She looked up into her father’s eyes. He smiled, teeth blackened with the curse that had killed him. The faint rays of the sun’s rising light reflected off his curse-darkened eyes.

The heir.

Not Rozalind after all.

“Let her go,” Akeylah growled.

“All in good time. She’s my collateral, don’t you see?” His laugh was deep, echoing. It rattled her bones to the core. “You saw what I did to our father the last time you disobeyed me.”

Our?

Akeylah tightened her grip on Rozalind. “I did what you asked me to. Ren rescinded her claim. Didn’t you hear me in the Great Hall?”

Not-Andros’s grin went sharp as talons. “Yes, and for that, I thank you. But that was only your first task, puppet. Now comes your next. Plan a Blood Ceremony for me. The kind fit for a queen.” The sick imitation of her father reached out, as though to cup Akeylah’s cheek. She flinched away.

“Who are you?” Akeylah spat. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because, puppet. You have something I want. My legacy. It’s been denied to me long enough.”

Her mind raced. She glanced down at Rozalind, still breathing, though each inhale sounded labored. What was it Rozalind overheard Father saying, before he died? You’re no daughter of mine. “Are you my sister?” Akeylah studied the apparition’s expression.

If she struck a nerve, it didn’t show. The vision only smiled wider. “I have no real family. I’m the daughter of the moons, and they taught me everything I need to know.”

“Like how to murder your father?” Akeylah replied darkly.

The apparition only laughed. “Like how to clean up Kolonya’s messes. Do you really think Andros was a good king? A good father?”

The vision reached for Akeylah again, and this time, she did not flinch away. She held her ground, body trembling, as ghostly fingers brushed through her hair.

“Hold the Blood Ceremony by tomorrow night. Or Rozalind dies.”

In Akeylah’s arms, the queen inhaled once more, a terrifying rattle in her throat. Her pulse felt far too slow, her body heavy and unresponsive.

“Anything,” Akeylah blurted. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just let her go.”

In her arms, Rozalind went still. Her breathing stopped. Akeylah’s world shrank to a pinpoint. To Rozalind, her parted lips, her frozen expression.

“Good.” Not-Andros smirked. “I’ll see you soon, puppet.” In a blink, he vanished.

At the same instant, Rozalind gasped, and her whole body shuddered back to life. Akeylah clutched her tight. The queen curled against her, and Akeylah pushed damp curls back from her forehead, bent to kiss her cheek, her forehead, her lips. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, over and over. “I’m so sorry. I should have believed you; I should have listened.…”