Torches lined the walls and without thinking, Helena pulled one of them free, needing to create a distraction. She held the flame to the edge of the giant tapestry spanning the wall, an image of the royal family—king, queen, four princes and one princess. A happy aura clear on their faces. She set it aflame, knowing those people didn’t exist anymore. Maybe they never had.

Flames spread rapidly, and she stood mesmerized by them until her mother pulled her arm. “We must go, Helena.”

They passed the bodies of the two men the queen has slain and peered around the corner at the end of the hall. Voices sounded from the sitting room at the center of the royal family’s wing. A sitting room the siblings spent countless hours in together.

Helena jerked her head that way, and her mother nodded. They pressed themselves up against the wall and inched forward until they could make out the conversation.

“You were never my father,” Cole spat.

“Of course I was.” The king coughed.

Helena’s wide eyes met her mother’s. Father was in there. She scooted forward to peer into the room.

The king kneeled in the center of the room with his hands tied behind his back. Blood trickled from his head.

Cole paced in front of him.

Ian Tenyson sat on the arm of the couch where the Rhodipus children had laughed together and bonded over the years. Where Cole had made promises of protection.

Was everything he’d ever said to her a lie?

“I don’t see Kassander or Estevan,” her mother whispered, pulling Helena back.

“Or Edmund.” Where would they keep the foreign ambassador?

“They won’t kill Edmund. Whatever power Cole thinks he has, he’ll still fear Bela. Madra would have no chance if they retaliated. No, the ambassador will be sent home.”

Helena knew something her mother didn’t. Edmund would never leave. Not while Stev was still here.

Ian’s voice drifted into the hall. “We need to deal with him, Cole. We gain nothing by drawing it out.”

Helena couldn’t help but peer into the room again, her breath coming rapidly.

Cole sighed. “Lord Rhodipus, I hereby strip you of the right to rule.” He bent and yanked the ring from his father’s hand, placing it on his own. “You have betrayed this kingdom.”

“You speak of betrayal,” the king spat. “What do you think this rebellion of yours is?”

Cole looked him in the eye. “Fewer people will be harmed here today than in one of your wars. Madra can be rebuilt. We can be great again as we once were. On our own. Without foreign influence.”

He straightened and held out a hand. A man at the back of the room walked forward and placed a long, thin sword in Cole’s open palm.

His finger’s curled around it. “I sentence you to death.”