Madinia didn’t like it.

Within moments after I’d waved back at Davis, Madinia and I were standing next to him, gazing at hundreds of horseless

carriages. It hadn’t taken more than the mere suggestion from Madinia for him to offer us a tour.

“As you can see, this is where we keep them,” he murmured, smiling at Madinia.

To her credit, she beamed brainlessly at him. Davis’s eyes widened slightly, before crinkling at the corners.

If I hadn’t known that he’d terrorized at least three of the women I’d once shared a room with, I might have believed the almost embarrassed way he scuffed his feet.

Not to mention, Auria had told me that the day I was poisoned—when half the court had seen Lorian hauling a drunk woman back to her room— she’d seen Davis wink at the “prince.”

I wanted Davis dead.

Lorian’s voice echoed in my head.

“Just weeks away from your village, and you’re already turning into a little savage.”

“How are the carriages controlled?” Madinia murmured. “It must require a lot of power to ensure they travel where you wish them to go.”

Davis’s chest puffed, and he shot her a grin. “I’ll show you.”

Satisfaction tempered my wrath, and we trailed after him, deeper into the huge space. At the back of the room was a door I’d assumed was a closet. He opened it to reveal a city map so large, it stretched across an entire wall.

“Wow,” Madinia marveled. Davis was ignoring me, which was exactly what I’d hoped for. Taking a step closer, I attempted to memorize as many details as I could. My breath caught. The map was so incredibly detailed it was like a work of art—encompassing every part of the city. On the map, tiny replicas of the carriages were fastened, currently moving as if alive.

The king’s favorites enjoyed magic like this every day, while even our village healers were stripped of most of their magic. Magic that could have saved lives.

Madinia placed her hand on Davis’s arm, leaning close. “How does it work?”

Davis held one of his hands over the corner of the map where a stone lay on top of the parchment. I went still. It wasn’t an oceartus stone—it was a dull yellow color—but the stone glowed slightly, and Davis reached for one of the tiny carriages positioned at our backs. He nudged it with one finger, until the carriage was outside the castle gates.

“Come with me,” he said.

We followed him out to the gates, where the carriage was waiting. The nudge of his finger had moved it into place.

Ah. I glanced at Madinia. Thankfully, she wasn’t an idiot.

“There’s one thing I don’t understand,” she asked, her voice light. “How do the carriages know when to stop for people and other carriages and horses?”

“That’s part of my father’s magic. He gave the carriages a level of sentience. Just enough to ensure those within the carriages are protected.”

“And as someone who spends a lot of time in those carriages, I appreciate that.” Madinia’s laugh sounded like a hundred tiny bells all ringing at once. “But what stops someone from sneaking into that map

room and making a carriage go wherever they like?” She bit her lip as if genuinely worried about such a possibility.

“You don’t need to concern yourself with that,” Davis said. “Not only is the map secured by some of the king’s most trusted guards, but other than my father, I’m the only one who can change the carriage routes.”

Madinia linked her arm through his. “Now, that’s a relief.”

I cleared my throat, and Madinia turned that lifeless smile on me. “Setella has an errand to run in the city,” she said. “But you’ll entertain me, won’t you, Davis?”

I’d always wondered how some women managed to purr their words in a way that made males lose their senses. If we lived through the next few days, perhaps I could convince Madinia to teach me.

Davis gave her a dark look that would have worried me if I didn’t know Madinia could burn him alive with just a thought.

Actually, maybe that was what I should really be concerned about. I gave Madinia a warning look, and she smirked at me, turning to walk back toward the carriages with Davis.

“Where are you going, Setella?” a voice called.

I sighed. I’d been so close. I turned to find Pelopia and Alcandre strolling toward me.

“I thought I might go to the market,” I lied. Hopefully they wouldn’t ask to come with me.

Pelopia opened her mouth, but her eyes heated as she glanced over my shoulder. I turned to look. Lorian was walking out of the castle, surrounded by several men dressed in Gromalian colors. Marth was one of them. It was strange seeing his expression so distant, his eyes so bored. As I watched, he waited for Lorian to get several steps ahead and then winked at one of the maids, who gave him a saucy grin.

Lorian turned, giving Marth a hard stare, and I barely suppressed my own grin.

“I heard about how the prince attended to you when you were sick, Setella,” Pelopia murmured.

I didn’t know what to say to that. Any denial would likely just stoke her curiosity further.

“Don’t worry,” she said when I didn’t reply. “I understand. He is a handsome devil, with his long red hair and that roguish smirk.”

My smile froze.

I turned to the man whose hair was neither red nor long. Lorian sent us a wink, playing the part.

I understood now just why the king had allowed him to sit next to him. He was wearing another man’s face.

But for some reason, I could only see Lorian.

Why? Was it because I’d known him before the charm he must be wearing worked?

No. Tibris and Vicer could still see my darker eyes.

Was it because Lorian was a hybrid? I needed to ask Tibris what he saw when he looked at the Gromalian prince.

My pulse thumped as I stared at him, putting the pieces into place. This was how he’d been trusted to go where he pleased and to do whatever he liked in the castle. Could he wear other faces if he chose?

Was the face I knew even the real Lorian? “Setella?”

I jolted. “Sorry. Just thinking.” It didn’t matter. It couldn’t. What was important was that I could see through whatever magic Lorian had used. If I hadn’t been able to, he would’ve known who I was the minute he’d stepped into this castle, and I wouldn’t have known who he was.

I shuddered at the thought.

“We’re going to take a walk on the grounds.” Alcandre said. “Enjoy your time at the market.”

“Thank you.”

Tibris walked past, carrying a crate of wine. I caught his eye and he jerked his head, gesturing for me to follow him. He’d been busier than ever, healing the prisoners at night and working long hours during the day to ensure the king’s visitors had their favorite wines. The dark circles beneath his eyes seemed to be permanent.

I froze time long enough for us to have a whispered conversation next to the cellar. His face drained of color. “The bastard filled it in? What are we going to do, Pris?”

“I’m going to go talk to Vicer now.” “He’s going to say it’s too dangerous.”

“I know.” We were both silent for a long, miserable moment. “I have another plan. I’ll slip you a note once it starts falling in place.”

Tibris nodded. “I’ll do some thinking too. This isn’t it, Pris. We’re not leaving them there.”

I knew what he was thinking. Had we ensured the hybrids were more alert, stronger, healthier, all so they would understand what was happening to them when they walked to their death in a few days?

“No. We’re not.”

I walked to Vicer’s, keeping a lookout for anyone following me—which involved doing several loops past the house, ducking down alleyways, and hiding in door stoops.

Finally, when I was certain I was alone, I knocked, blinking as Vicer immediately opened the door, reached for my arm, and pulled me straight inside.

“Hello to you too.”

He was obviously in a dark mood. Well, I was about to make it darker.

Following him upstairs to the common room—which was surprisingly empty—I took a deep breath.

“The tunnel has been filled in.”

He looked into the distance, and I could practically see him calculating our chances.

Those calculations obviously weren’t good, because he began cursing in at least six different languages, his face growing flushed, hands fisted. Finally, Margie came up from the kitchen and told him to calm down.

I’d told him the same, but he’d ignored me. When Margie gave him that stern look, he listened.

I’d never seen that kind of reaction from Vicer before. But we were all on edge.

“We can still do this,” I insisted, ignoring the way he immediately shook his head. “Margie, are you coming with us?”

She hesitated. “I have a place here in the city.” “The prisoners will need you.”

They were traumatized, half starved. But more importantly, I thought Margie needed them.

Grief flickered in her eyes, and I knew she was wishing her daughter was one of those prisoners. That Rosin been arrested just a few days later and missed the last Gods Day burning. She would have spent a year in the king’s dungeon, but she’d still be alive.

“I’ll think about it.”

Thankfully, Vicer had arranged for Chava to meet me at his headquarters. She was as quiet as usual, but she took care of the lighter hair

that had begun to grow in at my roots.

By the time Chava was finished, more of the rebels had gathered in the common room—all with various thoughts on the worthiness of our plan. Many of them would be helping Vicer to move the prisoners once they were finally outside the city walls—if we managed to get them out. So, I listened, even when most of them told me the hybrids were going to die. When I began pacing, Margie pulled me aside.

“Let me ask you one thing,” she murmured with a faint smile. “If Vicer decided it was too dangerous to get the hybrids out, what would you do?”

“I’d ignore him and try anyway.”

She smiled at me. “Then his thoughts on the matter are irrelevant.”

I raised one eyebrow at her, and she waved a hand. “I love Vicer like he is my own son. But this many rebels means many, many opinions. And you can’t afford to feel any doubt if you’re going to succeed.”

I’d had enough of my own doubts. And they were crippling me. Margie was right. If I was going to do this, I had to believe I could get the prisoners out.

“Thank you.”

Vicer looked up from where he was talking to Ameri. I nodded at him.

He studied my face, and after a long moment, he nodded back.

All I could do was take care of my part of the plan and hope Vicer changed his mind.

It took me twice as long to get back to the castle, but Madinia following me had taught me to be careful. The moment I returned, I asked Daselis to see if Telean would pay me a visit. She sniffed and said the seamstress was an extremely busy woman, but she would see that a message was passed on.

If I didn’t hear back from her, I’d find another way to contact her.

Thankfully, Telean visited before dinner. Her eyes met mine, and even though I had a new necklace, I had a feeling she was remembering the true color of my eyes—her best friend’s eyes—beneath the charm. I patted the spot on the bed next to me, and in a voice barely louder than a whisper, I told her what I needed.

“I will help you,” Telean said. “It will be my honor to give my life for such a cause.”

Give her life? It took me a long moment to understand what she was saying. She thought I was asking her to sacrifice herself. And she was willing to do such a thing.

“You’re coming with us.”

She blinked at that. “You would…want me?”

Did she truly think I would leave her here to die? “You’re my aunt, Telean,” I said gently. “Of course I want you with me. And even if we weren’t family, I would get you out with everyone else.”

Her smile was a beautiful, brilliant thing. And I realized then just how little she’d come to expect from life. From the people around her.

“You’ve been in this fucking castle for too long.” She laughed. “I have.”

She squeezed my hand. I squeezed back.

We were getting over three hundred people out of the dungeons.

Together.

If my brother knew I was trusting Prisca with the amulet we needed so badly—even with a fae vow in place—he would lose his mind.

“Are you sure about this?” Marth asked, echoing my own thoughts.

We stood in my sitting room. Stood, because I couldn’t look at the sofa next to the door without seeing Prisca spread out and moaning for me. Just the thought of the little wildcat drove me to distraction.

I couldn’t blame Marth for questioning my decisions. I’d questioned those decisions myself over and over again.

It had been two days since I told Prisca the tunnel was filled in. Two days since I watched the life drain from her eyes. She hadn’t come to me since. But each glimpse I’d caught of her around the castle had told me everything I needed to know.

Her expression was always thoughtful, eyes distant. It was as if she wasn’t truly here anymore, her mind continually working on her new plan.

The plan that no longer hinged on the rebels. Instead, I featured heavily in her plan, just as she featured in mine.

I would help her save the hybrids, and she would find my amulet. She’d refused to tell me where it was, and even if I could bring myself to torture Prisca until she revealed the location, she would likely freeze time and castrate me if I attempted such a thing.

Pride unfurled in my chest, despite the fact that the wildcat was the biggest inconvenience I had encountered in my plans—and potentially my life—so far.

Ultimately, she was right. If we were to split up and help each other, we could both win.

Despite the risk, I knew Prisca would do everything she could to fulfill her end of the bargain to me. Even if it meant she died trying.

That thought didn’t make me feel any kind of satisfaction. No, it just made me want to slit the throat of the closest guard so there would be one fewer alive when she was hunted tomorrow.

“Lorian?”

I forced myself to focus on Marth. “I trust Prisca to get the amulet.” Marth’s eyebrows shot up. “Who are you?”

I ground my teeth. But I couldn’t blame him for his shock. Just weeks ago, I would have laughed at the idea that I’d trust anyone outside of Galon, Marth, Rythos, or Cavis with anything this important. And yet…I knew Prisca. Knew she would cut off a limb before she left this place without the hybrids in the dungeon below us. Which meant she was trusting me, too.

“If she doesn’t bring the amulet to me, the hybrids die.” Prisca knew she would die herself, but I knew that she’d value those three hundred lives over her own. Which was why I’d informed her of that extra little part of our agreement.

Her eyes had turned wounded at my proclamation. But I had more at risk than she could even imagine.

“Just tell the others of the plan,” I instructed Marth. “This is the only way for all of us to get what we want.”

He nodded, and I turned at the knock on the door. Somehow I knew Prisca was standing there even before Marth opened the door.

She smiled at him, and that strange, feral jealousy crept into my gut. Marth raised his eyebrow at me and smiled back at Prisca, although he was stepping out into the hall within a second.

“Where is he going in such a hurry?”

“Nowhere that concerns you,” I said, that irritation still prickling along my spine.

Prisca raised one eyebrow. “Ah. It’s time for some brooding. I’ll leave you alone.”

I’d caught her hand and trapped her against the door before I was aware I’d moved. Irritation turned to fury. This was never supposed to happen. This woman was never supposed to make me question everything.

“Why are you in such a good mood?” I asked.

Prisca beamed up at me. “Vicer agreed to help. The rebels are back in.” “Now is not the time to say another man’s name.”

She let out a breathless laugh. “I can come back later…” “You’re not going anywhere.”

My mouth slammed down on hers, capturing her moan, as I pushed her dress high, sliding my hand to her hot core.

“Already slick for me. You enjoy making me lose control, don’t you?”

Her next laugh turned into a moan as I slid one finger inside her and then another. She clamped around my fingers, her hips arching, and I scraped my teeth down her neck. She tasted like sweet poison. Like everything I shouldn’t want…and would kill to keep anyway. But she moaned once more—just as desperate for me as I was for her. That thought soothed the worst of my fury. At least in this, we were the same.

I wanted to tease her some more. Enjoyed making her beg. But I needed to feel her. I was desperate with the need to—

“Now, Lorian,” she gasped, and I pulled my fingers free, almost fumbling as I loosened my pants just enough. My hands found her ass, and I lifted her, pressing her into the wall. She opened for me, and I sank all the way to the hilt. There were no words for the pleasure I felt while right here. Inside her. Prisca let out one of those rough groans, and I caught it with my mouth, stealing it from her.

Holding her in place, I thrust, my vision narrowing, until all I could see was her. I let out a growl of my own when she writhed for me, her hands finding my shoulders, my back, her nails digging in as she attempted to spur me on.

“My pace,” I reminded her, and I felt her tighten around me. My laugh was more of a breathless grunt. Prisca loathed being told what to do more

than anyone I’d ever met—except maybe me. And yet here, when I was inside her, she wanted my dominance. My orders made her come alive.

I slammed into her, and she gasped, angling her hips for me, taking me deeper. Picking up the pace, I slid my hand down to her clit, tensing at the way her inner muscles clamped down on me. At the way they began to flutter around me.

I pounded into her, flicking her little nub as her breath caught in her throat. The moan she let out…combined with the hot press of her around my cock, as if she never wanted to let me go…

I came so hard, I had to steady myself with a hand against the wall, grinding my teeth at the pleasure. Prisca shook against me, tiny aftershocks that I wanted to feel every fucking day.

I felt her slowly coming back to herself and lifted my head. Her eyes were at half-mast, glinting amber despite the charm. She opened her mouth, but I took her lips—not yet ready to return to reality.

I’d told her she was mine, but she hadn’t truly accepted it. Soon, she would learn exactly what that meant.