The retort I’m expecting doesn’t come. Instead, the mockery slips away, a peculiar solemnity taking its place as he considers the new wound in his arm. “Sometimes I envy you. Your existence is so … simple. You’ve never known family. You’ve never had to shoulder the duty of your elders. No one expects anything of you.”

I laugh, a harsh sound. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“You have nothing to lose because you’ve always had nothing,” he says, although his words lack their usual bite. “People like me, who are too low to hold a title but too high for drudgery? We have to fight for any scrap of power we get, no matter who we have to take it from.”

Is he actually trying to justify the way he’s bullied and terrorized me from the moment we met?

I speak softly, a promise in my voice. “Queen Meilyr claims I’m a traitor, which means I don’t have to follow her rules anymore. I don’t have to bite my tongue and suffer your pathetic inferiority complex. So why don’t you come here and show me how you plan to keep whatever power you think you have?”

Jonyah sneers, all traces of gravity wiped away. “You’ve always talked big, but we both know it’s all bluster. You don’t have any power I would want. I already won the position of Shadow.”

“Who cares about being Shadow anymore? Haven’t you heard? I’m the Soul of Thiy, the Little Sun God. I’m the savior who’s going to destroy the Dead Wood. Queen Meilyr needs me. You? You’re just her pet. Easily replaced.”

His face tightens with every word. It’s so easy to bait him. If only my tongue had been allowed this freedom at the Company. He takes a step toward me and, like a complete idiot, tosses the small knife into the pockets of blackness beneath the trees.

He doesn’t think he needs a weapon. I’m injured, and I’ve lost enough blood to make me light-headed. Besides, he can’t kill me without risking his queen’s wrath. He only wants to break me.

But even though he nearly died at the hands of shamanic magic, he still underestimates them. Still thinks himself better. And even though I’m in pain, whether by my anticipation or the shaman blood inside me, I’m not nearly as weak as he thinks I am.

Behind him, Prince Meilek watches with a fierce glint in his eyes. “Sirscha,” he says. I hear the order in his voice: kill him.

Between one breath and the next, Jonyah attacks.