One of the Atlantians stepped forward as we reached the top of the steps. It was Emil, his auburn hair redder in the torchlight as his gaze slid from Casteel to me. His nostrils flared as his throat worked on a swallow. His handsome face paled slightly as he clasped the hilt of his sword, bowing slightly at the waist. “I am relieved to see you here, Your Highness.”

I gave a small jerk. The use of the formal title caught me a little off guard, and it took me a moment to remember that as Casteel’s wife, that was my formal title. It had nothing to do with the whole issue with the Crown. “As am I,” I said, smiling. Another ripple of shock came from Emil as he looked at me as if he couldn’t quite believe I was standing there. Considering the state I had been in the last time he’d seen me, I couldn’t blame him for that. “Thank you for your help.”

The same look Naill had given me earlier when I’d thanked him crossed the Atlantian’s face, but he inclined his head with a nod. He turned to Casteel. “Your father is inside and isn’t exactly thrilled.”

“I bet,” Casteel murmured.

One side of Emil’s lips curved up as Naill joined us. “And neither are the handful of Atlantians and mortals who found their way here, attempting to free Alastir.”

“And how did that go?” Casteel demanded.

“It was a little…bloody.” Emil’s eyes glowed in the torchlight as he looked at his Prince. “Those who are still alive are being kept with Alastir for your…enjoyment.”

A tight, dark smile appeared as Casteel tipped back his head. “Has anyone else become aware that my father’s being held here?”

“No,” Emil answered. “Your mother and the Guards of the Crown believe he is still with you.”

“Perfect.” Casteel looked over at me. “Ready?”

I nodded.

Emil started to step back but stopped. “I almost forgot.” He reached to his side and under his tunic. I stiffened at the low rumble of warning as Jasper took a step forward, his head lowering. Casteel shifted ever so slightly beside me, his body tensing. The Atlantian shot a nervous glance over his shoulder at the large wolven. “This belongs to her,” he said. “I’m just giving it back.”

I looked down to see him withdraw a blade—one that gleamed reddish black in the firelight. Air lodged in my throat as he flipped it over, offering me the bone handle. It was my bloodstone dagger. The one Vikter had gifted me on my sixteenth birthday. Other than the memories of the man who risked his career and most likely his life to make sure I could defend myself, it was the only thing I had left of him.

“How…?” I cleared my throat as I closed my fingers around the cold wolven bone. “How did you find it?”

“By pure luck, I think,” he said, immediately stepping back and nearly bumping into Delano, who had silently crept up behind him. “When I and a few others went back to look for evidence, I saw it lying under the blood tree.”