Kerrigan’s stomach dropped. She stared at him in shocked silence. He meant it. He meant every word of it. He’d really do it.

“Why?” she managed to get out. “Why do you even care? You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t need to know you, but I know what you’re worth. The lost princess, a Society member, first of her House. The king is on his last leg. My aunt will become a dowager, and there will be infighting if there isn’t a clear winner.” He arched an eyebrow. “Frankly, I don’t give a fuck about you, but you’ll make me king.”

“You’ll never get away with it. I’m part of the Society. I’ll tell them…”

“What are they going to do? They don’t interfere in intertribal wars. You’d be violating their law, and they aren’t going to come to your rescue. From what I hear, you’re on thin ice with them as it is.”

Kerrigan stared Ashby March down. She was just one girl. She had power but not against this. Not against these machinations. He’d had years to figure out how to make this work if she ever came back. He’d never believed her father’s lies, and he’d do anything to become king. Even use her to his advantage.

If she didn’t want to watch the people and place she loved burn, she’d have to do what he said. She didn’t see any other alternative. He had her entire world in the palm of his hand.

“Do you understand?”

She swallowed and nodded. “I understand.”

She understood that she couldn’t go through with this, and yet she had no idea how to get out of it. Her magic spun all around her as fear crept in stronger and stronger. It was the same sensation she’d felt after the capital attack when she was arrested. She’d assumed it had been a fluke, but here it was, swirling all around her.

March was speaking to her, but she couldn’t hear him through the droning in her ears. She stumbled away from him, out of the alcove he’d sequestered them in. March reached for her, but then Fordham’s face came into view. He looked concerned, but March swatted him away from her.

She tried to speak, but nothing came out. The bottomless of her magic rushed up at her, emptying like a sieve. Her vision went black, and she collapsed.

“Kerrigan? Kerrigan, can you hear me?” Darby’s voice said above her.

For a moment, Kerrigan could almost believe they were back in the House of Dragons. Darby was going to brew her one of her hangover-cure healing potions, like old times. Then, she opened her eyes and remembered what had happened.

March.

“Ugh,” she groaned, blinking.