All Ongrum wanted was Witchik’s freedom. They’d thought the only way to achieve that was with Galen’s death—but Galen had no interest in war. The Skra didn’t have to murder him to bring justice to Witchik; they could work with him.

They could create peace—real, lasting peace.

And they’d start by curing winalin.

Treacherous hope bloomed. Ongrum would be furious at first—but she was a warrior, versed in strategy, trained to minimize casualties. She would come around. Ranka would convince her. She had to.

“I’m going to be a terrible husband, you know,” Galen said, bumping his shoulder against hers. “And that’s going to be weird, right? Us? Married?”

“Ah,” Ranka said, suddenly wildly uncomfortable. “Yes. It’s going to be very weird.”

“About that. I, uh… I have to tell you something.”

Her heart quickened. Don’t, she willed. He’d said once he wanted to be her friend—and they were becoming that, she thought. Don’t ruin it.

“If we marry, I don’t want to do… uh… married-people… things.” Galen tripped over his words. It was plain he’d never been more mortified by something in his life. “I’m really sorry, I think you’re great, but I don’t really like girls and—”

Ranka burst out laughing. “Oh, thank the Goddess. I would sooner die.”

“Hey.” He wilted. “I’m relieved you’re relieved.”

Ranka patted his hand affectionately. “Don’t worry, Galen. I would actually rather fling myself off the cliff than kiss you.”

He rolled his eyes and shoved her. Warmth spread through her. This was the first time Galen had seemed like himself since the attack. She poked him in the ribs, eager to keep his mind off anything remotely related to Foldrey. “Does Aramis know?”

“We’ve talked about it. When they took the crown from her, the first thing she said was at least now she could just be happy and find a wife who wouldn’t drive her nuts.”

Ranka went still. A wife? She had wondered, of course. Had been curious. But it was different to hear Galen confirm it so casually. As though wanting a wife was something Aramis talked about regularly.

She’d certainly never mentioned it to Ranka.

And why would she? the sane part of her demanded. You’ve both been a little busy.

Still. It was… interesting. Not that it had any bearing on her. Or impacted her in any way. She was just intrigued. That was all. It was simply new information about the princess that had absolutely nothing to do with Ranka.

A wife.

Galen gave her a curious look. “Did you know?”

“I had a hunch. I’m sure Percy will be quite happy when you tell him.”

“Percy?” he squeaked. “What does that—I’m not—”

“I didn’t say anything, princeling.” She grinned, and couldn’t help herself. “He is handsome, though. In his own irritating way.”