Our steps echo as we walk past an enormous stained glass window depicting the creation of the Heliana. At the bottom, the first king and queen lift their hands, casting light skyward. Toward the middle is the island herself, lifted by the selfless sacrifice of the king’s ancestors. At the center is a picture of the palace at its finest—a setting sun caught in the prisms of the Glass Tower, casting fiery beams of color into the sky.

King Kharo smiles when he sees me looking at the window. “It’s one of my favorites,” he says.

“Mine, too, Your Grace.”

We come to a stop. Am I in some kind of trouble? It’s a silly thought, but here I am—alone with the king. It has never happened before.

“Sentinel,” he says, “I wanted to walk with you not only because the queen wanted to see you, but for another reason as well. Late last night, as I was briefed on the plans for the city’s defenses, I was told of a missing warrior-elect.”

“Oh,” I reply. “Missing how?”

“Apparently, she has not been seen in days and has failed to report to her station. I’m told that members of her cohort have been questioned, but by all appearances, she’s gone.”

I frown, the king’s words not hitting home—until they do. My jaw goes slack, and the king nods.

“I will assume you have not heard anything of your sister.”

“No, Your Grace,” I reply. “Skies. Gone? Has Storm’s End been checked?”

The king inclines his head toward the queen’s rooms, and we resume walking. His gaze goes to the ground. “Yes, and Matron Talla was just as shocked as you. I have not shared this knowledge with anyone else, but you understand how serious desertion is in an hour like this.”

“I do,” I reply instantly, because it’s true. The last time I saw Ro, we fought. But that alone wouldn’t make her leave. I can’t think of anything that would. She’s talked for years about being a warrior. She’s endured the same training as I have, broken in body and mind only to be rebuilt a stronger fighter. A stronger person.

I realize suddenly that I have been quiet for too long. “Forgive me, Your Grace, but Rowan would never desert.” As I say the words, they ring truer in my heart, like the high celebration bells.

“I don’t mean to burden you further,” the king says. “I ordered news of her absence to be kept as quiet as possible, so you shouldn’t hear of it again. Still,” he says. He stops, and when I look up, I realize we’ve made it all the way to the Queen’s Tower. “I felt you would want to know. I apologize if I misjudged.”