Anna woke to sunlight.
Dust motes swirled in the air, settling on the wardrobe and desk. The bedroom smelled of woodsmoke. She rose, wincing as her shoulder gave a painful throb. She had a vague recollection of burning — her flesh melting off, her arm pulsating with the heat of a thousand suns — and the sound of Sophie's voice, but she could recall nothing beyond that. Everything was darkness.
"Careful," a voice said. "You're still healing."
Ryne was mixing something by the sideboard; his back was to her, but she could hear the clatter of a spoon striking tin. Anna poked experimentally at her bandaged arm, and the wound gave a painful throb.
Bugger.
Not good, then.
"What's the damage?" Anna asked.
Ryne passed her a tin cup. "You'll live."
Her lips quirked. "Bet you're disappointed."
Ryne didn't smile. "Sophie says that the wound is quite deep. She's stitched it up, but you'll need to apply healing draughts twice a day."
Anna lowered the cup. "Sophie's here?"
"I went and got her myself," Ryne said.
Anna stared. "Why?"
Ryne's eyes were dark emeralds, hard and glittering. "Oh, I wanted her opinion on a new painting I'd bought. She has such an eye for modern neoclassicism." He crossed his arms. "Why do you think? Don't bother sniffing," he added, as Anna raised the cup to her nose. "I haven't poisoned it."
"Well," Anna muttered, "you would say that." She took a sip. The taste of burning tar filled her mouth, and she gagged. "Burning stars. Are you sure this isn't about to kill me? Because it tastes like it is."
Ryne surveyed her. She lowered the cup.
"What?" Anna asked.
Ryne arched an eyebrow. "What?"
"You're looking at me strangely." She resisted the urge to tug the blankets higher. "My arm's not about to fall off or something, is it?"
Ryne's mouth kicked up. "That would be news to me."
Anna took another sip, wrinkling her nose. Not better. Possibly worse. "Lucia certainly knows how to make an entrance, doesn't she? I thought she was going to burst into flames at one point. Really put on a show."
Ryne settled on the edge of the bed. "We're kind of fucked, aren't we?"
Anna leaned back. "Considering that the sword didn't work? Yeah. I'd say that's the long and short of it." She drained the contents of the cup. Her mouth tasted of eggs and acid. "I'm sorry about Isaac."
Ryne shrugged. "It's fine."
It wasn't. She could tell it wasn't. Ryne was lounging on the bed, his dark hair falling into his eyes. But that was typical, Anna thought; he always looked the most relaxed when he was very, very tense.
She set down the cup. "You're still looking at me strangely."
Ryne exhaled. He seemed to have an internal debate, and then he turned, facing her completely. "I'm going to say something, and I need you not to make a joke."
Anna hugged a pillow to her chest. "Depends on what you say."
"And don't run," Ryne added.
"I doubt I'd make it very far," Anna said dryly.
Ryne looked at the window. "When you were in that hospital bed..." The sunlight caught at the edge of his eyes, turning them burnished gold. "I've never felt fear like that before. I really thought you were going to die."
She rested her chin on the pillow. "Must have been a real letdown for you."
"No more pretending, Cidarius," Ryne said, his voice very clear. "I'm in love with you. I'm not ashamed to say it."
Anna stilled.
She was suddenly very aware of the pounding of her heart, of the soft pillow tickling her chin. A bird sung outside, and the fireplace spit and hissed, but it all felt very distant. Removed, somehow. Ryne's eyes were spring chlorophyll, framed by dark lashes. A long scratch split his upper lip.
He'd said it once before, Anna thought, her mouth dry. The night before the battle. But they'd been about to die then, and now...
Well.
They weren't about to die. Not imminently, at least.
"So," Ryne said. "This is the part where one typically says it back."
Anna shook her head. "This is so messed up."
His smile was wry. "Or not."
She hugged the pillow tighter. "There's only one throne."
Ryne raised an eyebrow. "I'm aware that maths isn't my strong point, Cidarius, but fortunately, I am able to count."
Anna stared down at her hands. Her fingernails were caked with dirt. "Are you telling me that you're willing to give up your claim to the throne? Because if not, there's no point in having this conversation. It changes nothing."
Ryne shook his head. "It changes everything."
"How?"
"Because it changes us," Ryne said. "Because it could change the world." He moved closer. "Look me in the eye and tell me that you don't love me, Cidarius."
Shock lanced through her. "What?"
"Say it to me," Ryne said. "If you don't feel the same, then I'll leave you alone. We can pretend this conversation never happened."
He drew closer. She could see the purple shadows under his eyes, the patch of stubble under his chin that he'd missed when shaving. He smelled of peppercorn and something musky. Something that reminded her of the woods after it rained.
"Say it, Cidarius," Ryne murmured. "Tell me you don't love me." He leaned forward, and her heart pounded wildly as his mouth brushed her ear. "I dare you."
A shiver went down her spine. Anna closed her eyes.
"Damn you," she whispered.
She felt Ryne's smug smile against her ear. "I thought so."
Anna grabbed the back of his neck, slanting his mouth to her own. They came together fiercely, just as they always did. It was a battle for control. A war of tongues and lips and hands. She sat on his lap, and Ryne gripped her hips, rocking her body against him. He tasted of tea and the sting of blood where his lip had split.
There were so many men, Anna thought, that had kissed her as if she were made of glass. As if she would break under the weight of them. But Ryne kissed her as if he knew the strength of her. Even now — her arm throbbing, riddled with cuts and bruises — he wasn't gentle. He knew how much she could take.
Minutes passed. Or maybe it was hours. She could never be sure, with Ryne. Anna could feel her body sagging, giving up the fight, and Ryne's hands turned gentle.
Ryne pulled back. "You must be exhausted. You should rest."
His green eyes were dark, the pupils blown wide. Heat burned in his cheeks. His mouth was swollen with kissing, and it made her want to sink her teeth into it. To taste him again. "I'm not tired."
Ryne's mouth quirked. "Liar."
"We have so much to do," Anna said.
Plans. Strategies. Letters. Her head spun with the enormity of it, of the mountain that they were facing. Ryne pushed her back onto the bed.
"It can wait," he said.
He kicked off his shoes, climbing into the bed. Anna stared.
"What are you doing?"
"Staying with you," Ryne said. "Now move over." He gave her a nudge with his foot. "You're hogging the bed."
His arms went around her, the hot muscles tense and strong. He smelled of soap and pine. Strange, Anna thought, her eyes fluttering shut; she used to be convinced that Ryne Delafort was the person most likely to kill her in her sleep. Now, she was almost certain he was the person most likely to defend her.
"Cidarius?" Ryne murmured.
She half-turned. "Yeah?"
"I can hear you overthinking." His arms tightened. "Shut up and go to sleep."
Anna kicked his ankle. Then she turned away so he couldn't see her smile.
***
"I brought comfort scones," Grayson said. "If anyone would like one."
He set a box down on the table. Anna looked up from where she was sprawled on the floor, a map of Stillwater Castle spread out before her. Evening sunlight filtered through the skylight of the Chamber of Justice, illuminating the golden constellations etched into the marble floor. The air was heavy with the smell of incense.
And baked goods.
Lots and lots of baked goods.
"Oh, heavens," Penny said, alarmed. "You were baking? Things must be dire."
She was sitting at the circular table, her hands smudged with ink. Ryne sat beside her; his head was bent low over a letter.
Grayson shook his head. "Maribel made them."
"I can tell," Penny said, stuffing a scone into her mouth. "They're delicious."
Grayson looked wounded. "I'm not that bad at baking."
Penny swallowed. "You once — and I'm quoting directly here — asked if yoghurt could be substituted for butter because they're basically the same thing."
Grayson frowned. "Well, they are, aren't they?"
"I'll have a comfort scone," Anna announced, hopping to her feet.
She peered into the box. There were a variety of heavenly-smelling scones: blueberry, toasted almond, lemon and coconut drizzle... She reached for an almond one, ignoring the twinge in her arm. When she pulled back, everyone was staring.
Anna frowned. "Stop looking at me like that."
"Like what?" Grayson asked.
She popped the scone into her mouth. "Like you're worried I'm about to keel over and die."
"Speaking of which," Penny said, turning back to her letter, "where's Camille?"
"Ominous transition," Grayson muttered.
Ryne looked up from his letter. "She's on her way. Sophie says that she lost a lot of blood, but she'll pull through."
"And where's Sophie?" Anna asked.
She had yet to see her guardian. Sophie had been at her bedside every day — mostly cursing and forcing broth down Anna's throat, according to Ryne — but she'd finally agreed to have a nap. She'd slept for sixteen hours, apparently.
"Doing recon," Ryne said. "With Kane and Seraena." He dipped his quill in an ink pot. "They're seeing if Eris has sent troops to the border. And they said they'd try and pick up a few villagers on the way back. Speed up their journey."
"And Isaac?" Penny asked.
Silence fell. Ryne's quill moved steadily across the parchment.
"I've confined him to the tower," Ryne said, without looking up. "I'm going to ask that none of you speak to him. It's too dangerous."
"As if we'd want to," Grayson muttered.
"I just can't believe..." Penny looked down at her hands. "But he admitted it. We all saw him admit that he's working with them."
Ryne set his quill down. "It doesn't matter now."
"He betrayed us," Penny said.
Ryne folded the letter. "I'm aware."
His face was calm. Too calm, Anna thought, as if Ryne was barely holding himself together, although she doubted the others would see it that way. Penny looked as if he'd slapped her across the face.
"What matters," Ryne continued, sealing the letter with wax, "is figuring out what information Isaac has already passed on to Lucia. Troop positioning, battle strategies, entry points into Stillwater Castle..." He set down the seal. "He knew about all of it. Which means Lucia knows, too."
Grayson knelt by the map of the castle. "We'll have to reinforce the entrances. Change the layout as much as we can."
Ryne inclined his head. "Exactly."
"Wait." Penny bit her lip. "You think Lucia will attack us here?"
Ryne added the letter to a pile. "We possess the one weapon in the world that's allegedly capable of killing her. Wouldn't you?"
Anna chewed her scone. The almonds were fresh, and the nutty flavour reminded her of a cake that Henry used to make for Sophie's birthday every year, a coffee-and-walnut tower. Her chest tightened. Just another reason, she thought, that she couldn't wait to drive a sword through Lucia's chest.
A thought occurred to her.
"He doesn't know about Eris," Anna said.
Three heads turned to look at her. She polished off the scone.
"Isaac," Anna clarified. "He doesn't know that Eris can't see out of his left eye. I never told him."
Not because she didn't trust him, but simply because it had never come up. And thank gods it hadn't. Ryne rubbed his forehead. "Well. That's something, at least."
"I just can't believe this," Penny murmured. "It's Isaac. He's family. He'd never hurt us on purpose."
"He hasn't," a voice said.
They turned to face the door.
Camille stood on the threshold. She was dressed in a thin nightgown that hung off her frame, and one hand was pressed heavily against a walking stick. The other cradled her bandaged side. And tucked under her arm, Anna noted, was a letter.
She opened her mouth to ask what it was. Then Camille spoke, and Anna immediately forgot what she was going to say next.
"He hasn't betrayed us," Camille said, "because Isaac is being possessed."