Standing there on display was painful enough.

Now came the truly unfortunate task of socializing.

Rhy was clearly steeling himself against the princess, who had apparently spent their last encounter trying to steal kisses and weave flowers in his hair. But Rhy’s worrying turned out to be for nothing—she had her sights set on other prey. Kings, swore Kell in his head, gripping his wine flute as she approached.

“Prince Kell,” she said, flashing a childlike grin. He didn’t bother to point out that she should address him as Master, not Prince. “You will dance with me, at the evening balls.”

He wasn’t sure if her Arnesian was simply limited, or if she meant to be so direct. But Rhy shot him a look that said he’d spent months preparing for this tournament, that it was a display of politics and diplomacy, that they would all be making sacrifices, and that he’d rather stab himself than let Kell put the empire’s peace in jeopardy by denying the princess a dance.

Kell managed a smile, and bowed. “Of course, Your Highness,” he answered, adding in Veskan, “Gradaich an’ach.”

It is my pleasure.

Her smile magnified as she bobbed away to one of her attendants.

Rhy leaned over. “Looks like I’m not the one who needs protecting after all. You know …” He sipped his wine. “It would be an interesting match….”

Kell kept his smile fixed. “I will stab you with this pin.”

“You would suffer.”

“It would be worth—” He was cut off by the approach of Lord Sol-in-Ar.

“Prince Rhy,” said the regent, nodding his head. Rhy straightened, and then bowed deeply.

“Lord Sol-in-Ar,” he said. “Hasanal rasnavoras ahas.”

Your presence honors our kingdom.

The regent’s eyes widened in pleased surprise. “Amun shahar,” he said before shifting back to Arnesian. “Your Faroan is excellent.”

The prince blushed. He had always had an ear for languages. Kell knew a fair amount of Faroan, too, thanks to Rhy preferring to have someone to practice on, but he said nothing.

“You make the effort to learn our tongue,” said Rhy. “It is only respectful to reciprocate.” And then, with a disarming smile, he added, “Besides, I’ve always found the Faroan language to be beautiful.”

Sol-in-Ar nodded, his gaze shifting toward Kell.

“And you,” said the regent. “You must be the Arnesian Antari.”

Kell bowed his head, but when he looked up, Sol-in-Ar was still examining him, head to toe, as if the mark of his magic were drawn not only in his eye, but across every inch of his being. When at last his attention settled on Kell’s face, he frowned faintly, the drop of metal on his forehead glinting.

“Namunast,” he murmured. Fascinating.

The moment Sol-in-Ar was gone, Kell finished his wine in a single gulp, and then retreated through the open doors of the Rose Hall before anyone could stop him.

He’d had more than enough royals for one day.

V

The river was turning red.

When the Night Spire first hit the mouth of the Isle, Lila could make out only the slightest tint to the water, and that only visible at night. Now, with the city fast approaching, the water glowed like a ruby lit from within, the red light visible even at midday. It was like a beacon, leading them into London.

At first, she’d thought the river’s light was steady, even, but she noticed now—after months of training herself to see and feel and think about magic as a living thing—that it pulsed beneath the surface, like lightning behind layers of clouds.

She leaned on the rail and turned the shard of pale stone between her fingers. She’d only had it since facing the Dane twins in White London, but the edges were starting to wear smooth. She willed her hands to still, but there was too much nervous energy, and nowhere for it to go.

“We’ll be there by dusk,” said Alucard beside her. Lila’s pulse fluttered. “If there’s anything you want to tell me about your departure from the city, now’s the time. Well, actually, any time over the last four months would have been the time, now is really up against a wall, but—”

“Don’t start,” she grumbled, tucking the stone shard back into her pocket.

“We all have demons, Bard. But if yours are waiting there—”

“My demons are all dead.”

“Then I envy you.” Silence fell between them. “You’re still mad at me.”

She straightened. “You tried to seduce me, for information.”

“You can’t hold that against me forever.”

“It was last night.”

“Well I was running out of options, and I figured it was worth a shot.”

Lila rolled her eyes. “You really know how to make a girl feel special.”

“I thought I was in trouble precisely for making you feel special.”

Lila huffed, blowing the hair out of her eyes. She returned to watching the river, and was surprised when Alucard stayed, leaning his elbows on the rail beside her.

“Are you excited to go back?” she asked.

“I quite like London,” he said. Lila waited for him to go on, but he didn’t. Instead, he began to rub his wrists.

“You do that,” said Lila, nodding at his hands, “whenever you’re thinking.”

He stopped. “Good thing I don’t make a habit of deep thought.” Elbows still resting on the rail, he turned his hands palm up, the cuffs of his tunic riding up so Lila could see the marks across his wrists. The first time she’d noticed them, she thought they were only shadows, but up close she realized they were scars.