Regardless, I keep my silence, because the tension here is thick and uncertain. Tycho hangs near me, or, to my surprise, near the scraver. Iisak has taken a place near one of the narrow windows, and the guards give him a wide berth. They watch us closely, though, more so once Lia Mara is escorted to a separate area. I remind myself that I once watched Karis Luran and her people with equal scrutiny, my own blade ever ready.

Eventually, food is brought, and we’re granted a reprieve. The guards leave us alone, a heavy door falling into place.

Jake’s eyes find mine. “Do you think we’re locked in?”

“If not, there are guards waiting on the other side of the door.”

Noah is the first to approach the food. The platter holds fruits and cheese, along with a wide slab of bread. He tears a small piece free but plays with it instead of sliding it into his mouth. “This feels like a holding cell.” At my raised eyebrows, he adds, “Where they’d hold you before putting you in jail. In prison.”

“Prison?” echoes Tycho.

“They won’t put anyone in prison,” I say, though I’m not entirely sure. Lia Mara made many assurances about her mother—but she also said her mother did not respect her. Karis Luran could toss us in a prison cell and negotiate with Rhen for my life—and Jake’s too, as Harper’s brother.

My eyes flick to the window. It’s too narrow to fit through, though the misting rain has no trouble. The room is damp and cold and very much like a cell. Tycho pulls his arms more tightly against his body.

“You’ll be all right,” I say to him.

He meets my eyes, then nods.

Iisak uncurls from where he lounged against the wall. His wings are pinned in tightly, the only sign of his own tension. He selects an apple from the pile of fruit on the table and brings it back to Tycho. “Here,” he says gently. “Eat, boy.”

Jake watches this, then moves closer to me, keeping his voice down. “Does it bother you that they took Lia Mara?”

“She is Karis Luran’s daughter. She is likely being questioned before we will be allowed to leave.”

If we are allowed to leave.

The door swings open, and Captain Sen Domo enters. The stern expression has not left his face. I long for my sword. For anything.

He offers me a nod. “Your Highness. We will escort you to the palace. The queen is prepared to extend every hospitality to you.”

This feels too easy. “And my people?”

His eyebrows flicker as if he’s surprised by the question. “Why, yes, of course.” His gaze drifts past me. “With the exception of your … creature. The queen will see him separately.”

Tycho takes a step back. “No.”

The scraver maintains his position by the wall. “Do not trouble yourself,” he says. “They will not lay a hand on me.” A low growl slides out with the words. “Is that not so, Captain?”

The captain’s lip curls in distaste, but he says, “That is so.” He looks back at me. “Your Highness? A carriage awaits.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

LIA MARA

Clanna Sun, Mother’s chief adviser, arrives at the guard station from the palace so quickly I think she must have galloped the entire way. She is an older woman, a former army general, with thick gray hair and a permanent limp from an old injury. Her face, however, almost always bears a tight smile, as if she’s seen the worst things the world could offer, and she chooses to be in a good mood anyway. She has always treated me with dignity and respect, and I have always enjoyed our studies together.

She seems overjoyed to see me. Her face breaks into a wide smile, and she draws me into an embrace. “My dear, you have surprised everyone.”

The words are a compliment and an insult woven together so neatly that I doubt Clanna Sun has realized the implication. She all but hauls me out of the guard station and into a carriage.

“But—but the others—” I protest.

“They are being well cared for. Your mother has insisted upon it.” Clanna Sun gazes at me with something like bemused wonder on her face. “You have brought us the heir to Emberfall, Lia Mara. However did you do it?”

Warmth crawls up my cheeks, but I straighten my back. My heart is thrilling to see the glimpses of home outside the carriage window. “Prince Rhen tried to kill him. I offered Grey—” I catch myself. “I offered Prince Grey sanctuary beyond our borders, and he quickly agreed.”

“As well he should.” She clasps her hands beneath her chin. “Ah, yes. Lia Mara, this is cause for celebration indeed. When we heard of your little plan to attempt peace negotiations, we were all worried you’d never be heard from again.”

That overshadows any praise. “Well, you did.”

“Yes, yes.” Her eyes glitter. “Tell me: Is Prince Grey prepared to make an assault on the throne? To claim it for himself?”

An assault on the throne. I swallow. “I believe it is a bit early to make assumptions.”

She frowns but quickly covers it up. She fills the rest of the carriage ride with questions about Emberfall, about Grey, about that evil imposter sitting on the throne.

I long for the quiet escape of my room. My hair has dried into clumps, and I am desperate for fresh clothes. The warm bath in Blind Hollow seems like it happened a month ago.

When we reach the Crystal Palace, a wave of homesickness hits me so hard that I want to fling the carriage door open and sprint up the steps. The thousand windows of the front wall glimmer even in the cloudiest weather, and the two front fountains splash merrily. I can be calm and demure, befitting my station, but I cannot keep the broad smile off my face.

But then I see Nolla Verin standing at the top of the steps, her hands pressed together under her chin, and I throw the carriage door open to run.

Her ebony hair is long and unbound, reaching her waist, and her eyes are wide with relief and excitement. She looks younger than I remember, like a young maiden, not like the princess set to inherit our mother’s throne.

The instant I get to the top, I wrap her up in my arms and swing her around.

“I missed you so very much,” I say.

“And I you.” Her slim arms are tight on my shoulders, and even when I stop swinging her, she holds tight. “After our spies reported what happened to Sorra … then, that you had escaped … I was so worried, Sister.”

I draw back. “You know about Sorra?”

“Of course.”

I glance up at the glass front of the palace, searching the faces of the guards stationed there. Many are familiar, but Parrish is not among them.

“Does Parrish know?” I ask quietly.

Her eyebrows knit together into a frown. “I am certain all the guardsmen know.”

“I must see him. I must explain—”

“You have been gone for weeks, and you wish to see a guardsman? No, Sister. Do not be foolish.” She pulls at my ragged clothing and makes a face. “Indeed the first person you should seek is a clothier.” Her nose wrinkles. “Or perhaps a bucket of hot water.”

I swat her on the arm, but she catches my hand and tows me toward the castle. Footmen draw the large crystal doors open as we advance.

“Come,” she says. “You are the hero of the day, but we have much to accomplish.”