The words are spoken with such certainty that I feel them at my core. Season after season I never truly feared Lilith, though I hated her.

For the first time, I fear what Rhen could do.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

LIA MARA

An uncomfortable quiet has fallen over the castle. Torches in the courtyard have been lit, the cobblestones freshly swept. I do not know what Prince Rhen has planned for his former guard commander, but the guards who bring me dinner are subdued and preoccupied, all but tossing the tray on the hearth before they can leave.

“What is going on?” I ask.

One of the men ignores me, which is typical, but the other glances at the window before pulling the door closed. “Wait till full dark. You’ll have a good show.”

Then he’s gone, and I’m locked inside as before.

I return to the window, but nothing down below gives a clue as to what’s planned. A crowd is beginning to form. Morbid fascination at work. Perhaps it’s another measure of the ways I am not equal to my sister, but I have no stomach for torture. Mother is no stranger to using violence to get her way, but I am rarely forced to observe it. I have no desire to watch Prince Rhen carry it out either. I’ve seen enough of his cruelty.

I sit on the hearth and pick through the food they’ve brought—shellfish again. It turns my stomach. I want to dump it out the window on the crowd below.

My fire has fallen to embers, and I do nothing to restore it. On the other side of the brick barrier, the room is silent. Not empty—I can see the flicker of shadows through the tiny gap I’ve left.

Grey is in there. I can sense his apprehension from here. I have so many questions about him, but so few answers.

He is the rightful heir. He should not be afraid. There is much unrest in Emberfall because of his very existence. Does he not think he would find support among the people? Why does he not wish to claim the throne? Why yield to a man who allowed his people to fall into poverty and ruin?

Light shifts through the tiny gap, and I can hear the low rumble of voices next door. Three or four guards, at least. They must be worried he will try to run. The tension is so potent I can feel my own heartbeat in my throat.

But once he’s gone, the guards will be too. There will be no reason to guard an empty room.

You’ll have a good show.

If I can feel the foreboding in the castle, it is likely twice as strong in the people who know what’s going on.

Grey will be in the courtyard with his guards. His room will be empty and unguarded. Most likely everyone will be in the courtyard or at the windows, watching. My own guards have already delivered my evening meal, and I know from experience they will not look in on me until the guard shift changes near midnight. I’ve proven myself to be harmless, so they pay me little mind.

I am used to being underestimated.

For once, it’s going to work in my favor.

CHAPTER TWENTY

GREY

Giving me a day of liberty seemed like an unusual choice last night. A luxury afforded in friendship.

I see now that it was a calculated move to demonstrate what I have to lose.

As sunset draws near and heavy clouds roll across the sky, I begin to seek a path to escape. My thoughts spin, but each path seems futile. Dustan must notice my restless watchfulness, because four guards now trail me everywhere I go.

I don’t know what Rhen will do when I refuse to yield. He cannot torture me forever.

Then again, perhaps he can. I definitely cannot endure it forever.

The thought sends an icy breath of fear down my spine. When Lilith tortured us, we knew our bodies would eventually give out and the season would begin again. Even if her cruelty had no limit, we did.

A knock sounds at my door at the very instant the sun vanishes beyond the forest. I stand frozen between the hearth and the window. Every fiber of my body wants me to run.

There is nowhere to go.

I think of that bracelet stashed inside my mattress in the loft at Worwick’s. I close my eyes and imagine the other side. I imagine passing through the veil. I imagine Harper’s world, the garish lights and loud machines. I wish for magic. Hope for it. Pray for it.

A knock sounds again.

My eyes open. Nothing has changed.

Dustan moves forward to take hold of the door handle. Rhen stands outside, flanked by six guards.

“Do you yield?” he says.

I wish I could run. I wish I could fly. I wish I could reverse time and undo the curse that bound us to this castle, that bound us together and gave us this shared history that’s impossible to shake while so much is at risk.

“No,” I say.

“Take him.”

The guardsmen approach with the chains. I should run. It would be futile, but every fiber of my being is screaming at me to fight. Maybe it’s Rhen’s presence that keeps me still. Maybe it’s my memories of being the obedient guardsman. Maybe it’s the broken look in Rhen’s expression that makes me wonder if he’ll go through with any of this at all. He keeps waiting for me to yield. Maybe I’m waiting for him to.

Then the shackles are locked in place, and I don’t have a chance to do anything.

Few people line the dim hallways as we walk. I expect to be taken to the dungeon, but we make the turn down the staircase to the Great Hall, then head for the heavy glass doors that lead to the courtyard where I spent the morning with Harper and Tycho.

A guardsman pushes the door wide, revealing the torchlit space beyond. A small crowd has gathered.

He’s not going to yield.

My feet stop, almost of their own accord. The guards begin to drag me forward. My heartbeat roars in my ears.

“Stop.” Rhen’s voice. The guardsmen halt.

He turns and walks right up to me.

“Grey,” he says softly. “Do not make me do this.”

I cannot look at him. Each breath that fights its way out of my throat is fractured and broken.

I war with the same thoughts I’ve had for days: If I tell him the truth, he’ll kill me. He will have to kill me. I’ve seen what he’s done to protect Emberfall—to protect his throne.

If I say nothing … he’s going to make me wish I was dead.

When I was a guardsman, I would have laid down my life for him, so it seems like this choice should be easy, but it’s not. This is not stepping in front of a blade.

There is no blade. I am no threat.

When I say nothing, he turns away.

They drag me through the doorway. My eyes rake over the gathered crowd. No Harper. No Tycho.

Good. I can endure this crowd. I can endure this torment. Tycho is safe somewhere, hopefully guarded by Harper’s kindness. Hopefully being sent home with the bag of coins Rhen promised.

Despite the dozens who have gathered in the courtyard, the space is nearly silent. A horse kicks against the wall of the nearby stable. My breathing seems to echo.

I have no idea what Rhen intends, but the guards tow me right up to the castle wall, then reach high to affix my chains to a hook suspended there.

A sudden stillness overtakes me. It’s a whipping hook. There are others along the wall, but none have been used since Rhen’s father sat on the throne. If a member of the castle staff wronged King Broderick in some way, he’d have them flogged out here for all to see. He’d leave them hanging here, too, for hours, until insects would gather on the wounds.