Fighting the desire to vomit, I remained on the landing long enough for one of the guards to open the door atop the stairs. Doral ceased descending the steps when he saw me and sniffed, then he hurried down them to peer into the next row of stairs.

Finding nothing there, Doral stared at me and frowned.

With my heart pattering in sharp bursts, I climbed the stairs before he could ask questions I wouldn’t answer, and the guard trailed me closely back to the ballroom.

Rorn was standing before his throne, his gaze upon the crowd as he saw me exchange pleasantries with a few nobles. More guards soon hurried me along, and I apologized to the curious guests who’d been waiting to speak with me before returning to Rorn.

He captured my hand to help me to my smaller throne, then retook his seat in his own. “You worried me.”

I whispered, resituating my giant skirts, “Am I not allowed a moment to relieve myself?”

“Of course, but you were gone…” He stilled, nostrils flaring. Ice veiled his eyes as he swung them to mine. “I smell him.”

My mouth opened, and I feigned confusion with a frown. Rorn looked at Rollins, and the guard began to walk over to the dais. But it was too late.

The sea of green revelry parted.

Voices lowered to murmurs.

My ears rang with the ensuing quiet. My blood churned cold through my veins as Scythe stalked through the center of the ballroom with a leg of chicken in hand.

Helvectus, wearing a wet grin and waddling toward the dais, cried out in greeting to his father.

Rorn cursed but scooped him up. Carelda hurried through the crowds at the side of the room but realized she could go no farther. Retrieving Helvectus would cause a scene. Rorn still hadn’t permitted a space at his side for her in any form.

Scythe faltered at the sight of Helvectus.

His calm features rearranged into feral fury until his gaze met mine, and I shook my head—just once. Enough for him to tilt his own and narrow his eye. After glaring at the king beside me, Scythe then understood. He laughed silently as he neared the dais.

Whatever he had planned, he needed to stop before he was stopped.

But the guards were too slow, or perhaps too stunned to act, when the intruder removed his hat and tossed it at Rorn’s feet.

Gasps sounded from some of those watching what was unfolding.

Helvectus, clinging to Rorn’s neck, had stopped bouncing on his lap. He dropped to the dais while Rorn sat like a statue about to crack beneath the sun’s heat.

Hel scooted down the stairs on his rear to collect Scythe’s hat.

Scythe studied him, flashing his teeth as he chewed the chicken.

Rorn finally woke up. “Touch him,” he warned with lethal softness, “and you won’t live to greet another sunrise.”