“Would you like to come back with us, Allyssia?” I ask. “My earlier promise still stands. You’ve helped my friends and stood up to the rebels when it mattered most. Any past crimes are forgotten.” She blushes, then curtsies, a bit more coordinated this time.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she says. “I would like to go back to Arberly. But—I—”

“What is it?” I ask, gently.

“I don’t have any family, friends, or anyone else to take me in,” she says, eyes lowered in shame. “I’ve lived with the rebels my entire life. I… I might need a place to stay for a few days until I can figure out what to do.” A small tear runs down her cheek, but she wipes it away quickly. I think I see Fionn stiffen beside me.

“We’ll find you rooms in the palace. You can stay as long as you need,” I promise, and that sends her over the edge, sobs erupting out of her. I freeze, unsure what to do and uncomfortable with the emotions of others, but Fionn steps to her and wraps his massive arm around her shoulders, walking her a few paces away.

Shock must show on my face, for Thorne laughs and says, “Underneath that massive frame is a heart of gold.”

I nod as I survey the house and all the gore around us. Most of the rebels at the manor either died or fled. The only people remaining are children and those forced here either by a family member or their own desperation. Thorne took over communicating with them, seeing the way I slumped after the battle and knowing I needed him. He told them that if they abandoned the rebels, there would be no punishment for them, and his words felt right. We still need to hunt down those who escaped who are complicit, but we can deal with that another day.

“Krantz said the mole is the person I least expect,” I whisper to Thorne, unable to keep my worries hidden from him any longer.

“What do you think that means? Could it be Nemesia, after all?” he asks.

“I don’t know. I’ve made so many missteps in judgment, I don’t know what to think.” He threads his fingers in mine.