Akeylah laid back on the cushions and stared up at the ceiling of her father’s bedroom, wondering how in the world she could accept the title of Andros’s heir, when a single week of acting on his behalf had nearly destroyed her.

Akeylah slept straight through the afternoon and into the next day. When she woke, she found a rack of gowns she didn’t recognize, newly made and all in her size. Alongside the gowns were instructions from her father to come to the Great Hall as soon as she was ready.

Akeylah didn’t think she’d ever be ready.

Underneath Father’s message, she found a trio of letters from Ren. No wonder—Ren must be desperate for news. A pang of guilt struck. But Akeylah had been too exhausted to even consider writing until now. Even just skimming the first note, which begged Akeylah to send word about Father, made her head throb and the writing swim across the page.

Akeylah set the letters aside and forced herself out of bed.

The countercurse had taken a toll. She walked with a limp, favoring the leg she hadn’t abused. Her body felt stiff, run dry.

She wasn’t shielded, she realized, belated. Yet the mere thought of lifting a bloodletter made her nauseated. To judge by the dullness in her senses, she doubted she could have managed a tithe, anyway. She had no reserves left; she’d spent everything on Father.

It was worth it. Her heart swelled at the memory of his voice, his smile. Him telling her he was grateful for the chance to know her.

Even the prospect of becoming his official heir scared her less now that Father was back. She’d never experienced this—having a parent to lean on, a role model. She had so many questions to ask him. Now they’d finally have time.

She scribbled two quick, jubilant notes. One to Ren and one to Zofi, the same contents in each. It worked. Father is well again, stronger than ever. I am working to convince him of your innocence. To judge by his conversation about wishing he’d spent more time with his daughters, Akeylah felt certain she could talk him into pardoning both Zofi and Ren, given time.

She sent Ren’s letter with a serving boy, and Zofi’s with a girl who promised to run it up to the aerie. Then she dressed in the least ostentatious of the new gowns, a dark emerald dress with half sleeves that set off her auburn hair to perfection.

If this proved to be her first act as the heir apparent, she wanted to strike the right note. Elegant but not over-the-top.