Harper drifts from the window as well. “This is like a big game of Risk,” she says, coming to survey the largest map, pinned down in the center of the table. The northern lands, showing the mountain range bordering Syhl Shallow.

“Risk?” I echo.

“It’s a war strategy game.” Harper picks up a small iron figurine. “You even have the little men.”

I give a short laugh, though I feel no humor. “To live in a world where war strategy is a game.”

“Hey.” Her eyes pierce me. “You know my life isn’t sunshine and roses either.”

I nod, conceding. “As you say.”

“Show me how it works.”

I hesitate, not wanting to think about the impending doom of my people to such an extent that I would map it out, but Harper is watching me expectantly.

I sigh and rise from the chair, gathering a dozen of the iron pieces into my hands. “Syhl Shallow is here,” I say, placing six horse-and-rider figurines along the mountain range. “Jamison said there was a battle at Willminton, and his regiment was destroyed, which means I can assume Karis Luran’s soldiers control access through the mountain pass.”

“How wide is the mountain pass?” she says. “Could we set up an ambush or something?”

I glance up, impressed. “We could—but they likely control enough of the area surrounding the entrance to the path to prevent that very thing.” I shake my head. “Our best bet will be to give the illusion of strength. To not engage in battle at all. To form the impression of an army of size, not necessarily of might.” I place more figurines around Ironrose. “If we can form a battalion around the castle—”

“You know I don’t know these military words.”

“If we can place groups of soldiers around the castle, and then find a way to send messengers to the border cities instructing them to have their soldiers gather strategically here and here”—I place more figurines—“it will give the illusion of a well-prepared militia.”

Harper comes around the table to stand beside me and she surveys the table as well. “So why don’t you sound happier?”

I flash on an image of a home burning while soldiers bar the door, stabbing swords through the slats while people try to escape.

I shudder and move away. “Because I have no idea whether I still have soldiers posted at the borders. I have no one I trust to deliver a secure message.”

“Grey?”

“We need him here if we are to continue visiting the closer cities. I will not send him away for weeks at a time.”

Something in her expression flickers. “Right.”

I frown. “What is it?”

“You said ‘weeks at a time.’ I just … I hadn’t thought about this dragging on so long.”

Ah. Her mother. This mission—this curse—promises nothing but misery in every direction. “You still hope to bargain for passage home. You would not have wanted to meet with the Lady Lilith last night, my lady. I assure you.”

Harper studies me, and the weight of her eyes presses down upon me. “I’ve seen what Lilith can do,” she says. “I don’t understand what’s different.”

I cannot explain without telling her everything. I drop into my chair and study the array of figurines on the table. One remains trapped between my hands and I turn it end over end.

Harper steps toward me and that figurine goes still. My muscles are tense and I have to force myself to remain in the chair.

She must notice, because she doesn’t come closer. She eases into the chair three seats away.

But then she says softly, “Do not run from me.”

Our words from last night. So much has changed between then and now. One night changed so much, in so many ways. I can offer nothing but failure. This curse has proved that much. In truth, all Lilith provided was a reminder.

I look at Harper and take a breath to make sure my voice is as steady as ever. “I will not run.” I pause, then rise. “But for now, my lady, perhaps you could avoid pursuit.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

HARPER

As days pass, preparations for war—or for the impression of war—hit a fever pitch. A messenger arrives from the North Loc Hills, a town south of the mountain pass, informing Rhen that more soldiers from Syhl Shallow have built a camp there. Suddenly there are people in and around the castle all the time: training in the courtyard and the arena, exercising the horses, and repairing weapons.

Rhen is always occupied. Everyone and everything demands his attention. The only time we spend together is on our rides to neighboring cities, but even then, he’s walled off. He plays the role of doting prince quite well—but the moment the eyes of his people leave us, he becomes distant and distracted.

Grey is always busy, too. He selected ten guardsmen from those who applied, and now his days are filled with drills and training and practice—when he’s not guarding Rhen himself.

To my surprise, Zo was one Grey chose—and the only female. Grey must trust her, because I regularly find her guarding my door when I wake in the morning.

“Did you hire Zo because I made a big deal of it at Silvermoon?” I ask Grey one evening, a rare moment when we’re alone. We’re in the stable, where he’s been taking stock of what horses will be best suited for the guards he’s chosen.

“I hired her because she can fight,” he says. “She is quick with a bow, and surefooted. Her swordplay is weak, but she is not easily distracted. I believe she will do well.”

I watched her spar with one of the other applicants, but I don’t know what I’m looking at, so that didn’t mean much. “But—wasn’t she a musician’s apprentice?”

“Yes, my lady.” He cinches a saddle on a large chestnut gelding. “Just as I was once a farm boy.”

Well, I guess there’s that. He slips a bridle onto the horse’s head.

In the days since people started showing up at the castle, Grey has been more reserved—probably the way he’s supposed to be, out of deference to the Princess of Disi. He’s one of two people who know the truth about me, though, and the only one I can ask about Rhen. In a minute, he’s going to be through the doorway, and I’m going to lose another chance to talk to him.

“Grey,” I say quietly. “Wait. Please.”

He waits, of course, and looks at me, though his expression gives away nothing. I realize he expects an order, or some kind of request.

I don’t want to give him an order. I need him to be my friend.

Maybe I’ve already closed the door on that.

“Forget it,” I say. I suddenly feel more alone than ever. “Go ahead. You’re busy.”

“My lady,” he says quietly.

When I turn back, he’s taken a step closer to me. His eyes search mine. “You are troubled.”

“Rhen’s still not speaking to me,” I say softly.

Grey glances away. He knows.

“Is he speaking to you?”

He hesitates. “No. He is not.”

“Do you think Lilith is secretly torturing him at night?”

Grey glances at the opposite end of the aisle, where a stablehand is sweeping spilled grain. Even when we’re alone, we’re never truly alone anymore.

“We’re riding to Hutchins Forge this evening,” he says.

“I remember.” Some dinner with a Grand Marshal who has his own private army. Rhen said I wasn’t needed.

Grey says, “I do not believe Prince Rhen will be displeased if the journey lasts well into the night.”

Meaning Lilith won’t be able to bother him.

I swallow. “I can’t help him if he won’t talk to me, Grey. He’s not trying to break the curse, he’s not stopping her—” I break off, frustrated. “I’ve been trying to give him space, but … I don’t know what to do.”

Grey moves closer, until his words are for me alone. “He will deny you nothing, my lady. Not even that which he does not want to give.”

Oh. I stare up at him.

Grey draws back. He glances at the doorway and the slowly darkening sky. “Forgive me. The light fades.” He clucks to the horse and heads out of the stables.

Zo waits outside the stables, ready to escort me back to my chambers. When we get to my door, I stop before closing myself inside. “Zo, could you please send word to the prince that I would like to join him on his trip to Hutchins Forge?”

“Yes, my lady.” She gives me a nod and moves away.

While she’s gone, I change out of the rank riding clothes and rinse quickly in the ever-present warmth of the bathtub, then find fresh clothes suitable for visiting with nobility.

A knock sounds at the door.

“Enter,” I say. “Please.”

Zo opens the door and comes in, but her expression says she’s not returning with good news. “His Highness says your presence is not warranted nor required.”

My mouth forms a line. So much for denying me nothing. “Great.”

“I am sorry,” Zo says softly.

Rhen asked me not to pursue him. I’ve been trying. But this isn’t an alliance anymore. It’s … I don’t know what this has turned into.