Good goddess, Jonas, is that Aron’s dagger?” Cleo asked, aghast. “Have you really kept that horrible thing all this time?”

“Answer my question,” he said, far more sharply than he’d meant to address the princess. Finally, he’d done the thing he’d been yearning to do for so long, but once again the fates would not see him succeed—not even after delivering a fatal blow.

“You didn’t kill the king,” Cleo replied tightly, “because the king already met his death days ago.”

As Jonas tried desperately to process this incredible statement, a woman descended the stairs. She was older, with lines around her eyes, and she wore a dark gray cloak that matched her hair. She entered the meeting hall, regarding all present with a steady stare, until finally her gaze fell upon Gaius.

She lingered upon the image for only the briefest of moments before shooting the darkest of glares directly at Jonas. “You did this to my son?”

A cool shiver moved up his arms, over his shoulders, and down his spine at the barely controlled rage in her words.

Her son?

“It’s fine,” the king said gaspingly, reaching for the woman’s sleeve as she rushed to his side.

“This is not fine. Not at all.” She looked again to Jonas, and with her stare came the frigid sensation of ice freezing him in place. “You would dare attempt to murder your king?”

“He’s not my king,” Jonas snarled, refusing to show any weakness or doubt. “He murdered my friends in his ill-gotten war, executed those who refused to bow before him, and enslaved my people to build his precious Imperial Road. Not one person in this room would argue that he doesn’t deserve to die for his crimes.”

She balled her hand into a fist. “I would.”

“No, Mother,” Gaius said, his voice hushed. “Let him be. We need him. I believe we will need all these young people to regain what Amara has taken.”

Slowly, the king rose from the ground, and Jonas couldn’t help but take an uncertain step back from him. The deep wound from the blade had stopped bleeding. The only sign that there had been a dagger in his heart only a handful of moments ago was his torn shirt and the blood on the floor.

“Only the darkest of magic could make something like this possible,” a new voice said.

Jonas turned sharply to see that Ashur Cortas now stood behind them at the entrance to the inn.

“Ashur!” Cleo gasped. “You’re alive! But—what? How?”

Ashur’s dark brows raised. “More dark magic, I’m afraid.”

She spun to face Nic, whose expression remained neutral. “You knew about this?”

He nodded. “I know, it’s a shock.”

“A shock? He was dead, Nic! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was getting around to it. Thought I’d let you deal with the Taran issue first.”

“Oh, thank you,” she said, her voice pinched. “You’re so helpful, really.”

“Somehow, I get the feeling that you don’t really mean that.”

Jonas’s gaze shifted to see that Magnus’s expression was grim.

“I’m getting so damn sick of magic,” the prince muttered. “And everything else over which I have absolutely no control.”

“It’s lovely to see you again too, Prince Magnus,” Ashur said with a nod.

“So kind of you to find us, your grace,” Nic addressed Ashur, his voice without any respect. “I’d begun to think you’d grown gills and a tail and started to swim back to Kraeshia.”

“Not today, I’m afraid,” Ashur replied curtly.

“Perhaps tomorrow.”

“Perhaps.”

“Shall we tell everyone about your phoenix resurrection now or later?” Nic asked.

Ashur’s expression tensed at Nic’s acidic tone. “It seems to me, Nicolo, that there are more pressing matters at hand. I’m right, aren’t I, King Gaius?”

The attention of the group returned to the king, who was hunched over next to his mother. “Indeed you are, Prince Ashur.”

“An alliance against my sister.”

“Will that be a problem for you?”

“No. Provided you don’t kill her, that’s not a problem at all.”

“Wait,” Felix said from his position by the fireplace. “You know I was counting on killing her. Are you really going to take that away from me?”

Ashur shot Felix a stony look.

“Fine. It’s a topic we’ll save for another day,” Felix said.

“Prince Ashur, you are the rightful heir to your father’s title,” the king said. “Take it from Amara, and all of this could be over.”

“And you’re now her husband, I’ve heard. Why aren’t you by her side, guiding her decisions?”

“It’s not that simple for me anymore.”

“Nothing important is ever simple, is it?”

“The King of Blood wants us to work as a team,” Jonas said, shaking his head. “It’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. That’s not what I want.”

Gaius let out a breath of frustration. “I know very well what you want, rebel. You want me to die. Well, I assure you, I will be dead soon enough.”

“Gaius . . .” his mother hissed. “I won’t have you speaking like this. I won’t!”