Lysander makes his way down the steps, followed closely by Damon, who moves like a wraith.

“She’s a prisoner of Victory. She should remain in Victory, until I say otherwise,” Caelan says, firm.

Ettore snarls. “Your Majesty knows where I stand. She should have her time in War, just like everyone else who refuses submission.”

Queen Ophelia turns to her eldest children, waiting.

“I believe Prince Caelan is right. Our courts should be our own responsibilities,” Damon says, bowing slightly. Blue braids cascade down his shoulders, and flecks of pink and blue flicker across his temples like fish scales. When he looks at me, his violet eyes seem to absorb my soul.

Lysander’s voice is smooth and deep, his gold headpiece towering like antlers. “Our tradition demands that humans who are aware and able to fight back are sent to War. And I am a believer in tradition.”

Ettore’s smile widens, snakelike. Caelan doesn’t move.

“However,” Lysander begins, and I sense the tension in the youngest princes. “The aim of breaking a human in War has always been to send them to Victory. But with the advances in Death and Victory’s most recent success, perhaps we need to forget tradition and look to the future.”

Ettore shakes with fury. “This is why you sent so many humans to Death. To align your courts,” he accuses, golden eyes fixed on Caelan.

Caelan barely glances at him. “If only you hadn’t been so greedy all these years, unwilling to send Death even a single human of your thousands.”

“You broke the very trade agreements our courts were founded on,” Ettore says with disgust.

“No—I created a new one. The courts are changing,” Caelan replies dangerously. “If you don’t find a way to evolve, you’ll end up ruling over nothing but ash and bone.”

“Better that than not ruling at all,” Ettore lashes back.

“Enough,” Queen Ophelia cuts in, eerily calm. She regards Lysander for a moment. “You suggest an alternative?”

He nods. “Death will host the human. Her consciousness will be separated from her body, and she will remain in isolation, where she will be no one’s burden.”

I pull my face back, stricken. They’re going to make me like Philo. They’re going to put me in a cage. And they’re going to leave me there until they figure out how to make my death permanent.

My insides coil and the sick rises through me.

Is this how it’s going to end for me?

“What of the other humans in the Winter Keep?” Ettore frowns, displeased.

Lysander nods. “There is room for all of them in Death too.”

Damon blinks, his unnatural eyes like a water spirit emerging from an abyss. “What you’re suggesting is an end to Victory. Without aware humans, the court would serve no purpose.”

“Has it ever?” Ettore asks haughtily.