“It’s so good … to see you two … together,” she says. “Always … always take care of each other.”

“We will.” I lift her slender hand and kiss her wrist.

Her eyes flutter and she looks at me. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been waiting so long.” A long pause. So long I think she’s fallen asleep. “I love you both so much.”

“I love you, too, Mom.”

I’ve been waiting so long to be with her, and now I’m here, and time is running out. It was awful watching her suffer—but now that I’m here, I want more time.

“I love you, too,” says Jake. He’s not looming anymore. His face is drawn and pale.

Mom takes another breath.

And then she doesn’t take any more.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

RHEN

Karis Luran travels with few guards and servants. Her entourage is nearly nonexistent.

Grey and I stand in a high window and watch her carriage rattle into the courtyard. Four guards, two at the front, two at the back. Her guardsmen wear black armor trimmed with green and black, with a steel shield obscuring the lower half of their faces. They carry rapiers, lighter swords favored in the north. They’re quick and vicious and deadly. Her guardsmen look that way, too.

The vehicle is covered with green silk, the horses adorned with silver bells that jingle along the harness. The carriage windows are blocked with gauzy white material that flutters in the breeze. We cannot see in—but Karis Luran can surely see out. My own soldiers line the courtyard, but many are new. Untested. So much of today’s success lies in the actions of others.

Though … I suppose it was always so. Even for my father. I never truly realized.

“Only four guards,” Grey says to me, his voice low. “Revealing weakness?”

“No.” I nod down at the carriage stopping before the castle. “She believes she has nothing to fear.” My original plan was to have her and her entourage welcomed into the Great Hall to wait there for me. A small show of superiority—something my father would have done.

But if she has arrived with such a small traveling party, she has already thrown down the gauntlet of superiority.

Think on my feet, indeed.

“Come,” I say to Grey. “We must meet her.”

I cannot control what music plays in the Great Hall, what food will be arranged on the tables, but today, the melody is light and lively, harp and flute played low, background music for an early-morning gathering. The ladies of the castle have gone to work to make things more festive. For the first time, cascades of autumn colors hang from the rafters and adorn the tables, dark greens and rusted browns and muted gold. The long carpet that leads all the way to the staircase has been exchanged for a newer one trimmed in vibrant gold and red. As I stride across the floor, the guards we have stationed at the base of the staircase move to follow. Grey signals for them to stay in place.

If she can enter my castle with four guards, I can face her with one.

My heart beats against my rib cage like a chained beast that wants to escape. I have nothing left to live for, but my people—they do. This is my final chance to protect them.

The guards at the door move to swing it open when I approach. As the wood shifts and creaks, I want to call for them to wait.

As always, I want to beg for more time.

Oh, Harper. Midnight. I don’t think it will be soon enough.

I know it won’t. The scales under my clothing catch and pull at the fabric.

The doors open. Cool autumn air streams into the Great Hall.

Karis Luran stands on the marble just outside the door, dressed in robes of green and ivory silk that trail behind her along the ground. A band of silver sits against the creamy skin of her forehead, gleaming in the early-morning light, disappearing under a spill of bloodred hair. She is not beautiful, but she is striking. Her eyes are darkly gold, which would imply some kind of warmth, but there is no kindness in her gaze. She commands the attention of everyone in the room immediately. This is a woman who can order her army to slaughter people by the hundreds—and has.

Her four guards form a square around her. They’re all matched for height, though none are very tall. They’re more leanly built, too, though thick with armor. The tight band of steel covering the lower halves of their faces turns them all androgynous—which is somehow intimidating.

Mind games. I know this. I’m better than this.

I bow. “Karis Luran,” I begin warmly. “Welcome to Emberfall.”

She meets my eyes, then glances away dismissively. When she speaks, her voice is sharply accented, but the words are perfectly clear.

“Fetch your father, boy.”

Every word is an insult in a different way.

Fetch.

Your father.

Boy.

Emberfall has effectively been under my rule since the change began and I slaughtered my family—for all the tragedy that has unfolded, some good has transpired, too. Those changes are right here in the Great Hall with me, standing at my back, ready to fight, if necessary. I have arranged meetings with nobles. City leaders. When I fall—and I will fall, whether at Grey’s hand or my own—Emberfall will not be lost. My army is small, but they are willing to fight. For the first time in my life, I feel a spark of pride in who I am and what I have created.

Karis Luran nearly douses that spark with one sentence.

I fight to keep my composure. The change simmers, not far off, and it is harder to keep my anger in check than it should be. I allow time for one slow breath. “I summoned you. You will meet with me.”

“No one summons me.”

She does not say this in anger. A simple declaration.

Behind me, the quiet harp music strums along. Commander Grey is a shadow at my shoulder. “I issued a summons,” I say, my tone just as evenly declarative. “And here you are.”

Her expression tightens by the barest fraction. “I will speak with the king. No one else.”

“You will meet with me, or you will return to Syhl Shallow. My army will be happy to escort your forces to the border.”

Her gaze is impassive. “Where is your father?”

“He sends his regards.”

“Where is he?”

I want to declare that she has no right to demand answers from me, but I need this meeting to end in something other than all-out war. “He is visiting with the King of Disi. They are negotiating our alliance.” Every word is even and measured, but this conversation feels more violent than swinging swords. “Your soldiers nearly killed Princess Harper several weeks ago. Her father is eager to send his forces to Emberfall.”

“I am unfamiliar with this country of Disi.”

“Much to your regret, I am sure.” I pause, and a vivid tension falls between us, swirling with the breeze that winds through the open doorway. “Do you care to discuss what this alliance will mean for my country?” Another pause. “And yours?”

“In Syhl Shallow, if a man lies to me, I remove his tongue and force him to eat it.”

Behind her, one of her guards draws a blade and lays it across both palms. A threat. A clear one.

To my right, Grey does not move, but his attention sharpens. He will not draw a weapon until absolutely necessary. I hope his guardsmen are equally patient.

“Fascinating. Tell me, Karis, do you have your chef prepare it first—”

“You will not address me in such a common manner.” Her eyes darken. “And you will not mock me.”

“You addressed me as ‘boy.’ I thought you wished to be familiar.”

“I am the Queen of Syhl Shallow. You will remember your place.”

“I am the Crown Prince of Emberfall.” I refuse to allow a bite of anger to find my tone. “You will remember yours.”

“Oh, I do.” Her lips curve into what might have been called a smile if there were any kindness behind it. “My spies have warned me of this Disi. Of your alliance. I have heard of Princess Harper and the soldiers she promises to bring. The invasion this crippled princess hopes to subvert.”

“You will not speak ill of the princess.”

Karis Luran continues as if I have not spoken. “I have heard reports of your growing army, the way your return to Emberfall has rallied the people.”

“I am glad to have returned from Disi with such good news for my subjects.”

Her voice lowers. “My spies have seen no soldiers from Disi. No emissaries. No servants for your alleged ‘princess.’ ” A pause, then she glances around. “Not even a princess to stand at your side. I will ask you again, boy. Where is your father?”

I am losing this conversation. I am failing. Again. “I have answered your question.”

“I suspect you are being less than truthful. I will not ask a third time.”

“I invited you here to discuss a way to prevent your soldiers from being driven out of my country by force. I bear the king’s seal. My word is good. Are you telling me you would rather allow your people to die than speak with me?”

“You believe you will be able to drive my soldiers out of your lands? I invite you to try.”

“You truly are so arrogant as to risk your subjects?”

“No. You are.” She pauses. “Have your people flee to Disi if they believe its king will welcome them with open arms. I suspect they will find you have fed them an empty promise.” Her eyes do not leave mine. “I suspect they will discover their king is dead, and their prince is hanging on to his throne by little more than hope and trickery.”