The door slid open. Yates gave her a dispassionate once-over, then unhooked her, yanking her to her feet. Her leg protested and she almost collapsed, but she caught her balance before he towed her from the room.

She touched his arm. “I need to use the collection station.”

He sighed. “I advised the prince to lock you in a black cell, but he wants you close by.”

Remembering the hole in the floor of the cell, the stench, and the cries from the other prisoners, Shyla was glad she avoided that fate. Although that could change at any time.

Yates allowed her to use the servants’ station and then marched her double time to the prince’s throne room. Just like all the leaders from the past, the prince sat on an elaborate marble throne on an elevated dais. Trol lanterns ringed the room, an expensive rug ran from the throne to the entrance, and four water fountains—the most decadent feature—splashed merrily in the corners, the sound incongruous with the tense atmosphere. Colorful tile mosaics decorated the walls around the fountains. It was all very…effective.

She was pushed into a kneeling position on the hard ground next to the throne. Her injury ached its displeasure.

The prince leaned over and met her gaze. “I’m seeing petitioners this sun jump. You will tell me when they’re lying or if they have any harmful intentions. Yates will be right behind you. He’s been looking for an excuse to hurt you, so I’d suggest you don’t give him one.”

Yates unlocked the collar and took it off. The relief at being able to access her magic was similar to the relief she felt in the collection station. It was gross but accurate. Of course, the prince and Yates were protected along with the guards. She wondered where the prince had gotten the platinum. Then remembered, with the amount of wealth he stockpiled, he probably already had plenty.

When the first supplicant entered, Yates pressed the tip of his knife into her shoulder, reminding her of his presence. Shyla did her job, scanning the man’s thoughts and intentions. She considered planting doubts into his mind about the Water Prince’s rule, but she didn’t want the man to try something stupid and get arrested. She could use one to send a message to her people. But what would she tell them?

Time slowed as one after another entered the throne room and either pleaded their case or asked for something—Shyla didn’t pay attention to the details. They all noted her presence, wondering why a sun-kissed was kneeling next to the prince and what it meant for them. Their reactions to her ranged from unease to fear. A few lied and Shyla signaled to the prince with a shake of her head.