But my failure burns from inside, so much more painful than what Lilith can do.

“I will,” he says.

He doesn’t need the dagger. This conversation is piercing my heart quite well. I pour another glass. “Good.”

“Because she has asked for me to return.”

I snap my head up. “What?”

“Her final order before I left her at her door. For me to return once she has had a chance to settle things with her family. For me to bring her back to Emberfall.”

Now I am wishing I had not imbibed the sugared spirits. My thoughts trip and stumble in an attempt to keep up. “When? Grey—when?”

“Once day hence. Midnight.”

One day. One day.

“Too late,” I say.

His gaze sharpens—or it tries to. “Why?”

Any hope that flared in my chest has burned out quickly and turned to ash. I unbuckle the jacket across my chest, then pull the shirt wide, so he can see the scales.

He does not gasp, which I expect, but instead sighs, then picks up his glass again. “I have changed my mind. Another, if you please.”

I pour. We drink.

We sit in silence for the longest time, until the alcohol begins to send my thoughts drifting toward sleep. The room is warm, the fire crackling invitingly. My eyelids flicker. A part of me wishes I could drift into death right now, as if it would be as easy a slide as sleep.

Not yet. I owe my people this much.

“I do not recall scales before,” Grey says eventually.

My eyes open. “I thought they were new as well.”

“They’re really quite lovely—” He cuts himself short and swears. “Silver hell. My lord—I mean to say—”

I laugh again, but this time it’s slow. Lazy. “You’re amusing when you’re drunk. I truly feel I have missed an opportunity.”

His expression sobers. “You think Harper will be too late?” A pause. “I could return for her sooner.”

“No. Grey. If you return at all, do it for yourself.” I touch a hand to the scales again, gingerly so they do not cut me. “We may not have one day, let alone two.” I pause. “If not love, Harper saw … promise in me. I would not—I would not have her see the monster I become.”

“It is not—” He cuts himself off and swears again. “I should not speak freely—”

“You should. I have released you from your oath. You have served me far longer than any man should. Speak your mind, Grey.”

He looks at me. “Your time is not up. You have rallied your people. You conceived a plan that I found ludicrous when I first heard it, but you have brought it to pass.”

“Thanks in no small part to you.”

He waves me off. “We have guards. An army. A meeting with the Queen of Syhl Shallow. A country full of people to protect.”

I pick up my glass and fill it again. “Indeed.”

He snatches the glass out of my hand and throws it into the fireplace. It explodes with a crash and a sizzle, and I stare up at him.

“You accomplished these things because you dared to act like you could.” He picks up his dagger and re-sheathes it with a vengeance. “Lilith has not won. Not yet. You have not yet lost. Stop acting as if you have.”

He’s so commanding. So sure. It is no wonder he has gained the respect of his guardsmen so quickly. I smile. Incline my head. “Yes, my lord.”

For a moment, anger flashes across his features, but he must decide it’s not worth it. He drops back into his chair. “You are incorrigible. I have no idea how I put up with you for so long.”

I raise an eyebrow, more amused than anything else. “Is that the drink talking?”

The shadow of a wicked smile finds his lips. “You told me to speak my mind.”

I sit back in the chair. Sudden emotion sweeps over me, thickening my throat and biting through the haze of the drink. “I tried, Grey.” My voice almost catches, but I stop it. “I truly tried.”

“I know.”

“There is no way out. You once said I plan my actions twenty moves in advance. There are no moves left to make.”

“Then perhaps it is time to play like a guardsman, and not like a king.”

I blink at him.

“Stop planning,” he says. “Wait for them—Lilith, Karis Luran—to make their move. You’ve had season after season to dwell and plan and strategize.” He fishes his deck of cards out of the pouch on his belt, then flips them between his fingers to shuffle.

His eyes meet mine. “Perhaps now it is time for you to think on your feet.”

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

HARPER

Mom has been sleeping for hours.

It’s close to five a.m. now, and I’ve been curled up in bed beside her, listening to the whoosh of her oxygen tank. She smells like sickness. I’d forgotten that.

The longer I lie here listening to her quiet breathing, the more I worry that I’m too late, that she’s going to pass away with me right here, never having a chance to say anything to her.

“Harp.” Jake speaks quietly from the doorway.

I barely lift my face from the pillow to look at him. “What?”

“You’ve been in here for hours.”

“I’m waiting for her to wake up.”

“Sometimes she—she doesn’t really.” A pause. “You need—we need …” His voice trails off.

I know what he needs. What he wants. An explanation. I rub at my tired eyes. The knife-lined bracers are still bound around my forearms under my sweatshirt, and I’m aware of them every time I move.

“I’ll wait,” I say to Jake. “I want her to know I’m here.”

He comes into the room and drops into the armchair beside her bed. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes red. He looks like life has thrown him against the wall a few dozen times—and it has no intention of stopping. He’s changed so much in the weeks I’ve been gone. His eyes are harder than I remember. More wary. I want to throw my arms around his neck and beg him to be the sweet brother I remember.

“She’s asked about you a lot.” He sniffs, like he’s sucking back tears. “I didn’t—I didn’t tell her you were missing. I read about how losing a child can accelerate death in a terminal patient, and I didn’t—I couldn’t—” His voice breaks and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Harper, where were you? Where did you get everything in that bag?”

The question isn’t emotional like the rest of his words. His voice is edged. Almost suspicious.

“I don’t know how to explain.” I’d prepared an explanation about being kidnapped and escaping with the bag of riches, but I don’t want to lie to him. Not like this, sitting on my mother’s deathbed.

“Harper, I need to ask you something.”

Mom shifts and takes a deeper breath. I freeze, waiting, hoping she’ll wake up.

She doesn’t.

I look back at Jake. “Go ahead.”

“Is this—are you working with them?” His eyes, dark and narrow just like mine, fix on my face. He’s never been wary of me. “Is this some kind of trap?”

“What?” I exclaim. “No!” I want to hit him. “I came back to help you.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve been gone for weeks and weeks, and you’ve shown up on the last day we can do anything to survive. It’s all a little …” He takes a breath, but his eyes are still hard. “Convenient.”

“Fine,” I snap. “I was kidnapped by a fairy-tale prince. He made me a princess. He was cursed by an evil enchantress. I had a chance to help him break the curse or come back here—”

“Mom is dying and you’re going to crack jokes? What the hell is wrong with you?” He stands up, looming over me. “Where have you been, Harper?”

“You aren’t going to believe me.”

He leans closer. To my surprise, his hands have formed fists. The tendons on his forearms stand out. “Try me.”

He would be intimidating, but he’s my big brother, and he’s always been my protector. Besides, I’ve scuffled with Scary Grey and half the soldiers in Rhen’s new army, and Jake’s got nothing on that. “What are you going to do?” I say. “Rough me up like everyone else you’ve been shaking down for Lawrence?”

He jerks back, eyes wide. “What? How did you—?”

“Jake?” Mom’s eyelids flutter. Her voice is whisper-soft. “Jake, what’s wrong?”

His throat jerks as he swallows all his rage. “Mom.” His voice is rough and hushed. “Sorry.”

Her head slowly turns. “Oh! Harper. You’re … here.”

Her voice is so weak. I can barely hear her.

I’m crying again before I even realize it. “I’m here, Mom.”

Her eyes fall closed. “I’ve been … thinking of you … so much. Did you … feel it?”

“I did.” I choke. “I did.”

“I’m so proud of you. You’ve been … working so hard.”

I stop breathing. “Mom?”

“She doesn’t always make sense,” Jake whispers, so softly it’s almost under his breath.