We turned into the Great Hall, catching everyone mid-dinner. There were people dancing in the middle of the floor, girls looping arms around one another and spinning as Delia Grace and I had so many times in our childhood. Speaking of my dear old friend, there she was at the head table, just to Jameson’s left. She was bedecked in enough jewels to crush a man and laughing as I’d never heard her laugh before at something or other Jameson had said.

Etan and I walked calmly into the room, pausing at the back. It only took seconds for people to take in my face and his crown. The commotion began at the back of the hall and worked its way forward. The dancers stepped aside, and shocked fingers pointed our way. Eventually it got so distracting that the music stopped from the gallery above, and Jameson finally noted us.

He stared at us for a moment, trying to put together how two people could upend an entire room. Then his eyes met mine, searching me over to be sure.

“Hollis? Hollis Brite, is that you?”

Beside him, I watched all the joy in Delia Grace’s eyes melt away, and I hated knowing I was the cause of it.

“I knew you’d come back to me,” he said in a low voice. “In the end, I knew you would.”

Of course you did, I thought. You orchestrated it that way.

Etan’s hand was still under mine, and he ran his thumb reassuringly over my fingers. I took a breath and let go of him.

“Your Majesty, I would like to introduce you to His Majesty, King Etan Northcott of Isolte,” I greeted him, gesturing to Etan.

Jameson’s eyes went wide in delight. “Are you telling me the old man finally died? And Hadrian as well?”

“Prince Hadrian died this morning,” I informed him. “The former king was deposed by his highest-ranking relative and is currently imprisoned for treason.”

Jameson leaned his head back and laughed. He laughed.

“Even better. Oh, Your Majesty, you are quite welcome here. Please, join in our feast! I shall have plates and chairs brought, and we can celebrate the new king of Isolte and the return of my dear Hollis.”

Jameson nodded to the pages to snap to work. I held up a hand, and, to my surprise, Jameson stilled. He stared at me in shock.

“Before anything else, I must speak to you,” I demanded. “There are certain actions that I must have answers for. There will be no celebration between us because there is no peace between us. And I will not dine with you without it.”

He chuckled, tilting his head to the side. “Hollis Brite,” he said sweetly, “I have clothed you and fed you. I have commanded my countrymen and foreigners alike to treat you as a queen. I let your all-but-common head wear royal jewels.” His voice was growing louder as he spoke. “And when you rejected this kindness, when you asked to leave, I let you go without a fight. On what grounds can you possibly claim I have given you anything but peace?!”