“Shall we draw our swords and settle this right now?” I say darkly.

He stops, glowering. “I understand you meant to lead an army against me.”

“That was before.” I pause, wondering how much he knows. Wondering how he knows. “I did not come here to fight with you.”

“I know. That is worse. I would have preferred the army.”

“I have made no move against you,” I say.

He gives a bark of humorless laughter. “Every move you have made has been against me.”

He is so angry. I am angry, too, and regretful, but his has a different flavor to it, which I don’t quite understand. He’s so bitter, and it’s a bitterness backed by pain.

I am not sure what reaction I expected, but it was not this. “In truth, I tried to spare you all of this.”

“No. You tried to spare yourself all this. At no point did you attempt to spare me anything.”

“I left,” I snap. “I hid. I did not come back here willingly. You had me dragged back in chains.” I pause. “I have not caused the discord in your kingdom.”

He looks away, and I can see how much this weighs on him. He has always felt the burdens of his people so acutely.

This anger, this bitterness—it is not all about me. Pity washes through me.

“Rhen,” I say quietly. I shift toward him.

He flinches and staggers back a step.

The movement is so unexpected that I freeze. Only then do I realize that the tightness of his jaw, the rigidness of his body is not fury and anger.

It’s fear.

That night I knelt in his chambers, he spoke of Lilith, and I could hear the fear in his voice then, when he worried I was sworn to her. During every season, he took the brunt of her torture. The curse held us both captive, but he suffered far more than I did.

“I mean you no harm,” I say.

“Do not patronize me. You have aligned yourself with a kingdom that brutalized our people. You stood with me against them, Grey, and now you ride in here with them. Karis Luran—”

“Karis Luran is dead.”

“I know.”

“How? How do you know?”

“She was not the only one with spies.”

This surprises me. We had no spies when I was guard commander. We had no one at all.

I take another step forward, but this time he stands his ground. “You have also brutalized your people,” I say to him. My voice is low and rough. “You are losing your country.”

“I saved it once before. I will save it again.”

“Deceit will not save them this time.”

“And you will? With Syhl Shallow? You were a guardsman, Grey. An exceptional swordsman, but nothing more than a body to stand in front of royalty.” His voice has turned vicious. “Her people will not respect you. They will not respect her. Karis Luran ruled by blood and fear, and their new ruler cannot expect to hold her throne with soft-spoken words.”

“Do not speak of Lia Mara with disdain.”

“And do you not think the Grand Marshals of my cities will look on you with equal disdain? That the man who wants to be king kneels to a woman who came to my castle in the middle of the night with naïve hopes for peace?”

“I did not kneel to her, and you would do well to consider her offer.”

“I will not ally with Syhl Shallow. Not then, and not now. If that means you are my enemy, then so be it.”

His voice is loud, so I make mine very soft. “I am your brother, Rhen.”

He goes still.

“You once offered me your hand and called me a friend,” I add.

He says nothing.

I wonder if there is any way to salvage anything with him, to move forward. Perhaps there is too much history between us.

Footsteps rustle on the steps at the back of the Grand Hall. “Grey!”

Harper crosses the room in a rush, skirts swirling with her uneven steps. She is quite possibly the only person in this castle who looks pleased to see me. I think she might stride right up to me and throw her arms around my neck the way she did that first night I was brought back to Ironrose—and then Rhen really will draw his sword.

She doesn’t get a chance. Rhen catches her arm and pulls her against him. The movement isn’t harsh. It’s … distressed.

“I mean her no harm either,” I say softly.

Harper doesn’t pull away from Rhen. Instead, she rests her hand over his. Only then do I realize he’s trembling.

“A friend would have told me,” Rhen says. “A brother would have told me.”

Maybe he’s right. We’ve both made missteps here. Even when the curse began, we both made errors in judgment.

I take a step back and glance at Harper. “Your brother would like to see you before we leave.”

She swallows. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

Her eyes hold mine for the longest moment, and I can read the emotion there. She knows what demons haunt Rhen’s thoughts, and she stands at his side. Despite everything, I am relieved to know he is not alone.

“As before,” I say to her, “I could have chosen no one better, my lady.”

Her lips part. Her voice is very soft. “He’s trying to protect his people, Grey.”

“As am I.”

“You will march on my country, then,” Rhen finally says.

“Our country.” I hesitate. “And yes. In time.”

For a heartbeat of time, his expression is bleak and dejected, but then his face smooths over and his eyes are devoid of emotion.

I pull a folded parchment from my jacket and hold it out to him. The paper is sealed with wax swirled in green and black.

He makes no move to take it. “What is this?”

“A gift, Brother.”

When he still does not reach for it, Harper takes it from me. Rhen still hasn’t moved. His hand has formed a fist.

“For the good of Emberfall,” I say.

“Get out.”

I do.

EPILOGUE

RHEN

I have been turning this parchment over in my hands for hours. I am tempted to toss it into the fireplace, because mine will not be the only eyes to read it.

“I do not recall you being so indecisive, Prince Rhen.”

The voice speaks from the shadows, but I do not turn. The enchantress has been here for weeks. Taunting me. Threatening me.

I turn the parchment over in my hands again.

Harper is dining with her brother, but I would give anything for her company now.

I would give anything to reverse time to the morning Grey was brought back in chains. Before I resorted to cruelty to find the truth. Before he escaped, exposing his magic and his birthright to everyone in the courtyard.

Before Lilith appeared in my chambers with a new offer.

I glance over at the enchantress. A terrible scar runs across her neck, skin clumped and clustered where Grey’s blade tried to take her life.

I tear open the parchment.

You have 60 days, Brother.

Do not make me do this.

Do not make me do this.

The same words I said to him before the guards led him into the courtyard and chained him to the wall.

My hands are shaking again.

“If only you had been this afraid the first time,” she says, and her voice is a vicious whisper.