The brown stone castle was shaped like a hexagon, with six tall towers each with needlelike bronze spires shooting toward the sky. Only one flag billowed from the nearest tower, bearing the Western crest of a ram skull above crossing axes. The palace’s rooftop flickered in shades of green as seven trees shot out from the building itself, their branches billowing like clouds across the gold-tiled roofs. Each of the five palaces in Okrith had the styling of their court, but this . . . Something in Bri’s chest tightened at seeing it. This place was different.

A guard stepped up to the far side of the city gate, pulling Bri’s focus away from the palace on the hill. His eyes widened as he appraised her. “The Eagle,” he snarled, speaking Bri’s nickname with a muttered curse. “You shouldn’t be here.”

A scoundrel ready to seize the crown from the Western Queen—that is what they all thought of her.

“If I had a coin for every time I heard that,” Bri muttered, wiping her brow as the hot midday sun beat down on her. She put on her practiced air of indifference and addressed the guard. “You’re wrong. I’ve been asked to come by Delta Thorne.”

He paused, considering her words with a glower. “The Captain was nearly killed that night. She was probably hallucinating from the pain.”

Bri shook out the sweaty tunic clinging to her chest. “Do I look like I’m riding into battle?”

“You can’t handle the Western sun, traitor,” the guard taunted.

“You get used to it,” a voice called from behind her.

A man on horseback rode up beside her. He was middle-aged with pale skin burned red across his cheeks and nose. He was lean and incredibly tall, sitting straight on his mount. She took in his cinnamon-brown tunic and the totem pouch around his neck—a witch, probably a brown witch, given this was their home court.

“Lady Catullus is needed here. I’ve requested her help.” The witch turned to the guard. “Let us in, please, Lifa. I’ll personally escort her to the castle.”

The guard paused, eyeing the brown witch, and then returned his attention to Bri. He spat onto the dirt but still disappeared behind the sandstone walls to open the gate. Bri’s eyebrows shot up. A fae guard taking orders from a witch? Whoever this witch was, he must be important.

“Thanks,” Bri grumbled.

The bronze gate lurched, creaking slowly upward. Bri leered at the pointed teeth of the gate lifting into the sky. She didn’t want to ride under them, but as the witch coaxed his horse onward, she followed, relieved the gate didn’t come crashing down upon her.

Bri gave the frowning guard a wink and led her horse down the main thoroughfare into the heart of the city.

“I appreciate you doing that,” she said, pulling her horse up beside the brown witch.

The witch dusted his straw-blond hair off his forehead and adjusted his golden spectacles. “That guard doesn’t realize how needed your presence is,” the witch said, casting his sky-blue eyes to her. “I’m Cole, head healer to the royal family.”