She herself didn’t know what had happened to her eye.

But no one knew it was fake.

Lila dragged her fingers through the water one last time.

So much for that secret, she thought.

And she was running out of ones to keep.

“What now?” she asked, turning toward the boy. “Do I get to inflict wounds on someone else? Make some trouble? Challenge this Osaron to a fight? Or shall we see what Kell is up to?”

As she ticked off the options, her fingers danced absently over her knives, one of which was missing. Not lost. Simply loaned.

Hastra held the door for her, looking balefully back at the abandoned cup.

“Your tea.”

Lila sighed and took up the silver cup, its contents long cold.

She drank, cringing at the bitter dregs before setting it aside, and following Hastra out.

V

Kell didn’t realize he was looking for Lila, not until he collided with someone who wasn’t her.

“Oh,” said the girl, resplendent in a green-and-silver dress.

He caught her, steadying them both as the Veskan princess leaned into him instead of away. Her cheeks were flushed, as if she’d been running, her eyes glassy with tears. At only sixteen, Cora still had the long-limbed gait of youth and the body of a young woman. When he first saw her, he’d been struck by that contrast, but now, she looked all child, a girl playing dress-up in a world she wasn’t ready for. He still couldn’t believe that this was the one Rhy had been afraid of.

“Your Highness.”

“Master Kell,” she answered breathlessly. “What is going on? They won’t tell us anything, but the man on the roof, and that awful fog, now the people in the streets—I saw them, through the window, before Col pulled me away.” She spoke quickly, her Veskan accent making her trip over every few words. “What will happen to the rest of us?”

She was flush against him now, and he was grateful he’d stopped at his own room to put on a shirt.

He eased her back gently. “So long as you stay in the palace, you will be safe.”

“Safe,” she echoed, gaze slanting toward the nearest doors, glass panes frosted with winter chill and streaked with shadow. “I think I’d only feel safe,” she added, “with you beside me.”

“How romantic,” said a dry voice, and Kell turned to see Lila leaning against the wall, Hastra a few strides behind. Cora stiffened in Kell’s arms at the sight of them.

“Am I interrupting?” asked Lila.

Cora said “yes” at the same time Kell said “no.” The princess shot him a wounded look, then turned her annoyance on Lila. “Leave,” she ordered in the imperious tone peculiar to royalty and spoiled children.

Kell cringed, but Lila only raised a brow. “What was that?” she asked, strolling forward. She was half a head taller than the Veskan royal.

To her credit, Cora didn’t retreat. “You are in the presence of a princess. I suggest you learn your place.”

“And where is that, Princess?”

“Beneath me.”

Lila smiled at that, one of those smiles that made Kell profoundly nervous. The kind of smile usually followed by a weapon.

“Sa’tach, Cora!” Her brother, Col, rounded the corner, his face tight with anger. At eighteen, the prince had none of his sister’s childlike features, none of her lithe grace. The last traces of youth lingered in his darting blue eyes, but in every other way he was an ox, a creature of brute strength. “I told you to stay in the gallery. This isn’t a game.”

A storm cloud crossed Cora’s face. “I was looking for the Antari.”

“And now you have found him.” He nodded once at Kell, then took his sister’s arm. “Come.”

Despite the difference in size, Cora wrenched free, but that was the sum of her defiance. She shot Kell an embarrassed look, and Lila a venomous one, before following her brother out.

“Don’t kill the messenger,” said Lila when the two were gone, “but I think the princess is trying to get into your”—her gaze trailed Kell up and down—“good graces.”

He rolled his eyes. “She’s just a child.”

“Baby vipers still have fangs….” Lila trailed off, swaying on her feet, the gentle rock of a body trying to find balance. She braced herself against the wall.

“Lila?” He reached to steady her. “Have you slept?”

“Not you, too,” she snapped, flicking a hand dismissively at him and then back toward Hastra. “What I need is a stiff drink and a solid plan.” The words tumbled out in their usual acerbic way, but she didn’t look well. Blood dotted her cheekbones, but it was her eyes—again her eyes—that caught him. One warm and brown, the other a burst of jagged lines.

It looked wrong, and yet right, and Kell couldn’t tear his gaze away.

Lila didn’t even try. That was the thing about her. Every glance was a test, a challenge. Kell closed the gap between them and brought his hand to her face, the beat of her pulse and power strong against his palm. She tensed at the touch, but didn’t pull away.

“You don’t look well,” he whispered, his thumb tracing her jaw.

“All things considered,” she murmured, “I think I’m holding my own….”

Several feet away, Hastra looked like he was trying to melt into the wall.

“Go on,” Kell told him without taking his eyes from Lila. “Get some rest.”