I do not know how soon I will return.

I do not know if I will return.

I once spent an eternity dreading every passing minute, and now I wish for more time.

More than anything, however, I wish I could free you. I long for your strength and compassion to be at my side. All your mother and sister seem to offer is vicious brutality.

That has its place, of course, but perhaps not as much as I once thought.

Yours,

Grey

I take a long breath and blow it out. My chest aches.

I look up at Iisak. “He’s going to attack Rhen.”

“Yes.”

I swallow and set down the letter. I knew that’s what lay at the end of this road … but I do not like it.

I see no way out of it. All my studies, all my reading and thinking, all my cleverness and compassion, and the result is the same.

“He’s wrong,” I say.

“Wrong, Princess?”

“He’s going to war.” My voice is hollow. “He needs all the vicious brutality he can get.”

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

GREY

My hours have never been so full, my sleep never so sound. My mornings are full of lessons: in Syssalah, in court politics, in the customs and traditions of Syhl Shallow. Nolla Verin is often at my side, but she never feels like a companion, and instead feels like a spy waiting to report on my progress to her mother. I keep my guard up—and she does as well.

I share the midday meal each day with Karis Luran. Jake never leaves my side. When we dine, I am coolly distant, resentful of the way she’d so swiftly manipulated me: into proving my magic, into working against Rhen. Resentful of the way she’s hidden her daughter away after such a brutal display of vengeance against that guard.

“Every time she asks for wine,” Jake murmurs to me at one of our luncheons, “I expect her to cut some poor guy’s wrist open over a glass.”

Indeed. I do not like her. I do not trust her.

This is no secret. “You do not like me, Young Prince,” she says to me on the third day.

“Do I need to?”

“No.” She smiles. “To desire adoration is to make yourself vulnerable.”

I definitely do not adore her. Her subjects seem to, however. Her cruelty is seen as decisive and just.

And despite my resentment, she seems to be a fair ruler. She cares for her subjects. The people of Syhl Shallow are well fed and educated. Two years of military service are required of each family—leading to a sense of unity that takes me by surprise each time I join Talfor and Cortney in the city.

Her castle coffers may be running dry without the tithe once paid by Rhen’s father, but Karis Luran does what she can to support her people, and despite her brutality, they seem to love her for it. It makes me wonder how Rhen’s treatment of me was received. It makes me wonder how his subjects will respond when he sends soldiers to claim back Silvermoon Harbor.

As always, I wish my thoughts carried no concern for Rhen.

My afternoons are full of drills with the guards and soldiers as we prepare to leave—and they’re the only time I can relax, because I have a sword in my hand. They fight differently here, and I enjoy the challenge of learning their methods and weaponry. I don’t enjoy the challenge of the dinner hour, because every evening meal includes people of importance: generals and military leaders, as well as leaders of the Royal Houses. I am not Rhen, able to influence people with hardly more than the right glance, but it seems my steady refusal to be manipulated has worked in greater favor. No one challenges me to demonstrate magic. No one challenges me at all.

No one except Iisak, who all but drags me out of my chambers after dark, insisting that we must strengthen my magic. My skills seem so small and minor compared to what I know Lilith could do. She cursed me and Rhen, trapping us in an endless cycle of her magic. I can barely affect more than one person at a time.

On the night before we are to leave, we are on the deserted training fields in the moonlight. Iisak insists I can feed my magic into my swordplay for accuracy and damage—and once I learn that, I can potentially do the same for my soldiers.

It’s not going well. Jake and Tycho have volunteered to help, but I need no magic to guide my sword to best them. When we break apart for the tenth time, they’re exhausted. Sweat glints in the moonlight. I glance up at the palace. Sometimes I can catch a glimpse of Lia Mara, but tonight her room is dark, and no shadow fills her window.

Noah has been watching from the sidelines. “Maybe you should tie an arm behind your back,” he says.

I push damp hair out of my eyes and sigh. Our time to prepare grows short. I am hurtling toward an uncertain end, but I have no idea how to stop it.

“Perhaps you need a new opponent,” calls Nolla Verin.

I turn and see her striding out of the darkness, guards at her back. Instead of the robes that typically adorn her small frame, tonight she wears black leather armor trimmed with silver, her dark hair braided back with green ribbon. A sword and a dagger are already in her hands.

I raise my eyebrows. “Are you offering?”

“Yes.” She lifts her blade and attacks.

I’m not completely unprepared, but I’m barely able to block before she spins and parries. I try to hook her dagger to pull it from her hand, but she ducks and whirls to regroup. I watch her movement, looking for weakness.

She gives me no time. Her next attack is brutal and swift.

My response is, too.

She breaks away again, her breathing a little quick. She smiles, and it’s fierce. “If you draw blood, my mother will be displeased.”

“Then you should better guard your left side.” This time I attack first, putting my full strength behind it. Her sword is lighter, and she yields almost at once, but she moves quicker than thought. Her attacks seem to come from everywhere at once, and she’s relentless. I remember Lia Mara praising her sister’s skills—and she wasn’t wrong.

In another place and time, I’d be openly admiring, but I’m tired, and this feels like more posturing. Much like the morning we raced through the city, I see no path to victory here. She’s right—Karis Luran would likely have my head if I harmed her heir, alliance or not.

Her sword almost gets past my guard, and she nearly cuts a stripe across my arm.

“What was that you said about left sides?” she says.

She’s right, so I smile. “Noted.”

“I thought you were to be using magic to assist your swordplay. I hoped I would get a demonstration.”

“So far I haven’t needed assistance.”

“Try to kill him,” Jake calls. “That’s usually what works.”

Nolla Verin’s eyes narrow, and she leaps forward. She’s somehow even quicker. Our blades have become a blur in the moonlight. Every time she strikes, there’s more strength behind it, and when she slices open my shoulder in an attempt to disarm me, I realize she really might be trying to kill me.

I try to hook her sword, but she’s a fraction of a second too quick, and it leaves my side open. She dives in, aiming for my ribs. Those stars wait in my blood, fueled by the fight and the damage, waiting for my command. I try to send them into my weapons, hoping they’ll quicken my defense and stop her.

Nolla Verin goes flying back, landing so hard in the dust of the training grounds that she skids the final distance.