Akeylah’s frown deepened. “I’d be flat on my back for weeks if I did what she did—cursing Rozalind and making me hallucinate at the same time? But the heir is a lot stronger than me. Or any of us.”

“But if I went looking for her now, do you think she’d still be visibly weakened?” Ren pressed.

“You’d have to know who you were looking for,” Zofi broke in. “We can’t exactly canvass the entire Keep trying to guess which distant relation looks the sleepiest. Any more than we can order them all to strip and show us if they’ve got Vulgar Arts scars.”

Ren glanced to Akeylah. “How visible are the scars? I mean, do they show through fabric?”

In response, Akeylah drew her skirts up. The faint blue glow on her thigh pulsed with her heartbeat. “You have to wear dark colors or very thick fabric, I’ve found.”

Ren shut her eyes. Squared her shoulders, as though deciding something. When she opened her eyes again, they locked on Zofi. “Would you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

Ren’s gaze drifted toward Zofi’s hip. To her knife. “I think I know where to look. But I’ve a feeling I might need some backup.…”

26

Florencia

The maids’ quarters were empty at this hour. Ren’s footsteps echoed across the familiar floors as she crossed to the large chalkboard where Oruna marked the girls on duty and their current assignments.

How did I not see it sooner?

But how could she have? How could she have guessed about Andros and Yasmin, how far they’d go to bind themselves, all the havoc they’d wreak in doing so?

A girl about her own age. A girl ostracized by her parents, who longed for their approval, their recognition. A girl who grew up with their voices inside her head, believing she deserved the throne. A girl who had to watch it offered to others on a gilded platter while she remained in the shadows.

The last ugly skeleton hidden in the family closet.

The daughter of the moons. Who knew how to clean up Kolonya’s messes.

It’s the moons who favor girls like us, they always said when they snuck around the Keep. After they’d finished cleaning up the nobles’ messes. This is madness, part of her whispered. And yet…

Ren had always felt like the heir hated her more than her sisters. Maybe it was just the drowning in the baths, or the way the heir kept insisting Akeylah put her on trial, but to Ren, it felt personal.

What if it was? What if the heir hated Ren because they’d known all along who she was? Because they were in the exact same situation, until only Ren was raised out of the shadows.