Lina’s eyes flicked up, and Bri realized she was gawking at her. Her cheeks burning, Bri darted her gaze away, toward the head of the table. The Northern Queen cocked an eyebrow at her, not missing a thing, and Bri rolled her eyes at the smug look on Rua’s face.

“I’ve heard from Bern this morning,” Remy said, pulling the many little conversations into one. “He should be arriving tomorrow, along with the Heir of Saxbridge and Queen Emberspear.”

A flash of lightning strobed through the shut curtains and thunder rumbled through the room a moment later. The wild spring weather lashed at the shuttered windows.

“Queen Emberspear?” Lina said with a chuckle, ignoring the storm. “Have you locked up the armory and the wine cellar? Perhaps the apothecary too?”

The group laughed, giving knowing nods. Wherever the Southern Court Queen went, a trail of depravity would inevitably follow.

“I should probably warn our brown witch healer,” Renwick muttered, the muscle on his cheek popping out.

“Evie can handle it,” Rua said with a wave of her hand.

“Bern told us that the library was sacked.” Remy’s tone grew apologetic as she looked at Cole and then Aneryn, noting the two witches at the table. “Most of the books survived, but it seems like they were looking for something.”

“They were looking for Lina,” Bri growled.

“Then why bother with the library?” Rua asked.

“Frustration?” Carys offered. “Who knows. They were so close to hitting the shore before we got out of there. I’m just glad they were spotted before it was too late.”

Remy shuddered, shaking her head. “Augustus Norwood always seems one step ahead.”

“You give him too much credit,” Hale snarled. “This plot is not his doing. He’s just the puppet of someone else.”

Bri nodded in agreement. She’d known the spoiled princeling his entire life, just as Hale had. She understood Hale’s relief at learning he wasn’t in fact related to the fallen Eastern King. His mother was having an affair—with her Fated of all people—and Gedwin Norwood had conspired to keep them apart. When the King’s blue witch oracle prophesied that Hale would be Fated to a High Mountain Princess, Gedwin had claimed Hale as his son in order to profit off the union. Gedwin had allowed the Catullus family into his court for the same reason: he was betting on all the future rulers of Okrith before they were even crowned. Of Gedwin’s two legitimate heirs, Bellenus and Augustus, only Augustus remained. The pompous Prince was the perfect figurehead for someone else to use to attain power—it was easy to inflate his ego and steer him in their own devious directions.

“Augustus surrounds himself with powerful magic,” Aneryn said, her eyes flickering a shade of sapphire. “Whoever is wielding it is probably the one pulling his strings. Whenever I try to See him, all I see is purple smoke.”