He’s able to feint and thrust and parry, but his movement is lumbering, and I’m not putting up much resistance.

Still, he offers a grim smile. “I might not win, but I can fight.”

I swing my blade hard, and he’s barely able to block the blow. While he’s trying to recover, I twist my weapon, hook the hilt of his, and disarm him. The point of my sword sits at his neck before he can draw breath.

“You’ll be disarmed in seconds,” I say. “That’s not much of a fight.”

He’s blinking at me. A hand presses to his side, but he says, “You’ve been practicing.”

I lower my weapon. “Here and there.”

He winces and eases back onto the stool, then sighs. Drums echo from the arena, followed by a loud cry from the stands. Worwick will be rallying the audience, opening the evening’s events.

I need to get back to the arena. In this crowd, Tycho will be running like crazy to get the horses and riders out safely.

I’m stuck studying Journ, who’s dragging a damp wrist across his forehead. He gives another heavy sigh, and it’s full of pain. If it were Kantor, I’d let him go into the arena and take his chances.

“Why do you need the coins tonight?” I ask.

“We’ll have another child by year’s end.” He shifts and grimaces, but there’s no way to make broken ribs comfortable. “Another mouth to feed—as if it’s not hard enough to fill the ones I have.”

This does not feel like a moment to offer congratulations. “I didn’t know.”

He draws a breath that cuts short at the end, then winces and pushes himself to his feet. “We all have our burdens.” He reaches for a sword belt from the wall.

In the stadium, a horse neighs, hooves pummel the ground, and the crowd cheers.

I bite at the inside of my lip, thinking of Riley.

I owe Journ nothing. I owe Worwick nothing.

Across the room, the scraver’s cage rattles as it shifts and stretches. Its coal-black eyes find mine, and it hisses. The sound is full of censure, but that’s probably all inside my head.

We all have our burdens.

I did nothing this afternoon. I can do something now.

“Remove your armor,” I tell him.

He utters a rough laugh that ends on a wheeze. “If I get this off, I won’t get it back on.”

“I need to help Tycho,” I say. “If you can’t bend to get your greaves off, I’ll be back in half an hour.”

“What are you going on about?”

“You can’t fight, Journ.”

He closes his eyes. “Hawk. I must—”

“You misunderstand,” I say. “You cannot fight. I can. Now remove your armor. I’ll be back.”

CHAPTER NINE

LIA MARA

I don’t expect fanfare for our arrival.

I don’t expect to be surrounded in the woods and taken prisoner, either.

Guards weren’t stationed this far from the castle grounds when we arrived earlier, but maybe they widen their patrols after dark. Or more likely, maybe Rhen doesn’t trust my mother to such an extent that he expected an attack.

“This is an outrage,” I say to Prince Rhen’s guards, who are binding my hands. “I have told you that we come here to discuss a means to peace with your people.”

Darkness blankets the woods and hides the expressions of most of the men surrounding us, but I can see them similarly binding Sorra and Parrish as well. They say nothing.

The guard behind me jerks tight at the rope, and I suck in a breath. “There are only three of us. I am unarmed. Surely you do not think we intended to attack the castle like this.”

“Be cautious, Lia Mara,” Sorra says quietly in Syssalah.

At the sound of her voice, one of the guards pulls a blade, but another man says, “No. Leave them unharmed. We will let the prince decide.”

The man who spoke steps through the darkness to stop before me. Many of the other guards and soldiers carry longbows, but he has only a sword hanging at his hip. He’s slightly older, with dark hair. He’s also missing an arm.

“I’ve seen the kind of peace your people wish to bring to Emberfall,” he says. The look in his eyes is unkind, bordering on vengeful.

I glance at his missing arm again and wonder if soldiers from Syhl Shallow caused the injury. “Our armies have withdrawn,” I say. “I cannot undo what has happened to you, but I can attempt to forge a new path forward.”

He grunts and turns away. A hand gives me a push between my shoulder blades, and I stride forward.

We’re taken into the castle. In the daylight, the cream-colored bricks made the building look warm and welcoming, but now, in the darkness of night, the castle stands tall and foreboding. The main doors creak open, leading to a massive grand entranceway lined with velvet floor coverings, and dark wooden walls hung with tapestries in every color. The ceiling stretches high overhead, an unlit chandelier strung above us. During the day it must be a spectacle of wealth and privilege that rivals my own palace home, but just now, the shadowed corners and echoing space are unnerving.

“You will wait here,” says the one-armed man. He strides across the floor and up the wide staircase along the opposing wall.

We’ve been gone for a while now. I wonder if the other guards have begun to wonder at our disappearance. After what happened in the courtyard this afternoon, I do not know if Mother would dare to come after us.

The longer we stand here, the more I begin to wonder at my actions.

I think of the daughter of the trapper, crouched under her father.

I think of the one-armed man who led us into the castle.

I think of the anger in his voice and the fear in the eyes of the girl hiding in the woods.

There are people beyond these negotiations. People whose lives will be affected by an alliance or a war or a stroke of a quill against parchment. My sister has been named heir, but she failed this afternoon.

I have one chance to make this right.

When the prince appears at the top of the staircase, I expect surprise or anger or some flash of emotion on his face, but his expression is cool and guarded, just as it was earlier. His attire is more casual, which makes me think we interrupted his sleep. The princess is not with him.

He does not hurry down the stairs but instead studies me as he descends.

I do my best to stand tall and look confident, which is more of a challenge than I expected, especially with my hands bound at the small of my back.

The prince comes to a stop five feet in front of me, and I do not flinch from the scrutiny in his gaze.

Finally, he says, “When Jamison mentioned your intent to discuss peace, you are not the sister I expected.”

Of course I’m not. “I have not been named heir, but I am still a daughter of the queen.”

He considers this for a moment. “If you truly wish for peace, why did you not speak up during your visit? Why attempt to sneak onto the grounds of Ironrose well after dark?” He glances at my guards. “With the bare minimum of protection, no less.”

I all but feel Sorra and Parrish bristle behind me.

“Do I need protection?” I say to the prince. “You did not take action against us today, though you could have.”

“Your mother is no fool,” he says. “If I had harmed any of you, vengeance would have been swift and assured, I have no doubt.”