What did Grey say? Not even that which he does not want to give.

I look up at Zo and wonder if she’ll take my order over Rhen’s. “Call for horses,” I say. “We’re going after them.”

Surprise lights her eyes. I expect her to refuse.

She doesn’t. “Yes, my lady. Right away.”

Hutchins Forge is smaller than Silvermoon, less fortified, and the tired guard waves us through the gate with barely a glance. In many of these cities, we’ve learned, security is only about the monster—not about people.

We’ve been traveling slowly, because I don’t want Rhen to see me following and send me home. My only option here is to join him in front of his subjects, where he won’t risk an incident.

It’s late enough that the streets aren’t crowded, and the horses’ hooves clop on the slush-coated cobblestones. “The Grand Marshal’s residence is there,” says Zo quietly, nodding at a large home that towers over the rest of the city. A bow is strapped to her back, along with a quiver of arrows. “Should we circle around to come from the opposite direction?” She hesitates. “If your goal is to not be detected?”

I give her a surprised glance.

She smiles, but it’s hesitant, as if she’s unsure how I’ll respond. “Was I not to have noticed?”

After Rhen’s aloofness and Grey’s austerity, it’s nice to have a companion who knows how to smile—and who isn’t telling me what to do. I can’t help smiling back. “I’m glad you did.”

We loop through the city streets. Few people are out, but rumor has spread this far. People notice the crest on my cloak or on Zo’s armor, and they bow or curtsy as we pass. We navigate around to the far side of the Grand Marshal’s home, then tie the horses at the post there. A low wall surrounds the building, forming a small empty courtyard out front. The guests have all moved inside.

I study the building. It’s so quiet out here in the lightly falling snow. Candles flicker in every window, but there are no sounds to indicate danger. I have no idea where Rhen and Grey are—or whether this silence is meaningful or menacing.

The courtyard isn’t huge, though, and it’s clear we’re alone.

“The Grand Marshal should have guards,” says Zo quietly. “I was here with the Master of Song at summer’s end. He had four guards in the courtyard.”

Now there are none. I’ve been to enough cities to know this is unusual.

I’ve been so worried about Lilith torturing Rhen that I didn’t really consider what would happen if a threat emerged in one of the cities. Most of our guards are young or untested—as proven by the girl who so eagerly accompanied me out of the castle.

“We should go in,” I finally say.

The snow silences our footsteps. When we move into the courtyard, I realize Zo has drawn her bow.

She freezes and her voice drops to barely more than a breath. “My lady. Just there.”

A body in the snow, hidden in the shadowed corner of the courtyard. Throat cut, a crimson stripe in the snow.

He’s wearing the Royal Guard uniform. It takes me a moment, but then I recognize the shock of red hair. His name is Mave. A knife sticks out of his neck. Snow has collected in the hollows of his face, covering his eyes.

My breathing shakes. We were almost killed in Silvermoon Harbor, and then we had Grey and Jamison. Tonight I have a dagger and I have Zo. It’s so cold and we’re so alone.

I look at her—but she’s looking at me. I’m the princess, and I’m in charge.

I’ve never been in charge of anything. At home, Jake told me what to do. In Emberfall, it’s always Rhen, or, in his own way, it’s Grey.

I feel a flicker of the responsibility Rhen must feel for his people. Zo will do as I say. She’s risking her life.

All I can think about is Grey saying My duty is to bleed so you do not.

“Let’s go,” I say. Zo nods and follows, a shadow at my side. Her arrow sits ready on the string.

The door gives when I push, and for a long, ominous moment, I hear nothing. The home is eerily silent. The front room is empty, so we slip down the central hallway. A man laughs loudly from somewhere at the back of the house, a long booming sound. Others join in.

Then Rhen’s voice. “Grand Marshal, I’ve missed your humor. My father would often speak of what a joy your support meant to him.”

He’s alive. He’s laughing. For a second, I wonder if we’re wrong. I wonder if I’m going to screw something up.

But Mave’s body lies in the courtyard. That’s not normal—and Rhen wouldn’t be laughing if he knew about it.

To our left, a door opens and Zo swings around, her bow raised.

A serving girl shrieks and drops the platter she was carrying. Silverware rings to the stone floor. Dishes of soup shatter upon impact.

Suddenly, we’re surrounded by guards—ours, including Grey, and some who must belong to the Grand Marshal. All have weapons drawn. Beyond them, three men have appeared at the far end of the hallway.

Rhen is one of them. His expression is tight. “My lady.” He pauses. “I thought you were otherwise occupied this evening.”

The servant girl is crouched on the floor, whimpering, her hands over her head.

“My plans changed.” I count quickly in my head. Seven guards block the hallway, but only three are ours. Two men stand with Rhen. It seems like there are more people in the room behind him. We’re outnumbered two-to-one—and I still have no idea who killed Mave. Nothing about this meeting feels right.

Rhen’s eyes bore into mine—then flick past me to take in Zo, who still has an arrow nocked. I clear my throat before he can say anything. “Forgive my tardiness. I apologize for giving the serving girl such a fright.”

I stride forward as if I expect the guardsmen to fall back and yield the hallway—and they do.

The hall gives way to a large dining room, with a marble floor and painted ceramic tiles lining the walls in gold and red, the colors of Emberfall. The guards shift to filter back into the room, taking positions along the wall. In the hallway, I hear the serving girl hurriedly trying to gather the dishes. Zo stays right at my side, her bow still in her hands, the arrow trained on the ground.

Rhen is glaring at me, but he says, “Allow me to introduce the Grand Marshal of Hutchins Forge, and his Seneschal.”

“Gentlemen.” I give them a tense nod. The Grand Marshal is a thin man with a lean, wiry build and a narrow beard. His expression is thoughtful and calculating. His Seneschal is his opposite in every way: large, with a belly that all but sits in his lap, a thick beard that seems greased, and small beady eyes. He’s the smug one.

I wish Rhen and I weren’t completely at odds. At least on my first day in Emberfall, I knew his motives. Now nothing makes sense.

“I would like to speak with you privately,” I say to Rhen.

The Seneschal gives me a once-over and chuckles. It shakes his whole body. It’s not a good sound. “Your Highness, I have heard talk of your scarred warrior princess, but I did not realize she would be so”—his eyes flick over my form—“small.” He elbows the Grand Marshal.

They share a good laugh—but Rhen says, “Do not underestimate the princess.” His voice could cut steel.

The Grand Marshal’s laughter goes quiet, but he does not apologize. “We are all friends here. Surely you can speak openly, my lady.”

I look to Rhen, hoping he’ll disagree, but his gaze is still unyielding, and he’s more concerned with the fact that I’m crashing his party.

This all feels so precarious. I stand behind a chair and fix my hands on the back of it to keep from fidgeting. “Where are your guards, Grand Marshal? I expected to be greeted when I arrived.”

“You seemed to make your way in here all right.” He narrows his eyes as if I’m still funny. “I don’t control my men’s every move. I have a private army. No one would dare attack my home.”

“One of our guards is dead in the courtyard,” I say. “Forgive me if I do not find much reassurance in the strength of your army.”

Tension falls like an ax.

“Explain this,” Rhen says.

Grey moves from the wall to stand behind him. He gives a low order to one of our guards by the wall, a sandy-haired man named Dustan. Dustan nods, then moves to leave the room.

“You must be mistaken,” says the Seneschal. He laughs again, but now it’s more of a choked sound. “Nim, go with their guardsman. Check it out.”

A man who must be Nim shifts away from the wall to follow our guard.

As Nim passes me, he begins to draw his weapon.

I don’t know why, but that makes my thoughts stall.

The Grand Marshal is glaring at me. “Why do I feel like you’re accusing me of something, girl?”

“This girl is the Princess of Disi,” Rhen says carefully. He must sense danger, too. “Perhaps you were unaware.”

The Grand Marshal’s eyes don’t leave mine. “I’m aware.”

“You invited Prince Rhen to your home for some type of negotiation,” I say. “But to me it seems more like a trap.”

“Why does Emberfall need my army if Disi is willing to provide its forces?”