Where was she? Had Commander Sher managed to get her out without their help?

The treaty was projected toward the dais in a dappling of colors and lettering across the features of both ruling families. It had been translated into both Imperial Tholosian and Evolian, the symbols merging together in a pact that could not be mistaken: from this day forward, the future of their empires would intertwine.

The Ascendant slid her fingertips across the letters of the treaty, until the ridges of her prints had left their impression across the projection. The Archon added his own in a firm smear of a line. He nodded to his son to do the same.

Nyx held her breath as she crept forward, dragging Cato behind her. She had to move slowly, as if she were edging closer for a better look.

Too slow.

She waited, trying to slow the cadence of her breath, the beat of her heart. She had to be careful. Nyx watched as Damocles strode toward the signing table. The crowd erupted in applause.

No, something was wrong. Nyx kept her eyes on Damocles as she moved forward, faster. Where was Sher? He had to do something—

Damocles lifted a hand and the crowd quieted. “Before I sign, I’d like to say a few words. In celebration of this treaty, I’ve come with offerings to reinforce my intent to follow the Archon’s legacy.” Damocles looked at the Archon and bowed at the waist. “And, of course, a gift for my father.” He pointed to the door and beckoned with his fingers. “We have found Princess Discordia, former Heir Apparent.”

Nyx froze and watched as Eris swept into the room wearing all the finery of royalty. A heavy dress in red and black, and embroidered with the scythes of Tholos. Dark feathers were sewn into her bodice, their iridescence catching the light. Red cabochons set in black metal glimmered at her throat and ears, one jewel fastened to her forehead like a third eye. She wore a curved headdress that was dotted with fire opals.

Eris also wore her old face, the fine-boned features of the Servant of Death.

Why wasn’t Eris doing anything? She didn’t even seem distressed or panicked. Had Nyx’s fears been true? Had she betrayed them?

Nyx mentally reached for her Pathos. <Sher? Eris is on the dais and she’s not moving. Tell me you’ve got a plan.>

Silence.

Her heartbeat echoed in her throat. What were her orders?

“Why the hell isn’t she doing anything?” Nyx hissed.

Cato grasped Nyx’s arm. “Look at her eyes. She’s drugged.”

Even from where Nyx stood, Eris’s pupils were so dilated the irises looked black. Her expression was blank. Like a beautiful doll, and just as easily manipulated. Drugged to the gills. She gripped a box in her hands, as red and dark and intricate as her clothes.