That had been the doctor’s theory, though how I’d survived the poison in the first place remained a mystery. I crossed my arms behind my back, hating the way he looked at my skin, like it was one of his inventions.

He reached for a small silver knife and a dish. “I’ll need to collect some of your blood to test my theory.”

I darted for the door, but Ceren held the keys up in front of him. “You’ll leave this room when I say you can.”

I wanted to be brave, but my voice cracked as I leaned forward, hoping to reach the coral knife hidden beneath my skirts. “I’m begging you not to do this, Ceren.”

He strode forward with his silver knife, and though the mountain may have weakened him, I knew in my heart that he was still much stronger than me. “Hold still, my lady,” he crooned, taking me by the throat. “This is going to hurt.”

* * *

Ceren filled five bowls with my blood that night. I gave up screaming after the first three gashes. By the time he was finished, I was too weak to struggle any longer.

We were both covered in blood when Talin finally burst through the door, leaving it hanging on one hinge. I’d heard him pounding and yelling throughout the process, but his voice had seemed as far away as Varenia.

“What did you do to her?” Talin demanded as Ceren scooped me up and shouldered past his brother into the corridor.

“I needed samples of her blood.” He clucked his tongue at me. “She put up such a fuss.”

Talin took in the bloody streaks and half-healed wounds as Ceren carried me past. He followed us all the way to my rooms, where Ceren laid me down on my bed with surprising care.

“Come along, brother. My intended needs her rest.”

Talin’s eyes hadn’t left mine. “I’m staying with her.”

Ceren scoffed. “That’s out of the question.”

Talin stepped forward until they were chest to chest, closer than I’d ever seen them. The contrast was startling. Talin was a finger or two shorter than Ceren, but his shoulders were broader, his muscles more developed. All of Ceren’s strength came from his singular devotion to one thing: power. He had no other weakness, nothing else he cared about enough to distract him.

And Talin? What did he care about? My eyes were glazing as I slipped in and out of consciousness.

“Whatever happened between the two of you on the journey is over,” Ceren said. “Zadie is mine.”

“You don’t love her, Ceren.”

He tossed his hair aside with a wry laugh. “Who said anything about love? If that girl’s blood can be passed on to our children, just imagine what it will mean for Ilara.”

“You’re a monster,” Talin hissed.

“And you’re a fool. Now leave. The girl needs her rest, and I’ll likely need more of her blood tomorrow.”

Talin moved in front of the bed, blocking Ceren. “You won’t touch her again.”

Ceren sneered. “Save your ire, brother. You’ll need it to bring down the man who attacked Zadie.”

“What are you talking about?” Talin demanded.

“We can’t let the woman king get away with something as heinous as attempting to assassinate the future queen. You leave tonight. Don’t come back until you’ve found the assassin.” Ceren turned to a guard outside my door. Where had he come from? “You, see to it that my bride doesn’t leave under any circumstances.”

The rage on Talin’s face was the last thing I saw before I surrendered to the darkness.

* * *

I woke sometime in the middle of the night. My wounds had healed and the throbbing in my head was gone, but I was weak and thirsty. I changed into my riding breeches and one of my old tunics, then tucked the coral knife into the top of one leather boot, pausing every few minutes to rest. When I was dressed, I folded up a crude, hand-drawn map of the castle Ebb had made for me after I told her I got lost and clasped the pearl necklace from my parents around my neck. Finally, I pulled Sami’s green cloak over my shoulders.

If I could make it to Old Castle, I could steal a horse and maybe, somehow, make it to the port. I would barter the pearls to a trader from the floating market for a ride to Varenia.

I knew my odds of escape were miniscule, but whether or not I made it home, there was nothing worse Ceren could do to the Varenians than what he would do once he learned about the blood coral and its connection to my people. And by staying here, I was just providing him with more blood for his experiments. At least this way I could warn them.

I went to my door and cracked it open as quietly as I could. The guard was awake, probably on high alert thanks to Ceren. I hefted the heavy porcelain ewer from my washstand in my right hand, hidden by the door, and began to weep.

The guard turned. “Milady? Are you hurt?”

“I’m so sorry to disturb you,” I sobbed. “My arm is bleeding again, and I can’t stop it.”

“I’ll fetch Prince Ceren,” he began, already taking a step toward the hall.

“No,” I said, pretending to cry harder. “I’m afraid I’m going to faint.”

He glanced over his shoulder once, clearly worried about disobeying Ceren, but turned back to me. “Don’t worry, milady. I’ll help you.”

I’d never intentionally hurt anyone before, and this was a man who was offering to help me. But I couldn’t let one guard stand between Varenia and me. As soon as he was through the door, I brought the ewer crashing down on the back of his head. He grunted as he slumped forward, and I hit him again for good measure.

Once I was sure he was unconscious, I dropped the ewer and slid into the hallway. There would be other guards on the way to the servants’ entrance in the base of the mountain, and I told myself I was prepared to use my knife if I had to. Fortunately, it was the night of the new moon, and the lanterns were so dim I could barely see. If I was careful, I might be able to make it through the corridors undetected.

I didn’t have time for detours, but I was fortunate that the portrait gallery was on my way. I wanted to say goodbye to Zadie, just in case I didn’t make it back to Varenia. The possibility was more real than I wanted to admit. The guard at the entrance was asleep, and I skirted past him, pausing just long enough to press my fingers to my lips, then onto Zadie’s perfect painted mouth. The guard on the other end of the gallery was slumped against the wall. I noted the jug near his feet and thanked the gods for potent Ilarean wine.

I moved closer, my back pressed to the wall. The knife was a last resort. One cut with the coral blade would be lethal, and in my heart, I knew I didn’t want the weight of a man’s life on my conscience. As I inched nearer to the guard, I made a deliberate effort to slow my breathing and heart rate, the way I would before a dive. I needed my wits about me now.