“I’ve brought my prisoners, as you requested. Now, tell me your plot before I cage you with them.”

“Ever…” Edward’s deep voice carried—the arena was dead-quiet. The royals’ voices were magnified like they spoke into microphones. “Grant me the opportunity to make a thing right with you.”

Gathadriel’s wings bristled, and he studied the crowd.

“You may speak of your intentions, Brother. But I do not have to listen,” the queen warned coldly.

“In one day’s time, you’ll face the Crimson King in a battle he has already won once,” Edward said. “But it is my birthright to fight the Crimson King. To be slain by him, if it comes to that.”

Gathadriel’s jaw hardened, his tattoos beginning to quiver.

The Queen of the Pines stood. “You have no birthright anymore.”

“You’re right.” Edward raised both hands. “But I know what will happen to this kingdom if you’re turned back into snow.”

“You think I’ll lose?” Vicious rosiness brushed the queen’s cheeks.

“I think it’s a chance you shouldn’t have to take. I wish to make a deal to fight on your behalf at sunrise.”

“Edward…” Gathadriel cut in; he was at Edward’s side now.

“Wait, Fairy.”

The Queen of the Pines’s dagger-voice seemed to brush up Gathadriel’s back. He reluctantly turned back to the queen, nodding once, then swept out of the way. He whispered to himself, eyes squeezed shut.

The queen reached for a long, branch-like scepter and dragged it down the dais with her, scraping the wood. She stopped, inches away from Edward.

“This kingdom will not accept you as its king if you win,” she promised.

But Edward nodded. “I don’t intend to steal your crown.”

“Really, Brother? I thought my crown was exactly what your allies came to steal.”

Edward’s gold eyes darted up in surprise. “You were always intuitive, Sister.” He stole a look at us, and I felt his glance drive all the way down into my toes.

“The Crimson King will turn you to pinespittle,” the queen said. “And I’m insulted you think I need your aid. But you are right about one thing—this dying kingdom needs me. So, I’ll take your deal.”

Her pale hand came out. I saw Gathadriel flinch, but he didn’t intervene. Edward looked at his sister, and he took her hand. “Deal.” His whisper was almost lost to the wind.

“But I know you, Brother,” the queen cut in. “You will run.” She dropped Edward’s hand and turned her back on him, climbing to her throne as the arena erupted with noise—sticks banging against chairs, silver bells ringing, and cheers flooding the breeze.

Edward’s gold stare followed the queen up the dais, his shoulders relaxing. He nodded.

But I gawked at the Green Prince. The Crimson King enjoyed killing his enemies as much as he enjoyed licking pudding off a spoon.