Bri scanned over her once friend and lover. Delta was as proud as anything. To call Bri to help her was so shocking that Bri had come straightaway, and now it was clear why. Her injury might never heal. Delta had watched her best friend and future Queen—someone she swore an oath to protect—almost die in front of her.

“Abalina won’t be happy about me staying here,” Bri warned. “She won’t want me protecting her.”

“She will let you stay, for me,” Delta assured. “I’m not asking you to stay for long. Just help me find my aunt’s killers, and then you can gallivant off wherever you see fit.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Carys hissed.

Delta rolled her eyes and then looked back at Bri. “Please?”

The pleading in her voice made Bri rock back on her heels. This wasn’t the Delta she knew. The warrior was broken both in body and spirit, her fear a tangible current in the air.

“We will help you until you get better and then we will go.” Bri released a long sigh. “And you make sure your people know that I do not intend to stay.”

Delta hung her head. “Thank you.”

Bri looked down at the ornate dagger, flipping it over in her hands. She would give them a few weeks and then she’d leave to compete for the Eastern Court crown.

Tipping her head to Carys, Bri led her friend out the door. They were hunting masked assassins and a deranged prince with violet witch magic. She snorted at the absurdity. A twinge of sorrow shot through her as she thought of the first person she wanted to tell—Talhan. He’d loved riddles and mysteries as a child. This would have been the perfect mission for him. They’d had so many adventures together: sneaking off into towns, pretending to be each other when they were little enough to look identical. They’d invented their own language, a mixture of words and actions that infuriated their mother to no end, but even a singular look exchanged between the two of them could be a whole conversation.

She shook the memories from her mind. She had work to do.

* * *

The pungent smell of herbs filtered down the hall, growing overwhelming as Bri and Carys neared the door. The healer’s office was in the basement near the kitchen cellars. Thin windows lined the halls above their heads, sunlight beaming across the low ceilings. Bri considered the narrow rectangular panes. Too small for someone to fit through.

“Bloody brown witches,” Bri said, pretending to gag on the smell.

“Behave,” Carys chastised. “The sooner we figure out what’s going on, the sooner we can get out of here.”

She rapped twice on the door.

“Enter,” a voice called.

She pushed the door open to find Cole bent over a large work desk. He peered through a magnifying glass held up on a silver stand. His magnified eyes flitted up to Bri, and he stood.