Fury twisted through my veins, disconnecting me from myself. It chased away the pain and the fear and the guilt that threatened to swallow me whole until my insides burned hotter than any fire. Distantly, I was aware of my shaking hands picking up one of the discarded torches. Without a sound, I stepped ghostlike toward the prince and the remaining guard and swung with the force of a hundred repressed screams.

Ericen barely had time to dodge before the torch connected with the guard’s ribs. Something crunched, and he wheezed, dropping his torch and crumpling to the ground. I drew back to swing again, my arms burning with the need to strike and strike and strike until the fire inside consumed me.

“Anthia!” Ericen seized the torch and spun me around in one swift move, taking it from my grasp. My chest rose and fell in short bursts, my eyes finding his. Slowly, I became aware of the pressure of his hands on my arms, of Kiva appearing at my side, pushing him away. He barely stepped back, gaze still holding mine.

I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. Kiva tugged gently at my arm, and I allowed her to lead me back into the carriage. I felt like a kite someone had cut loose, left to the mercy of the slightest breeze that could tear me apart. Kiva shut the door behind us. Rather than return to our respective benches, she organized our blankets on the floor, and we settled down together.

I lay there for several hours, trying to remember what it felt like to be safe.

* * *

The next morning, I woke feeling hollow. Several of Ericen’s guards were bruised and battered, and the one I’d struck glared murderously at me every time I looked at him. Was this what it would be like for me in Illucia?

We packed quickly and moved on, Kiva riding close to the carriage. Ericen lounged across his bench as he always did, but there was an edge to him now. The silence turned the air thick with tension, like the moment before a lightning strike, until I couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Why did you stop me from attacking him?” I demanded. “You were doing the same.”

He surveyed me coolly. “Because you’re my responsibility, and I didn’t give them permission.”

“That’s all?”

“Were you hoping for something more?” The ice in his gaze melted, and he smiled in a way that made me feel like a mouse in the claws of a cat.

I hated it. Hated the way it made me feel bared and the fact that I couldn’t shake the voice in the back of my mind that whispered it was a lie. He was deflecting.

“You know,” I said quietly, “you’re not quite so perfect a liar as you think.”

Something flickered across his face, his lips parting, but he said nothing. I allowed myself a small smile.