“I missed playing cards.”
I smile, then dip my pen in the inkpot. “Well, you are—”
His hands slide down my shoulders, and he leans in to kiss my neck from behind, and I gasp, then giggle. “You’ve been drinking.”
“Perhaps a bit.” His voice is husky.
“It smells like more than a bit.”
“It’s possible we shattered a bottle.”
I turn within the circle of his arms. “What?” I say, but he leans in to kiss me. For a moment it is glorious, because his hands are gentle and his mouth is sure, and he tastes like cinnamon and sugar and something sharper.
But then my stomach has other ideas, and I jerk back and slap a hand over my mouth.
Grey startles, then smiles, and there is something simultaneously soft yet protective all in that look. “Forgive me,” he says.
“It’ll pass,” I say, my voice muffled behind my hand.
“Shall I call for some of your tea?”
I shake my head and swallow, then close my eyes.
I sense more than feel Grey drop to a knee beside me, but then his hand rests over my belly, which has not yet begun to swell and curve with motherhood. He leans in to speak right to my abdomen. “You should be kind to your mother.”
I laugh softly—but the nausea suddenly passes. I snap open my eyes. “It worked.”
A light sparks in his eyes. “He already knows I will not stand for disobedience.”
“Perhaps she simply decided it was time to rest.”
He takes my hand. “Ah, yes. And she would be quite right. It is time to rest.”
I leave my letter and quill on the desk and follow him to the bed. “Nolla Verin says there have been more attacks. That the faction against magic grows stronger, not weaker.”
Grey curls around me, his breath in my hair, his hand resting against my abdomen. “Have no fear, my love. No one will touch you.” He pauses, and his voice gains an edge. “And rest assured that no one will dare touch our child.”
CHAPTER FIFTY
HARPER
I’ve traveled with Rhen to dozens of cities over the last few months, and he was always at the forefront: surrounded by guards, dictating everything, smoothly shifting from cordial and gracious to haughty and aloof depending on the situation. He had a skill for reading people that was almost uncanny. Always a leader, with every action swift and decisive and absolute.
Now we ride at the back. If I weren’t spurring him to keep up, I think he’d let the reins go slack so the horse could amble and graze, and we’d lose sight of the rest of the party. A leatherworker fashioned him with a patch that covers the worst of the scarring. It’s dark, oiled leather, with little adornment and tiny buckles. Rhen wasn’t going to wear it, but then a young child saw him and screamed for five solid minutes, so now he has it with him always. Jake told him he looked like a pirate, which I actually think he meant as a compliment, but I thought Rhen was going to put his sword right through my brother’s chest.
It’s colder today, and snow has begun to drift from the sky to gather in the horse’s mane. Rhen looks at me. “You should ride in the carriage with Lia Mara.”
“I’m worried that you’ll turn back if I leave you alone.”
“I won’t turn back. Grey has given an order. I will obey.”
“He didn’t give you an order, Rhen.”
“He’s going to be crowned king. Literally everything he says is an order.”
I sigh and look at the sky. The snowflakes sting my cheeks.
“Again,” he says, “I insist. You should ride in the carriage.”
“I don’t want to ride in the carriage. I want to ride with you.”
He glances over. “You fell in love with the crown prince, Harper. That is no longer me.”
“No, you idiot. I fell in love with you. You, Rhen. I do not care about your crown.”
“I don’t either, really,” he says simply. He pauses. “But … what else is there?”
I stare at him, somewhat shocked.
But also a little shocked at myself, that I never realized the real basis for all his brooding, his angst, the way he was moving through the castle like a ghost.
The curse is broken. Lilith is gone. Emberfall is no longer in danger.
And Rhen is no longer the crown prince.
He was a man who devoted his life to his people, and now he’s … given all that up. A man who built his entire world around strategy and planning and thought, and now it’s gone.
“You know,” I say slowly, “when Grey yanked me out of Washington, DC, I lost track of any future I thought I had, too.”
He looks over at me in surprise.
I shrug and keep my eyes on the back of the traveling party. “I wasn’t ruling a country or anything. But still.”
“And what did you do?” he says, his voice rough.
“You know what I did.” I pause. “I tried everything I could to get back.” My voice tightens with unexpected emotion. “And then … and then that didn’t work. So I had to figure out a new path. A new future. A new way to move forward.”
He looks at me steadily. “Are you happy with your new future, Harper?”
“Yes,” I say emphatically. “You brought peace to Emberfall, Rhen. You did that. Grey was going to bring war. You gave him peace.”
Now it’s his turn to look startled.
“He missed you,” I say gently. “When I got to Syhl Shallow, he talked a big game about battle and war and how he would protect Lia Mara and her people—but when it came right down to it, he marched into Ironrose Castle to save you. No matter what he said, he was going after Lilith. He was afraid she would use you against him.”
Rhen flinches.
“He didn’t order you to come with him,” I say. “And I think you know him better than that. He asked you to come with him, because he wants you here.” I pause. “Just like I want you here.”
He says nothing.
“Remember when I first agreed to be the Princess of Disi?” I say. “We had that whole conversation where you said I couldn’t help all your people, and I said that we could help some of them?”
“Yes.” He takes a breath, and his voice turns very soft. “And you were right.”
“You can do that now, Rhen. You don’t have to be the king to make a difference for your people.” I pause, as the weight of what I’m saying hits me, too. Snow flurries drift down between us. “Just like I didn’t have to be a princess. I could just … be Harper.”
At that, he looks over at me, and I can see the emotion in his eye, just for a moment, before he blinks it away. But he reaches out to take my hand, and he presses a kiss to my knuckles. “You are more than I deserve.”
“Well. You did say you’d level a city for me.”
I expect that to make him smile, but instead, he gives my hand a gentle squeeze … and lets go.
I don’t know if I reminded him of what he could do as a monster—or if I reminded him of what he can’t do if he’s not the king, but it doesn’t matter.
“Remember when you told me I didn’t have to take anything?” I say. “That I could just ask for it, and you’d give it to me?”
“I do.” His voice is thin and soft, and he’s facing forward, so I can’t see his eye now, and I have no clue to his emotion.
I plow ahead anyway. “Grey would do that for you too, Rhen. If you told him what you wanted, he would give it to you. Just—just tell him—”
“I don’t know!” he snaps. “I don’t know, Harper! I have never been anything else!”
My breath catches. He wasn’t quiet that time, and the soldiers and guards stop short.
He’s the center of attention again, but not for any reason he wants to be.
Grey was riding near the front, but his horse lopes back to us. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” says Rhen, his tone clipped.
Grey looks at me.
I inhale to say the same, but then I stop. “Grey, we�
�re heading into Rillisk, right? This is where they found you?”
“Yes.”
“So you know your way around.” I hesitate. “Maybe for the first few hours you could lose most of the guards and horses, and you could just … not be the future king and his brother?”
Rhen snorts and looks away dismissively. “The guards will never allow it.”
Grey studies him, and then, slowly, he smiles. “Who says they need to know?”
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
RHEN
I have never walked through a town as a commoner. I’ve left anything demonstrating wealth in the carriage, as has Grey. We’re in simple boots, heavy woolen cloaks, with only a sword and a simple dagger at our waist. Tycho trails us through the streets, because he knows Rillisk as well, and I told Grey it was foolhardy for us to walk the streets completely alone.
It’s fascinating, however. The streets are crowded with people who yield nothing to me. No one moves out of my way, no one gives me a second glance. A man brushes against my blind side, and I step sideways quickly, only to nearly collide with an older woman who’s missing most of her teeth.
She grabs my arm and smacks me on the back of the hand. “You keep your distance, you ruffian!”
I stare at her, shocked, and she huffs and moves away through the crowd.
At my side, Grey laughs softly. “I shall remember this moment.”
“As will I.”
A bit farther down, he grabs my arm and tugs me into a tavern, and the scent of baked bread and roasted meat is strong. Tycho follows us in, but he clings to the shadows and stays near the door. The place is crowded with patrons, but we find a table in the corner.
“The boy would make a good guard,” I say to Grey.
“He’s still young.”
“So were you.”
I’ve never been in a place like this, where the ale is flowing freely and the table seems vaguely sticky and the people speak without a moment’s concern for who might overhear. At first, I’m tense, sure there could be a blade or an arrow anywhere, but as I look around, I realize there is nothing to fear.
And I no longer matter anyway.
The thought is jolting at first—but then I discover there’s a bit of freedom to it, just as there was a bit of freedom to following Grey’s order. In doing what I’m told instead of being the one in charge. I take a long breath, then exhale fully for what seems like the first time in months.
In years.
In … ever.
“You look better already,” says Grey.
I frown. “Perhaps.”
A maiden has been flitting from table to table, delivering platters of food and pitchers of ale, but when she stops by ours, she does a double take when she sees Grey.
“Hawk!” she cries with relief. “Oh, I can’t believe it! You’re—you’re—” She breaks off. Her face pales, and she bites her lip. A line forms between her brows. “I—you—Your—Your High—”
“Shh.” Grey puts a finger to his lips. “Hawk is fine.”
She moves closer. “Are you in hiding? Is there a coup? I have heard that horrid Prince Rhen was going to try to kill you—”
I cough. “A truly horrid man, for sure.”
“Not in hiding,” says Grey. “And my brother is not so horrid.”
Her wide eyes turn to me.
I shrug.
She draws herself up and takes a deep breath. “I’ll bring you some ale,” she says finally, decisively. Then, without warning, she gives Grey an impulsive hug, tugging his face into her impressive bosom. “I’m so glad you’re alive,” she says. “I was so worried.”
And then she’s gone.
“I’m going to tell Lia Mara,” I say.
“I will personally kill you.”
“Oh, Hawk,” I tease in a falsetto. “I was so worried.”
“You’re worse than Jake.”
I nod after the tavern girl. “What made you leave that one?” I smirk. “I’m surprised she’s not trailing a little magesmith herself.”
Grey smacks me on the top of the head, and I laugh.
“Jodi was a friend,” he says. “Nothing more.”
“Oh yes,” I intone. “That seems so very likely.”
“It is.” He gives me a level look across the table. “When I was in Rillisk, I was too afraid of the Royal Guard showing up to drag me back in chains.”
I meet his eyes. “Ah. I see.”
We say nothing.
I wonder if there will always be this hum of tension between us, if all the wrongs on both sides have brought us to a point where nothing will fully dull the edges.
But then I think of what Harper said, how she kept fighting to go home, and how that eventually didn’t work.
Is the tension all on my side? Is this my way of fighting to go home?
Do I simply need to … stop?
I look around the crowded tavern. Jodi reappears with two steins of ale. She winks at Grey and says, “Your brother looks so dangerous.” And then she bumps my shoulder with her hip.
I choke on my drink—but I put a coin on the table. Now she winks at me.
“I’m going to tell Harper,” says Grey.
I smile.
It feels good to smile.
I take a deep breath. “I’m glad you brought me here.”
“As am I.” He pauses. “I’m glad you stayed.”
I don’t tell him it was because he asked it of me. Maybe I needed him to.
“I was not raised to be a king,” he says quietly. “I …” His voice trails off, and he hesitates. “I thought of you often, when I was in Syhl Shallow.” His eyes glance away. “I longed for your counsel.” He pauses. “I know … I know this has not been easy for you. I know you were not made to yield.”
I shrug and take another sip of my drink.
“I long for your counsel now,” he says softly.
I look up.
“Syhl Shallow is plagued by factions that stand against magic. Her Royal Houses do not trust me. I do not have your skill with politics or court drama. I do not know your—my Grand Marshals. I do not know this army, these guards.” His eyes are dark, full of emotion in their depths. “I long for your counsel. If you would be willing to give it.”
I stare back at him. A new way to move forward.
I put out a hand. “For the good of …” I hesitate. It’s not just Emberfall any longer. “What, then?”
Grey clasps my hand, his grip tight. “You and me, Brother. For the good of all.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’ve been staring at the screen and crying for a good five minutes now, so that’s how this is going.
I told my husband last night that this is my twelfth book, and I don’t know how to write my acknowledgments without everything sounding repetitive and trite. I am truly grateful to so many people that I don’t just want to write a paragraph and call it a day. (Besides which, I set a precedent for myself. I can’t write long acknowledgments in eleven books and then scribble off a paragraph in number twelve.) My husband said, “Can’t you write about the pandemic? That affected your writing so much!”
And yes. It did. It affected everything and everyone so very much. I’m writing this in August 2020, and who even knows how the world is going to change by the time you have this book in your hands. This has been a hard year, from the sorrow over all the people we lost to COVID-19, to the grief over the goals and dreams that seemed to turn into smoke and ash, to the daily reminder that we truly have no idea what tomorrow will bring.
That’s the bottom line, friends. We have no idea what tomorrow will bring.
So, let me thank all the people who have been here supporting me throughout all the yesterdays that didn’t seem so guaranteed this year.
I’m going to start with my husband, Michael, who’s been my rock during this year and every other year. Recently he said to me that he doesn’t feel like I count on him as much as he counts on me. Oh, honey. I count on you for everything. I basical
ly wrote and edited this whole book while on lockdown with you and three kids. I couldn’t do this without you. I can’t imagine anyone being more supportive.
I also owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to my amazing editor, Mary Kate Castellani, who worked on this book during a pandemic, during her maternity leave, also while on lockdown with children much younger than mine. If anyone deserves a medal, it’s Mary Kate. You always make my writing so much better, and I will be eternally grateful for all you do. Let’s just hope we don’t ever have to write a book this way again, ’kay?
On that same note, the entire team at Bloomsbury is always an endless source of support and encouragement, and I am so grateful for everything you do. Huge thanks to Cindy Loh, Erica Barmash, Faye Bi, Phoebe Dyer, Claire Stetzer, Beth Eller, Ksenia Winnicki, Rebecca McNally, Diane Aronson, Melissa Kavonic, Nick Sweeney, Nicholas Church, Donna Mark, Jeanette Levy, Donna Gauthier, and every single person at Bloomsbury who has a hand in making my books a success. And thank you to the Macmillan sales team for your tireless efforts on behalf of my books. Special thanks to Lily Yengle, Tobias Madden, Mattea Barnes, and Meenakshi Singh for their incredible work on managing the Cursebreakers Street Team.
Speaking of the Street Team, if you’re a part of it, thank YOU. It means so much to me to know that there are thousands of you interested in my books, and I will never forget everything you’ve done to spread the word about Rhen, Harper, Grey, and Lia Mara.
My agent, Suzie Townsend, of New Leaf Literary Agency, has been an absolute rock for me since we joined forces last autumn. Suzie, thank you so much for your time and your guidance. I can’t wait to see what the future holds. Additional thanks to Dani Segelbaum for handling so much behind the scenes.
Huge debts of gratitude go to my close writing friends, Gillian McDunn and Jodi Picoult, because I honestly don’t know how I would have gotten through this year without you both. From reading my manuscripts to virtually holding my hand to listening to me and talking to me and supporting me, I am so grateful to have you both in my life.
Several people read and offered insights about this book while it was in progress, and I want to take a moment to specially thank Reba Gordon, Ava Tusek, and Isabel Ibanez.
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