“Prena, the king cannot let his son die. He’ll need to ask for the Four Kingdoms’ permission to offer peace again, maybe make the deal even more enticing to General Marchess. But skies know how long that will take to get a message sent and returned.”

“That will take forever,” I say, my heart racing with a sudden, new realization. “The warriors who were sent don’t know about the prince.”

“No. But for a child, they wouldn’t need much,” Noam says. “The humans I spoke to have a saying: ‘A petal a year, a stem a season.’ Tabrol would need less than one flower to live.”

Less than one flower for the lifeblood of our city, for our entire future. Every Leonodai from child to elder knows the royal line has to remain strong; otherwise, the Heliana will fall. The scholars—and my mother, since she taught me herself—drilled that into my skull since I was a girl.

Everything I’ve worried about is true and yet is also worse than I feared. I’ve never thought about how they must pick and chose information like choosing fruit at the market. They only tell the city what they want us to hear.

I have to get to Shirene. I have to apologize for yesterday, then tell her that I know everything. I can try to convince her that the other warriors and warriors-elect—skies, even the citizens—need to know the truth.

Loud voices sound from the hallway like an old bickering couple. But I recognize the stern tone of Sentinel Renna.

“I have to go,” I say, then immediately realize that the only exits are the hallway and the window.

Launching ungracefully out of the chair, I push myself over the windowsill and out onto the outcropping below. I duck to the side just in time. The hinges of the door let out a blaring squeak as it’s pushed open, and I’m about to fly away when Renna’s angry shout hits my ears.

“How dare you lie to us!” the Fourth Sentinel snaps. “You said the disease takes ten days. Ten. The healers have just told us another child who only became sick five days ago has died.”

The wind buffers me, pushing me against the palace walls. I look skyward, heart drumming, hoping that no patrol is circling above me. My dress flies up in a flurry around my knees, and I grab at it, bunching it in my hand to keep it from giving me away.

I should go. I should absolutely go. And yet … I don’t. Closing my eyes, I listen hard toward the room behind me. Noam has given me part of the truth. Something in my gut says I am about to get the rest.

“I didn’t lie,” Noam protests earnestly.

“Then your human friends were not honest,” Renna replies. Her voice is heavy with rage.