Lucien’s on edge in a way I’ve never seen before, not even when I revealed my monster form in the clearing, and I nervously start after the two of them. One of his Goldblood families, killed. Then he’s found out about Tarroux. He’s never had any love for the nobles, but neither is he the sort to ignore the injustice of death. And Tarroux—the last time I saw them walking the garden together, he’d managed a small, amused smile at her. My unheart sinks. No wonder he looks so strained.

Yorl struggles to twist out of the armlock, his celeon limbs with their extra bones and sinew maneuvering like flowing water from Lucien’s grasp. Yorl flattens his yellow ears to his head, pulling back his gums to show all his teeth.

“My name is my own. Cross me again, and we will see who bleeds easier.”

“Stop it!” I flail my arms between them. “Both of you. Lucien, this is Yorl. Yorl, this is Prince Lucien.”

Yorl freezes as Lucien narrows his eyes further at him. “Your Highness? In that gaudy getup?” He pauses, looking down. “With pants that tight?”

“It’s better than no pants at all,” Lucien snarls. Yorl shifts in his robe, his barely formed hackles raising straight off his neck in a golden ridge.

“I’m not a naked ape,” Yorl fires back, “who needs them to begin with!”

The competitive pride is so thick I can practically smell it. People are staring. I clap my hands as loud as I can, like I’m trying to break up a feral-dog fight.

“That’s enough,” I snap. “If you two are going to act like rampaging babies with full diapers, the least you could do is be considerate about it.”

Lucien flinches, his eyes roaming over the staring crowd. Yorl’s ears go even flatter on his head, his tail thrashing over the cobblestones. I let go of them both and they straighten, still glaring daggers at each other.

“There was a valkerax under the city!” Lucien demands. “Why? What were you doing to it?’

Yorl shoots me a look, and the words go unsaid; no matter what, Lucien can’t interfere anymore. The blood promise is with me. There’s no real benefit in lying or deceiving anymore, and that thought alone lifts a weight off my chest.

Yorl dusts his shoulders begrudgingly. “I was studying the valkerax for roughly eight days.” The celeon shrugs. “But you don’t have to worry about that anymore. It’s gone for good.”

The crowd slowly starts diverting their attention from us and, determined to keep heading for the palace and my heart, I pivot and continue walking, making sure my pace is near impossible to keep up with. The boys trail after me fervidly.

“You’re a real polymath?” Lucien finally asks Yorl.