Another bolt of failure to join the others lodged in my heart. I clench my eyes closed. “You will leave Harper alone. You will leave Grey alone.”

Her tongue traces the length of my jaw and I shudder. “Of course, Your Highness. You know I would much rather play with you.”

Her hand catches my chin. Turns my head. Her lips press against mine.

My jaw is locked, but it does not matter. This is the worst kind of torture. Something more than pain.

I think of Harper standing in the clearing, her hand on my shoulder, gentle fingers wound through mine. I want to know it’s real.

I think of Harper throwing a knife at Lilith. Please stop hurting him.

Humiliation burns my eyes, my throat. When she breaks the kiss, relief nearly breaks me. I want to shove her away, but I am pinned to the wall. My breathing is rough and ragged.

I cannot look at her. I can barely move. My hands are still in fists, my muscles so tense I am trembling. Any hope that bloomed in my chest has now withered and died.

“You do not wish for my attentions?” she says.

I have to swallow to form a word. “No. Never.”

“Such a waste.” She lays a palm against my cheek, and I flinch. She smiles. “How do you propose to rally your people when you are so easily cowed?”

“I will do what I can to save them.” A chilling thought wraps around my chest. “Are you going to ruin this, Lilith? Are you working with Karis Luran?”

“I have told you already that I have no hand in this. I can even swear that I will allow your charade to play out.”

I blink at her. It’s rare to obtain such a direct oath from her. “You will not interfere with my people.”

“I will not interfere with your people.”

I’m nearly breathless. “And Karis Luran. You will not reveal our plans—”

“I will not reveal your plans.” Her palm is still pressed to my cheek and she leans in. “I truly wish to see her take Emberfall from you, Rhen. I shall enjoy watching.”

This promise gives me strength. I straighten. “You shall be disappointed.”

“Your Highness. Consider the state of your people.”

“I have—”

A white light steals my vision. I’m suddenly in the middle of a village. Rain pours down. Bodies are strewn everywhere. Men. Women. Children. Some have been dismembered. Arrows jut from others. Blood mixes with rain to form glistening puddles along the road. In the distance, homes are burning, smoke a thick plume pouring into the sky.

My knees threaten to collapse, but I blink and I’m staring at Lilith again.

“You show me the future?” I choke out.

“No. I show you what the soldiers of Syhl Shallow did to your border city.”

My mouth opens, but my room vanishes again. A city, this time, larger. Wildthorne Valley. A brawl has broken out. Men who are too thin to fight are battling over the remains of a roasted deer. A punch is thrown and a woman ends up in the mud. Men step on her trying to get to the dead animal. A child screams from somewhere beyond.

I cry out, but I’m back in my chambers.

“I show you the present,” Lilith says, her voice low and vicious.

“Stop,” I whisper. “Stop this.”

My room disappears again. We’re in the middle of a sunlit village. The scent of fish fills the air, but it is not Silvermoon. Another water-dependent town, though, and the people seem better fed. A young boy carries a plank laden with fish across his shoulders. He’s whistling, and a woman from a nearby hut calls out, “Jared! Hurry with those to the fishmonger! The day’s half-gone!”

“I’m going, Ma! I’m going!”

I can breathe. This scene isn’t too terrible.

A low growl fills the air. The boy’s whistle is cut short. He turns, a look of sudden panic on his face.

“Jared!” screams the woman. “No!”

A black shape rushes from the edge of my vision and tackles the boy. The creature is three times his size. Part wildcat, part bear, all claws and teeth and snarling rage. It tears him apart in less time than it takes me to blink. One moment, boy. The next, nothing but so much blood and flesh and viscera.

The woman screams so long and loud that I do not realize I have reappeared in my chambers. I’m on my knees, my arms gripped across my abdomen. I’ve bitten my lip and blood burns on my tongue.

I know what my creature does. I have heard stories from Grey. From my people themselves.

I have never seen it. Never with human eyes.

“Please,” I whimper. “Please stop.”

“Oh, but Your Highness, I believe you deserve to know the true state of your people.” Lilith’s eyes flash. “Before you lead them into war, you should know them all. Before you tear Harper limb from limb, you should know what you’re capable of.”

“No.” A tear slides down my cheek. “Please.”

She has no mercy. My rooms disappear. Lilith continues her onslaught.

No matter how much I beg, she does not stop.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

HARPER

I wake up, still swooning. Sunlight beams through my open windows, the warm autumn air carrying the scents of honeysuckle and cut grass. I half expect cartoon butterflies to start flitting around.

I would have kissed him. I wanted to kiss him. I can see why he’s failed at this curse so many times—he keeps so much of himself hidden. Even now, I feel as though I’ve barely scratched the surface. This arrogant front makes me wonder what was expected of him before the curse destroyed his life. People here seem afraid of royalty. They seem afraid of him. Based on my first days here, I understand it. But now I’ve seen the truth. Underneath the arrogant distance, he’s caring. Deeply loyal. Gentle, in fact. So unexpectedly patient. He seems afraid to show that side of himself, as if his people will abandon him if they see it.

But he so genuinely cares about protecting them. That weighs on him more than the curse, I think.

The thought of finding him this morning leaves me a little giddy. Even Freya comments on it when she arrives to plait my hair.

“You had a nice evening with the prince?” she says coyly, then bumps my shoulder with her hip.

I blush so hard my cheek aches.

Freya ties off the braid. “I believe he is in the arena with Commander Grey.” A teasing pause. “If you were curious, my lady.”

I’m curious.

I expect to find more than just Rhen and Grey in the dusty circle, but they’re alone, weapons swinging with near blinding speed. They’re striking fast, each clash of steel making me flinch. Sweat dampens their hair, telling me they’ve been at this for a while.

I slow as I approach. The air feels different. Wrong, somehow. The blush fades from my cheeks as I try to figure it out.

Rhen ducks and rushes Grey, hooking his sword to disarm him. Grey slams into the ground, and Rhen follows him down, sword aimed for the other man’s neck.

Grey snatches a dagger to stop the blade in time—and his other hand braces against Rhen’s forearm, holding him back. Their ragged breathing echoes through the arena.

Something about this feels very personal. Like I’ve walked in on an argument. I want to back away and ease out of the arena.

But then I hear Grey’s voice, low and edged with strain. “Your fight is not with me, my lord.”

Rhen swears and shoves himself back, turning away to sheathe his sword. His expression is tight, his eyes hard and set. When he finds me standing by the railing, he seems startled.

The tension on his face does not ease when he sees me. He’s as cold and distant as he was the day I arrived. The butterflies that had been frolicking in my abdomen seize up and die.

He offers a curt “My lady,” then turns and walks to the side of the arena, where a small table stands with a pitcher of water. He pours, his movements tight and forced.

Something happened.

“What’s wrong?” I say.

“Nothing at all.” He drains the glass and ducks back under the railing. He still hasn’t looked at me. “There could be another attack like in Silvermoon. We should be prepared.”

I glance at Grey, but he is watching Rhen, too. He’s reclaimed his sword, but he hasn’t sheathed his weapon.

He watches Rhen like he anticipates another attack.

Probably a good thing, because Rhen draws his sword.

I duck under the railing and step in front of him before he swings.

He sets his jaw. “Move.”

“No. Tell me what happened.”

He steps closer to me, each movement full of barely contained rage. Finally his eyes meet mine. “You will move. Or I will—”

“My lord.” Grey’s voice is quiet behind me.

For a moment, I’m not sure Rhen’s going to stop at all—but then he does. He looks away. “Please, my lady. Leave us.”

“If something happened,” I say slowly, “I need to know. If we’re in an alliance, I need—”

“We’re not,” he says.

His voice is so soft that I think I must have misheard him. “What?”

“There is no alliance, Harper. It was foolish to think I had an avenue to success here. My people have been run into the ground. Your army is a charade. If we have to fight for Emberfall, who will stand against Karis Luran’s army? There is no one.”