“What have you done?” Akeylah whispered. Then Father moaned aloud, and she forced herself to move. “Help!” she shouted. The word echoed through the open door, into the corridors. She dropped to her knees beside her father and pulled his head onto her lap.

Andros stared up at her with horrible, empty eyes. He groaned again, a sound like worlds crashing, kingdoms burning. The blackness reached his chin, unfurled across his face.

Akeylah grabbed her own bloodletter and dragged it across her forearm, but she felt nothing. No taste of possibility, no tingle of the Arts. The countercurse had run her dry.

“Someone help!” she screamed again, and finally, finally, she heard running footsteps. “Father, please hold on,” she begged.

He turned toward the sound of her voice. Suddenly, with a surge of energy, Andros grabbed her wrist. His grip was crushing, powerful. For a brief instant, his vision seemed to clear. “Akeylah…”

“Save your strength, Father,” she whispered.

But he dragged her down until her ear was beside his mouth. “Don’t… let her… use you.”

“Who, Father?” She turned to look at him. That’s when she saw it. The moment the light faded from his eyes.

His hand slipped from her arm, and his head dropped backward. She held a palm above his parted lips. No breath warmed her fingers.

Boots crashed into the room. “It’s the king,” someone shouted.

“Call the menders!”

Somewhere, bells clattered. But it was too late. She already knew it, even as someone dragged her away from him, and brown menders’ robes swirled into view.

Only then did she think to look. The rest of the world flooded in, a dream she’d almost forgotten. She spun, searched every corner.

Rozalind was nowhere to be seen.

19

Florencia

The bells alerted her first.

They started to toll before the first star appeared in the sky. Hundreds of bells, all across the city, some large and booming, others high-pitched and too bright-sounding for the occasion. This kind of clamor could only signify one thing.

The death of a king.

Ren launched from her window and snatched up Akeylah’s letter. Reread it, as though her sister’s words could reverse whatever had just gone wrong. Father is well again.

So why this death knell?

What went wrong? Ren wondered. The heir. Rozalind.

Nausea rocked through her. Even though she knew this might happen, even with a week to brace for it, Ren hadn’t really let herself believe they’d lose Father. Not so soon, not without any instructions on how to carry on in his stead. They needed more time.

It isn’t fair. Akeylah reversed the curse. He was improving. Akeylah even hinted he might forgive Ren one day, or at least hear her side of the story. Ren had felt hopeful today, for the first time since being locked in here.

Now it all came crashing down.