Rozalind shook her head, hard. “No, Akeylah, I… Andros and I got pregnant once before, a year ago. I lost the child a couple months in. He was so heartbroken, I couldn’t… I couldn’t bear to tell him again. Not until I was certain the baby would survive this time.” She winced. “Then he fell ill, and I thought… Well, imagine the chaos if he passed away and I lost this child, too. Who would inherit? This way, I thought you three could be—”

“Your backup options?” Akeylah hissed.

“Yes,” Rozalind admitted in a whisper.

Akeylah stared.

She wanted to believe it. Wanted to believe the only thing Rozalind had lied about was the baby. That was bad enough. But now… how could she trust anything the queen said?

“Was any of it true?” Akeylah’s lips trembled. “Anything you ever said to me?”

Rozalind flinched as though she’d been struck. “Akeylah. Yes, everything… everything you and I have, that’s true. I should have told you about all this from the start, I know, but I was afraid it would change things between us, and that’s… You’re the only thing in the world I’m sure about right now.”

She shook her head. Took one step backward, then another. “How can I trust you? If you were willing to hide this, what else are you keeping from me?”

“Nothing, I swear—”

“Seas below. Ren was right.” Her heart clenched like a fist. “I don’t even know you.”

Rozalind’s eyes shone in the dim light. “Akeylah, please…”

She never finished the sentence. A deafening shriek interrupted, like the stormwing horns the Talons used on the practice fields, only much louder.

The outer doors burst open. Talons stormed the room. “What was that?” one barked.

Akeylah blinked in surprise. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

The shriek sounded again, closer. It almost sounded as though it were coming from…

“Stand back, my lady,” one guard advised while the other crossed to the window, still hung with heavy blackout drapes, to conceal the king.

The Talon yanked back the curtain.

Outside, the largest bird Akeylah had ever seen perched on the balcony. Its razor-sharp talons curled around the stonewood railing, and it cocked its head to one side, curious. A stormwing. She’d never seen one this close before.

As they all stared, the bird let out another piercing shriek and extended one leg. Only then did Akeylah notice the metal tube tied above its talon.

The guard opened the window and unbound the tube, as though this were perfectly normal. “Message for you, Lady Akeylah,” he said with a glance at the side.

Akeylah stepped forward to accept it. The metal felt cold as ice under her fingertips—probably from the height at which the bird flew, far above the clouds. On the outside, her name was scrawled in messy handwriting. No titles. Just Akeylah.

“Zofi,” she breathed.