Rhen grips his abdomen now. His labored breathing echoes through the arena.

“Stop,” I gasp. “Please stop.”

“Remember this, girl. Remember how easily he falls.”

There is no danger of me forgetting. I strain against Grey’s hold.

Lilith watches me. Her face is so young, her eyes clear and vibrant. She takes a step toward Rhen and he tries to recoil. “No matter how much power the crown prince would have you believe he holds, it is truly meaningless.”

I redouble my struggles. I have no idea what I can do, but I know I can’t just watch. “Grey,” I cry. “We have to help him.”

He’s too big. Too strong. His arms encircle my rib cage, and my feet barely touch the ground.

“We cannot,” he says.

“You believe our prince cannot take the pain?” says Lilith. “Do you hear that, Rhen? She thinks you’re weak.”

I shake my head fiercely. I think of whatever Jake has had to do to keep us safe. I think of the men who used to deliver “reminders” to my father. I didn’t think I would ever see anything more terrible. I was wrong. “Please,” I say. “He’s not weak. Please stop.”

“I assure you, I’ve had time to find his limits. This is nothing.”

I don’t want to see his limits.

Rhen coughs again, wetly, and presses his forehead to the ground. He’s coughed up enough blood that a dark pool sits beneath his jaw.

Lilith reaches down and grabs a fistful of his hair, wrenching him somewhat upright. I expect him to look furious. Desperate. Terrified, maybe.

Instead, he looks resigned. His eyes center on nothing. Not on Grey. And certainly not on me.

“Am I to understand you have a request for me?” says Lilith.

I can barely process her words. I can’t look away from Rhen. “Please stop.” My voice breaks. “Please stop hurting him.”

“That is your request?”

I freeze. That’s not my request, but right now, I’ll do anything to stop this.

Lilith jerks his head higher and he winces. “She begs for you, Rhen. And you asked me to send her home. You’re such a fool.”

No. I was the fool.

“Make your request,” says Lilith. “I grow bored, girl. Rhen knows what happens when I grow bored.” She jerks his head back and he makes a sound I never want to hear again.

I don’t know what’s happening to my mother or my brother, but the unknown can’t compete with what she’s doing right in front of me. I pry at Grey’s arm, trying to use the buckles for leverage. He holds fast.

Rhen coughs again. Lilith reaches down with her free hand. A spot of blood appears where her fingers touch his neck. He jerks away but she holds him in place.

My hand slides across the hilt of one of Grey’s throwing knives. I jerk the blade free. I hold it just like Grey showed me.

Softer.

I throw it straight at Lilith.

The blade flies true, but only skims her skirts before driving into the dirt beyond.

Lilith snaps her head around to look at me. I expect fury in her eyes, but there is only surprise.

She lets Rhen go and he all but collapses into the dirt, his breathing rapid. His forehead isn’t pressed to the ground now.

He’s turned his head to look at me.

Lilith steps away from him and picks up the knife I threw. It hangs between her fingers, the steel swinging gently, catching the light.

“You tore my dress,” she says.

“I was aiming higher,” I say. “But I’m still learning.”

“Perhaps you need a demonstration.”

“Lilith.” Rhen speaks, his voice harsh and broken. “You cannot harm her. You swore to never interfere with the girls.”

Lilith keeps moving toward me. She’s so graceful that she could be floating over the dirt floor of the arena. “She threw a knife at me, Your Highness. I did not interfere. She did.”

Rhen is lying in the dirt, crouching over a pool of his own blood. It makes Lilith’s approach all the more terrifying. I think of my mother facing my father’s harassers—and later, cancer treatments. I know pain. So does my mother. I’ve lived it. I’ve watched my mother live it. I can get through this.

I grit my teeth. “Grey. Release me.”

He lets go but does not leave my side.

Lilith’s eyebrows go up. “Impressive. Commander Grey will not even listen to me. I see you have brought him to heel.”

Her voice makes me want to flinch. I refuse to give her the satisfaction. “He’s not a dog.”

“If one is not the dog, one is the master, and Grey is certainly not that.” She pauses. “Which role do you play, girl?”

“Beats me, but I know which one you are.” I glare at her. “I have another word for it, though.”

Lilith goes still. Any amusement melts off her face.

Rhen has made it to his feet. “You cannot harm her,” he says. “You swore.”

“I swore not to kill them,” Lilith says. “I swore not to interfere with your attempts at courtship.” She steps closer to me. “That,” she says, “is all I swore.”

Beside me, Grey draws his sword.

She does not glance at him, and she makes no move toward me. Her eyes are fixed on mine. “You wished to ask me for passage home? That is all?”

I swallow. “Yes.” But now I don’t want to ask her for anything.

“And that is all you want?”

“Yes.” My voice is soft.

“Do you not see my power?” She takes a step closer. “What if I could end the torment of your broken body?”

“No,” says Rhen. He staggers forward. “Harper, what she offers will come at a cost.”

“My body is not broken,” I say.

“You amuse me, girl. What about your mother’s body? Would you consider hers broken?”

I go very still. My eyes fill against my will. “You know about my mother?”

“I’ve been to see her.” A heavy, vicious pause. “She thinks I am an angel. She believes I can ease her pain. Perhaps I can.”

“No,” says Rhen. “Harper, the cost will be greater than her loss—”

“What about my brother?” A tear spills down my cheek. “Is my brother okay?”

“Ah, your brother. The great enforcer. He is a man of violence. I find I admire his talents.”

“He’s alive.” My voice breaks.

“Oh, he is alive,” she says. “But he is far from well.”

“Please,” I whisper. “Please let me help them.”

She steps closer to me. Her free hand reaches out to touch my cheek. I flinch and expect to feel a flare of pain, but her palm is cool. Almost motherly. “You poor girl. You know nothing of this side. It is unfair that Prince Rhen has trapped you in this curse.”

My breathing hitches. “So you’ll help me?”

“No.” Her expression tightens. “If you wish to ask me for favors, you would do well to learn respect.”

Then she brings up the knife and swipes it across the opposite side of my face.

The motion is so sudden and unexpected that I don’t realize she’s done anything until she’s already gone. Vanished.

Then I feel the sting. The burn as my tears find their way into broken skin. I slap my hand to my cheek.

There’s dampness. Stickiness. I can feel the edges of my skin where she cut me.

I whimper. I can’t breathe. A wet trickle snakes down my neck.

Rhen has made his way to me. “We need to get you into the palace.” His voice is hoarse and worn.

“She cut me,” I say. The pain is setting in now, a fire that lights up the entire side of my cheek.

Rhen catches my arm. There’s blood streaked on his face, on his jacket. Dirt clings to some of it. He looks as pale as I feel. “Please, my lady. There is a lot of blood.”

I’m shaking. Trembling so hard I can barely stand. My entire palm is slick and crimson.

“There are supplies in the armory,” says Grey.

“Supplies?” My own voice seems to be coming from a distance.

“It needs stitching.” Rhen’s voice sounds like it’s underwater. Slow and lethargic. “My lady, please allow me to—”

I can’t give permission. I can’t do anything.

My vision goes black.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

RHEN

I have never kept a bedside vigil.

When I was young, I would have considered such a thing tedious and boring—if I ever considered it at all. I never needed to—and I likely do not need to now. Harper’s wound could have been far worse: The knife could have caught her neck, or sliced into the muscle of her arm. She could have lost her eye.

Harper will wake. She will survive. She has a lady-in-waiting who could sit at her bedside. I do not need to be here.

But I find I cannot leave.

Ironrose has never felt so quiet, the silence pressing in around us, broken only by the soft crackle of the fire, and Harper’s slow, even breaths. The music from the Great Hall is silent tonight, and I am grateful. I study the slightly arced line that bisects her cheek, the twenty stitches holding the skin closed. An angry wound that seems out of place on the soft curve of her face.