Her rightness about me hurts worse than the three stabs—far worse, as if they’ve blown through my flesh and left gaping holes ten times their size. I will leave. I have to leave; there’s nothing for me here anymore, just people I’ve hurt and betrayed and left bleeding trust all over the floor.

But the crown prince of Cavanos has never known when to give up.

“What are you making her do?” he demands.

“Luc, I love you,” Varia says, and I can hear the swish of her stiff skirts as she stands. “But that’s between her and me.”

There’s a beat, and then Lucien says, “Undo her command about Fione.”

Varia laughs. “When did you get hard of hearing? Was it while I was away? You know as well as I that Fione is terrified of Heartless, and I’m going to do everything in my power to—”

“Undo her command about Fione,” Lucien says again, ironclad. “Or I will tell Father what you are.”

I feel my face go cold. He wouldn’t…for me? Varia might be his sister, but she’s still a witch, the most powerful witch I’ve ever met. He’s making an enemy out of her—his beloved sister—just for my sake! And I won’t have it.

I stumble through the doors. “New God’s bulging tit!” I brace myself from falling on the back of a couch and blink my eyes at Varia and Lucien. “Oh my! Is that an interrupted argument I smell, or did I step in something on the way back?”

As the d’Malvane siblings glare at each other—Varia sharp and Lucien fiery—I spot another decanter of wine and snatch it up gleefully.

“Princess Varia.” I sink onto the couch and tip a little wine into my mouth sloppily. Nothing like a slovenly drunk to defuse a situation. “I’m starting to run out of those dresses you gave me. Any chance I could get some new ones? Stop me if you’ve heard this one before: covered in diamonds, made of the purest Avellish silk, and all black so I can bleed without panicking the entire palace.”

Still the d’Malvane siblings stare at each other, like two street cats posturing defiantly against each other. Finally Lucien breaks off, walking out of the room with clipped strides. He passes just shy of touching me on the couch, and I linger weakly in the clearwater smell of him. I’m almost weak enough not to notice the scent of white mercury following it. Almost. Has he been hanging around polymaths often or something?

When the click of his boots on the marble fades, I look to Varia. “Is everything okay?”

Varia turns back to her makeup boudoir calmly. “You were outside the door. You tell me.”

I scoff. “Do you always know where I am?”