“Of course,” I say, and she moves next to me, resting her elbows on the edge of the wall. We both face the distance, comfortable in our silence. It’s nice to be around someone who doesn’t feel the need to fill every pause.

More clouds tumble in, the sky turning grey. The temperature continues to climb, resulting in a sticky, cloying mess that makes me even more anxious.

“How’s Tyr?” I ask after a few minutes.

“Asleep,” she says, and I sigh. A gentle hand rests on my arm. “He needs to build up his strength.”

“I know. I just wish—”

“I know.”

She moves closer to me, the heat of her body pressing against mine as the wind tugs at our hair and clothing. The first small patters of rain hit my skin as my arm wraps around her hips almost involuntarily, drawing her nearer. She leans a head on my shoulder and peers up. As I look down at her, our mouths are so close that I can feel her warm breath on my lips.

She smells like orchids and vanilla. Like leather and silk. She licks her lips, and I zero in on the movement, imagining what it would be like to bite down on the lower one. My head moves, and our mouths brush with the barest flutter as my heart flips in my chest.

“Captain!”

“Fucking hell,” I grumble as I look up to find a soldier standing in the doorway. Can we not get a fucking break around here? Hylene looks over and then at me, a small smile playing on her face.

“What is it?” I ask, my teeth gritted.

“Captain. The warders have returned . . . and they have the king.” He shakes his head as if trying to clear it from the lies weighing down every corner of this palace. “I mean . . . the prince.”

My breath hitches like a roundhouse kick to the stomach. It takes me a moment to process those words as I cling to Hylene for support. I’ve been bracing for this moment, but now that it’s here, I’m not ready at all.

I nod slowly. “Take me to him.”

The soldier spins on his heel, and we rush through the palace, emerging into the courtyard. Dozens squeeze together in front of the gate, reaching through the bars, their arms outstretched as they scream for Atlas and his head.

Word of his capture has spread quickly, and they’ve come in droves bearing their metaphorical pitchforks. I scan the parapets, hoping no one gets any ideas of climbing over. Though we repaired and fortified the gate after the last incident, I don’t have enough soldiers to adequately control this.