I brace myself, knotting my hands in the picnic blanket for stability. “No.”

“She was trying to save her infant girl. She bared her neck to them, so they would go for her instead.”

Everything inside my chest plummets—every bone, every muscle suddenly weak. Y’shennria never told me. She alluded to it, but it was never said in plain words.

I knew she had lost her entire family, but this level of brutality and sacrifice…

Fione pivots then, slowly, her blue eyes carefully fixed to my boots as she speaks. “She knew there was nothing she could do to stop them. They always come back. They always heal, no matter what injuries one inflicts. She couldn’t fight back.” Fione’s hands, clasped tightly around each other, are white down to the veins. “That is the part I am afraid of. Not the hunger. Not the monstrous form. But the fact that one cannot fight back against them. Against…you.”

the mouse is smart. The hunger laughs. I search for words, any words of comfort at all, but nothing comes. Any attempt would be hollow; I am the monster she fears.

“Fione, I’m asking this as a favor—” Varia works herself to her feet, waltzing over to the two of us with mincing steps. She sloshes some of her wine from her goblet as she stops beside me, sweeping her eyes to the guards. “Leave us.”

“But, Your Highness,” one of the guards starts. “His Majesty has ordered—”

“I know damn well what he’s ordered,” she snaps, then composes herself. “You can still watch us. But you will do so from the firing line.”

She points at the distant line of rails where the shooting range begins. The guard looks to the others, and wordlessly they trot off in that direction. When their metallic cacophony fades, Varia turns her smile back to Fione.

“Give me the dagger, Fi.”

Fione looks up at her, wide-eyed. “What?”

“Our dagger,” Varia corrects. “I want to show you something, and that sword on Zera’s hip will not do.”

“I know it’s a bit rusty, but it still cuts as well as any fancy cheese knife.” I make a feeble attempt at a joke, but it falls flat—it doesn’t make Fione look less serious in the slightest. She warily unsheathes the dagger and hands it to the crown princess, ever careful to stay out of my arm’s reach. Varia inspects it, then hands it to me, focusing her dark gaze on mine.

“If you ever touch Fione, you will immediately find a secluded place and use the nearest sharp object to stab yourself three times in the stomach.” The command and the hunger well up as one in my head. Varia’s obsidian eyes lose their intensity as she turns to Fione with a smile. “There. The stomach should be a painful enough place.”