“Wait,” says Grey.

Jamison turns. “Yes?”

“You saluted me.” Grey frowns, seeming disquieted. “You were not in the Royal Guard.”

“The King’s Army. Until I lost my arm defending Willminton last year.” Jamison looks abashed. “Forgive me. Old habits die hard.”

“What was your rank?”

“Lieutenant.”

“Can you still hold a sword?”

“I can do more than hold one.”

Grey nods. “When you return at sundown, come find me.”

“Yes, sir.” Jamison hesitates, then says, “Why?”

“Because I have need for a lieutenant.”

The man starts to laugh, but Grey’s expression hasn’t changed, and he quickly sobers. “Yes, sir.” He offers another salute, then climbs onto his wagon and urges his horses forward.

Once he’s out of earshot, Rhen says, “Commander, that man is missing an arm.”

“Duly noted.” Grey picks up his sword belt from the marble steps and buckles it into place.

“What’s Willminton?” I say.

“One of the northern border cities.” Grey glances at Rhen. “If he lost an arm defending the city, he may have information on Karis Luran’s army.”

“I considered that.” Rhen is staring at him. “I am not sure that qualifies him to act as your lieutenant.”

“I did not offer him the position. I simply made it known. You asked me to assemble a passable contingent of guards—”

“Yes. Passable. If a missing arm would keep him out of the army, it would certainly keep him out of the Royal Guard.”

“He is experienced.” Grey pauses. “That carries weight with me. I would like to offer him the opportunity to try.”

“It is essential that we appear united and strong—”

“Hire him,” I say.

Rhen snaps his head around. “What did you say?”

“I said, hire him.” I swallow, but refuse to look away from him. “Or give him a fair trial at least. I don’t care if he has one arm. I trust Grey’s judgment. Just like you said you do.”

He sighs and turns to look at me. “My lady, please. You do not know—”

“Don’t patronize me,” I say. “Is this an alliance or not?”

That draws him up short. He studies me, then inhales to speak.

I take a step closer. “Am I a princess or not?”

His eyes narrow. I can practically see the wheels turning in that strategic little head of his.

I turn to look at Grey before my nerves can get the best of me. “If you think Jamison is suitable, test him. If he passes, hire him. That is my order, Commander.”

I wait for his eyes to flick to Rhen, for him to wait for an order from his prince.

He doesn’t. His eyes never leave mine. “Yes, my lady.”

I turn and stalk up the marble steps into the castle.

Adrenaline chases through my veins at a rapid clip, and I’m worried I’m going to collapse into giggles or hysterics or have a full-on nervous breakdown. I hurry along as quickly as I can, heading for the staircase that will lead me to my room. Arabella’s room. Whatever.

A hand catches my arm and turns me around.

Rhen. His touch is gentle, but firm. He all but pins me against the banister, and his expression is a combination of irritation and amusement. “What are you doing?”

I feel a little breathless again. “Going to my room. I need to change out of these clothes.”

His eyes search mine. “Are you playing with me?”

“I’m not sure how sweaty, day-old clothes could be a game.” I move to slip away from him.

He puts a hand on the railing, trapping me there. “Do you think me inflexible, my lady?”

It’s not a question I was expecting, and his closeness combined with all this adrenaline has my heart pounding. “Why?”

“Because I sense that you feel every move you make must be an act of aggression. If you truly had an army at your disposal, I would be worried.” His voice is light, almost soft, but the words carry weight.

I study him. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You act as if you must take before I can give.” Rhen shakes his head slightly. “You need not countermand me with Grey.” He looks almost disappointed. “As with yesterday, when you secreted the food. You need not hide your motives if there is something you want.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“My lady. Harper. Princess,” he says pointedly. “How is it you are not understanding?”

“Understanding what?”

Rhen puts his hands on my arms, and even through my sweater, I feel his strength. Goose bumps spring up along my skin.

He leans in a bit. “Whether the curse breaks or not, you are willing to help my people. I am the Crown Prince of Emberfall. If there is something within my power to give you, all you must do is ask.”

I stare up at him. My lips part, but no sound comes out.

He lets me go. “Forgive me. I am denying you your rest.”

I still don’t know what to say.

While I’m standing there trying to figure it out, he moves away, strides across the grand foyer, and heads out into the sunlight.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

RHEN

There are children in the castle.

They are loud.

And seemingly everywhere at once. They’re delighted by the music that fills the halls, awed by the candies and pastries that appeared with the late-afternoon tea. Freya seemed frightened at first, but eventually became charmed as well, her eyes wide as she tried to keep the children in order.

I didn’t think I would mind, but their ringing laughter proved to be too much of a reminder of my life before, and I sought the relative silence of the training arena, where Grey spars with Jamison. The only thing ringing here is steel on steel.

Sweat slicks Jamison’s hair and his breathing is heavy, but he has been holding his own. I expected his missing arm to affect his balance, but he seems to have learned to compensate. He fights like a soldier, aggressive and lethal on offense. Soldiers in the King’s Army are trained to kill expediently. The Royal Guard is—was—trained to disarm and disable first. It’s making for an interesting match.

Grey went easy at the start, but there’s no restraint now. When Jamison falls back, Grey takes advantage, driving forward to hook the soldier’s sword with the hilt of his own. The weapon jerks out of Jamison’s hand. I expect that to be the end of it, but the soldier is quick. He snatches his dagger to block Grey’s next attack.

Grey raises a hand to call a stop. He nods at the blade on the ground. “Again.”

They’ve been at this for over an hour. Jamison’s labored breathing fills the empty arena, but he nods and fetches his sword.

Lilith’s voice speaks from the shadows behind me. “Prince Rhen. I see you have found a new toy for Commander Grey. He must be so pleased.”

I’m never truly surprised when she chooses to show herself—especially not now, when I’ve dared to allow myself the smallest bit of hope.

I need to play this very carefully.

“And there are children in the castle.” Lilith claps her hands lightly. “Such fun.”

I turn. She stands in the darkness, barely visible aside from the spark of light on her eyes.

“You said you would not interfere,” I say to her.

“I am not interfering. I am observing.”

“You are interfering with me.”

Her eyebrows go up, but then she smiles mockingly. “Your Highness, you do not seem yourself today. Have you not yet found true love with that tatterdemalion?”

“You know I have not. If this is my last season, I will not see Emberfall burned to the ground before there is nothing I can do about it.”

“And what of your dear, sweet, broken girl?” Lilith presses a finger to her lips and her voice drops to a whisper. “Oh, Your Highness, has she already fallen for Commander Grey? Tell me, do you find it an odd bit of irony, your seasoned fighter matched with a girl who can barely walk with grace?”

“No.” My voice grows bored. “She has asked me to secure a meeting with you so that she may make her case for an early return home.”

“A meeting with me?”

Lilith’s voice is hushed, and I cannot tell whether this impresses her—or angers her. If it’s anger, I need to draw her ire. Better to have it directed at me than at Harper. “Yes.” I lift a shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “I could see no reason to keep you a secret.” Swords clash behind me. “If you do not mind, my lady, I have interest in watching this match.”

Without waiting for a response, I return to the arena railing.

My chest is tight. I promised to do this for Harper, but I feel as though I’ve sworn to arrange a meeting between a mouse and a lion.

Lilith steps up to the rail beside me, but she says nothing. Grey and Jamison fight in the center of the arena, though there’s no elegance to it now. The soldier’s swordplay has taken on an air of desperation—but he still fights.

Eventually, Lilith says, “You should have mercy on this man, Prince Rhen. Grey will run him into the ground.”