A muscle feathered in the boy’s jaw. “You tell me, Princess. An ambassador from the Star Isles lands on our shores for the first time in decades—and suddenly the Bloodwinn is found. Suddenly there are blood-witches in our streets, killing our livestock, snatching our dogs.”

Percy raised a hand in caution. “I seek the same as you—an end to this nightmare.”

“Liar. Your people wanted this nightmare.” He jerked his chin at Aramis. “And you—you and that brother. You don’t care. You just let us die. You witch-loving Sunras deserve to burn with them—”

“Enough,” a new voice snapped. It had the lilt of Yaris, an eastern city that teetered on the edge of swamplands ruled by the Murknen coven. “Let her highness go, Edon.”

Three more humans entered. All wore gold pins.

What is going on?

A woman with terra-cotta skin marred by burn scars stepped forward. She was older and, from the confident cruelty in her eyes, the leader. “Take his advice, princess. Leave the boy and the corpse with us, and keep your life while you still can.”

Percy’s throat bobbed. “Go, Aramis. I’ll be fine.”

“Percy,” Aramis grated. “Shut up.”

The Yaris woman snapped her fingers. White-blue sparks puffed into the air, and electricity threaded down her wrist. “Do as he says, Princess.”

Let Percy die, Ranka willed Aramis. If you have any sense, you’ll let him die.

Percy was expendable—but Galen was Aramis’s blood. They needed each other, and he needed her, that much was already clear. Surely Aramis knew this. Surely she would do anything to protect her brother who was set to inherit a cruel, wide world.

Ranka knew better than anyone what it meant to love a sibling so much that reason and right no longer mattered, so long as they were safe.

Aramis lifted her chin. “Percy, hand me a knife.”

You proud fool.

The blond boy raised his weapon—and Ranka lunged.

She leapt from behind the door and seized the boy by the back of his neck, jerking him off his feet. He cried out, flailing, but Ranka wrapped her forearm over his mouth, used her free hand to catch his wrist, and jerked it in the wrong direction. The bones broke with a crunch. He screamed against her arm, and Ranka pressed his blade to the soft hollow of his throat.

She could feel Aramis’s and Percy’s stares, but her eyes were only for the Yaris woman.

“That sick witch,” Ranka said slowly. “What happened to her?”

The Yaris woman raised a dark brow. Though she wore an air of calm, Ranka could scent the fear spiking in her. “We’re as clueless as you are.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not—”