“My guards drew no weapon until yours did,” he says. “I said you would be unharmed, as you see. She would have been as well.”

“You deal in lies with your people, Prince Rhen.” My voice almost breaks, and I heave a breath to steady it. “I will believe nothing you say.”

He pulls a folded piece of parchment from his belt. “Would you believe your mother’s hand?”

My breath catches. The rider returned with Mother’s answer.

I rush forward and snatch it from his hand, half expecting him to hold fast, but he doesn’t. Guards hover behind him in the doorway, but I’ve already seen what they did to Sorra, and I am not stupid, despite my actions over the last day. I step back and hastily unfold the letter.

There are Mother’s words, and I’m so shocked to see them that it takes me a full moment to read at all.

In the common tongue of Emberfall, she has written:

I accept my daughter’s proposal. I will grant one month for negotiations.

Below that, in Syssalah, she adds:

Do not disappoint me, Lia Mara.

My eyes hold those words far longer than it takes me to read them.

Do not disappoint me.

I did that the instant I rode away from camp with Sorra and Parrish. There is no alliance to forge. I am his prisoner. Nothing more.

I look back at Prince Rhen.

“Your mother believed your letter,” he says.

“I wrote it in truth,” I hiss at him.

“I will have some clothing brought. Alert your guards if you have any needs.”

He pulls the door closed, then locks me inside.

CHAPTER TWELVE

GREY

I wake to a sky full of sun and a leg full of fire. A wagon rolls along underneath me, every bump proving that I’m lying on nothing more than wooden floorboards. I shift and try to roll, but my head isn’t clear. Metal rattles against wood when I move.

I inhale sharply, then force myself up on one elbow. Shackles trap my wrists and ankles. My head swims.

“Go slow. You’ve been out for hours.” A familiar man sits near the front of the wagon. Dark-brown skin, close-shorn hair. He’s heavier than he was when I met him in Washington, DC, but I won’t forget the man who saved my life once before.

“Healer,” I say in surprise, my voice a rough rasp. My jaw aches when I speak. I lift a hand to rub at my eyes, and the chains drag across my bare wrists.

“Most people just call me Noah,” he says.

They must have given me sleeping ether. My thoughts are having trouble falling into order. Six men on horseback follow the wagon, but sunlight gleams on weapons and armor and makes my head pound. An unfamiliar guardsman drives the wagon. I wince and rub at my eyes again.

Without warning, memory punches me in the gut. My eyes flash back to Noah. “Where is Tycho?” I say. “What did they do with him?”

“He’s fine. He’s asleep.” He points. “Look.”

I shift and force myself to sitting. A tight bandage encircles my thigh, and ankle chains rattle against the floorboards as I move. Tycho is curled into a ball behind me under the bench along the opposite side of the wagon, tucked as tightly as he can be into the corner. From what I can tell, he seems unharmed.

Another voice calls out, “Is he awake?”

It’s the same voice that shouted from the side of the arena. Now, faced with Noah, I can place it. Jacob. Harper’s brother. Prince Jacob to everyone in Emberfall. Heir to the throne of the imaginary Disi. Heir to nothing in reality.

He did not have a high opinion of me during the few days we knew each other. It was quite mutual. I consider the chains trapping me here and doubt that has improved.

“He’s awake,” says Noah, his tone resigned.

Jacob rides his horse alongside the wagon. His dark hair is longer, and he sits a horse far better than I remember, but he’s still clearly Harper’s brother. “You said I couldn’t stab him while he was unconscious. Can I stab him now?”

“No.”

“Come on.” His eyes are full of righteous anger. “Tell me all the places I can hit so he doesn’t die.”

I meet Jacob’s eyes. “You would stab a chained man?”

“Not usually, but for you I’d make an exception.”

“You bear such venom for me. I have never done anything to you.”

Noah snorts. Jacob’s voice is low and dangerous. “You trapped us here.”

Ah. I did do that.

Jake rides until his horse is almost against the wagon. “Besides, I’m not the only one with ‘venom’ for you. No one knows where you’ve been. Rhen has been looking for you for months. Harper has been worried you’re dead. But no. You’re here, and you’re fine. Better than fine. Now all these guardsmen are wondering why you deserted. Why you ran. Want to explain that? You tried to kill their commander in the arena.”

If I’d tried to kill him, he’d be dead, but the rest of Jacob’s words are true. I have no explanation to give. I look away.

“Talk,” says Jake. “Now.”

When I say nothing, he pulls a dagger. My head snaps around. My leg feels like I carry the weight of a forge-hot iron bar through my thigh, but even shackled, I could leap out of the wagon and get my chains around his neck before he could put that blade in me.

I have nothing to lose, and maybe he can sense it. Something in his gaze falters.

“Jake,” says Noah. His voice is resigned. “Just … put it away.”

Jacob swears and shoves the dagger back into its sheath.

His words sit heavy in my thoughts, though. In truth, I regret trapping him here. I regret abandoning my duties with the Royal Guard. I regret what I know about my birthright and where that leaves me with Prince Rhen.

I look up at the sky. The air is full of summer scents of cut hay and ripening fruit. We’ve moved far beyond Rillisk if we’re passing through farmland. I see little traffic on the road, so it must still be early. Worwick will be losing his mind to have me and Tycho taken away at the same time.

The wagon’s creaks and rattles echo in the quiet morning air. There should be a guardsman riding ahead as lookout, but I see no one in the distance. The guardsmen and horses look weary. “Have we been traveling all night?”

“Yes. We’re going back to Ironrose so you can take us home, and then Rhen can do whatever he wants with you.”

Those words settle in my chest and take up a death grip on my heart. “Ironrose is two days’ ride from Rillisk,” I say. “Do you intend to drive your guardsmen to exhaustion to save a matter of hours?”

He sets his jaw. “Dustan said we can make it back after sundown. I’m not driving anyone to exhaustion.”

“You’ve been riding all night and you intend to ride through the day.” I glance at the guardsmen trailing the wagon. “With men who’ve likely been at your service since daybreak yesterday?”

Indecision flickers in his eyes, but he scowls. “You’re not in charge anymore. I didn’t trust you before, and finding out you’ve been hiding all this time doesn’t make me trust you now. So sit there and shut up or I’ll have one of the guardsmen gag you.”

I shift to sit against the wagon railing and say nothing more.