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To anyone who thinks a relationship like Kianthe and Reyna’s isn’t “realistic,” but secretly wants it so badly it hurts … don’t worry. Somewhere in the world, there is someone who will bake you cookies and buy you swords and fight your dragons.

Never give up.

PROLOGUE

Kianthe

There was a scuffle. A chair scraped along the wooden floor. A book thumped off the shelf. A quiet chuckle was followed by Reyna’s deathly cold whisper: “What are you doing here?”

Kianthe rolled over, blinking blearily from the bed. Her face was half-buried in her pillow, and she squinted into the darkness. “’S someone here?” Despite her best effort, the words came out slurred, heavy with sleep.

Part of her thought she should be alarmed.

The rest of her resoundingly answered, Sounds like Reyna is handling this. It’s probably fine.

Her partner did, indeed, have it handled. A tall, thin man was standing beside their bed, looming over Kianthe—but he was utterly still. It looked weird … until Kianthe distantly noted that Reyna had a dagger pressed to his neck, the blade glinting in the silvery moonlight. Stone damned, her fiancée was hot.

“Go back to bed, love,” Reyna replied. She pressed a bit harder with the knife, and even in the dim lighting, a drop of blood gleamed as it slid down the man’s neck. “Locke was just leaving.”

That woke Kianthe up.

“Locke?” She pushed upright, rubbing one eye, squinting at the intruder. The rest of New Leaf Tomes and Tea was silent, the whole town of Tawney still in the icy winter night. She hadn’t seen him in person before, but he certainly looked as she expected—swathed in a dark cloak, shadows cutting harsh lines across his face. He glanced between them, gaze calculating.

Kianthe shivered, letting the cold seep into her bones. Letting it sharpen her mind. “I’m sorry. Tilaine’s spymaster, Locke?”

There was enough moisture in the air. She could pull it into an icicle, and that’d be plenty dangerous.

For him, anyway.

“I’m here of my own accord. Please, Reyna. Can we skip these pretenses?” The Queendom’s infamous spymaster heaved a long-suffering sigh.

Kianthe certainly wouldn’t be that blasé if Reyna had a knife to her throat. But maybe it was a byproduct of working for Queen Tilaine.

Reyna considered him for a long moment, then removed the knife and stepped back. She was still wearing her nightshirt, a thicker linen piece with long sleeves that ended mid-thigh. It left the rest of her looking fine, which almost distracted Kianthe from the fact that she spun the dagger threateningly between her fingers.

“This ‘pretense’ was only necessary because you broke into our home.” Reyna gestured at the bedroom door. “I refuse to talk in my nightclothes. Why don’t you get a fire started, and we’ll chat.”

“And here I thought your partner was the Mage of Ages,” Locke replied.

“My partner is still waking up. Surely the royal spymaster knows how to light a simple fire?” Reyna’s voice was innocent, but held an edge as sharp as her dagger’s. It left no room for argument.

Sexy. Kianthe smirked, draping over her pillow. Sleep still tugged at the edges of her mind. “Mhmm. Shoo, shoo.” She waggled a hand toward their shop.

Locke smirked, but dutifully left.

In the resulting silence, Reyna retrieved a cloak from their armoire and set aside her dagger—to be cleaned and polished, considering Locke’s blood still stained one edge. She tugged her hair into her signature bun. “Dear, this is likely a Queendom matter. You can stay in bed.” Her words were quiet, low enough that no one could hear her through their walls.

Kianthe pushed out of bed, stretching with a groan. “Nah. I’m up now. If Tilaine is throwing a fit again, I need to know if Locke is a threat.” A flame ignited in her palm, and like Reyna with her dagger, Kianthe let the fire dance along her fingers before vanishing. She yawned loudly, tugging on a comfy sweater crocheted by Bobbie. It was slightly misshapen, but the dye colors were autumnal, and it did the job of warming her up.

They’d only left Bobbie and Serina last season, but it felt like it had been years. And considering all that happened in the meantime—the dragon eggs hatching, Feo assuming the spot of councilmember, and Kianthe and Reyna settling back into managing New Leaf—Kianthe shouldn’t be surprised. Still, Bobbie’s sweater was a persistent reminder of their friends across the Realm.

If tonight was a threat, Kianthe supposed they could head west and find solace with them … or maybe even Dreggs.

“Locke is always a threat, love,” Reyna said. “Although I do question his target, tonight.”

Sure, sure. Absently, Kianthe clawed at her own hair. It was a losing battle. “Want me to make you a cup of tea?”

Reyna stepped over, pressing a kiss to her partner’s lips. She tasted vaguely sweet, somehow, which was just unfair since Kianthe’s breath was probably rancid. “Something strong, if you please. I have a feeling I’ll need it.”

With a wave, she left the room. When Kianthe emerged a few moments later, Reyna was already seated by the fire, across from Locke.

In the growing flames, Tilaine’s spymaster looked grim. His words were quiet, murmured, and Kianthe caught the tail end of his statement. “—wouldn’t bother you without a good reason, Reyna.”

Reyna lifted her chin, drumming her fingers on the chair’s armrest. She spoke louder, keeping no secrets from Kianthe. “It depends on who ordered this visit. You said you’re here of your own accord—but I find that hard to believe.”

“Of course you do.” Locke massaged his forehead. “Let me put your mind at ease. You’ve been researching the lost Queendom heir. Isn’t that correct?”

Reyna stiffened, the motion nearly imperceptible.

At the counter, scooping dried tea leaves, Kianthe tensed. Warning bells began echoing in her head, and she inserted forcefully, “There isn’t another heir. It’s a myth.” The last thing they needed was Tilaine thinking Reyna wasn’t loyal. Stone damned, that could ruin everything.

Reyna had always been so careful.

Now her shoulders slumped, and she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Thank you, dearest. But I somehow doubt Locke is actually asking that question.” She assessed him, as if waiting for him to pull out a dagger of his own. “How long have you known?”

“You’re very careful. Your research partner, Diarn Feo, is significantly less so.”

“Mmm.”

Locke leaned forward, steepling his fingers. “Her name is Tessalyn. Queen Eren’s second daughter, born in secrecy, shrouded in protective measures. I am here because I know exactly where she is—and I think it’s time we use her.”

Kianthe snorted, the sound dry and humorless. She stoked the small fire under Reyna’s copper kettle with a flick of her finger, then placed three linen bags of tea into mugs. “Use her? What is she? A winning card in a game of molem?”

“Precisely.” Locke’s gaze was steady, but he wasn’t watching Kianthe. No, Reyna was his prize.

Kianthe didn’t like it.

Granted, her partner didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she pressed her lips together, considering it. There had always been an unspoken question about this; yes, Reyna and Feo had been researching the missing heir, but no one had openly admitted what they’d do when they found her. In Kianthe’s mind, all this research was to assess a potential ally.

Clearly, the Queendom citizens thought differently.

“I don’t understand,” Reyna said.

It was such an obvious lie that Kianthe almost laughed. Reyna understood everything. Even Kianthe could read the subtext in this conversation. But it was a brilliant move—it forced Locke to say it aloud, to pitch the idea first.

It gave Reyna deniability until the very end.

Sneaky.

Locke knew it, too. A dark smile spread across the spymaster’s face. In the flickering light of the fire, he looked almost villainous. “I believe Her Excellency’s reign has come to an end. I want to use Tessalyn to overthrow Queen Tilaine—and I need your help to do it.”

“By the Stone,” Kianthe breathed.

“That’s treason, spymaster.” Reyna’s words were silky smooth, although her eyes flashed.

Locke leaned back in his chair. “It is. So, Reyna. My fate, and the fate of the Queendom, is in your hands. Will you help me?”

Kianthe brought the mugs of tea over, handing one off to Locke, and the other to Reyna. While the spymaster barely glanced at it, Reyna took the mug with reverence, letting it warm her hands, scenting the earthen undertones cut by a spoon of honey. Kianthe perched on the armrest at her side, sipping from her own mug.

Kianthe wanted to scream: Yes, Stone and Stars, yes, let’s get that bitch out of power! But their last confrontation with Tilaine had proved just how many of their friends were at risk. If they failed, every Queendom citizen here could be labeled a traitor to the crown and killed. So she clamped her mouth shut, heart pounding.

Reyna drew a sip of her tea. “Some people think that, when steeping tea leaves, adding time makes the taste stronger.”

“I also believed that, when I was younger.” Locke sounded awfully casual, considering what he’d just said. He drew a slow breath, inhaling the steam from his mug. “Now I know the truth. Wine ages well and refines in taste, but tea?”

Reyna picked up his statement seamlessly. “Too long, and it gets bitter. Oversteeping can ruin an otherwise good cup.” Now she paused, light brown eyes flicking upwards. “It is possible that Her Excellency has a similar problem.”

“More than possible, I’d say.” Locke smirked, and held out one hand.

A pointed gesture.

Reyna leaned forward and took it.

A thrill swept up Kianthe’s spine, and she leaned against the armchair’s back. “Well. I guess we have some things to plan, huh.”

1

Reyna

Two somethings thudded onto the roof of New Leaf Tomes and Tea, which meant Reyna’s day just got more complicated.

The wooden roof wouldn’t collapse—not with an elemental mage living here, threatening it daily—but Reyna flinched anyway. Hot water from the copper kettle she held splashed onto the polished wooden counter, missing the mug and burning the back of her hand. She hissed, pressing a hand to the angry red splotching rose-toned skin.

Meanwhile, dust misted from the rafters, settling on the wide leaves of exotic plants, shelves of books, and the building’s patrons. Several folks covered their mugs of tea, glancing at the ceiling in exasperation. A young couple nestled in the comfy armchairs near the fireplace craned to look at Reyna.

“Should we be worried?” one asked.

“Of course not.” Reyna dipped a rag in cool water, easing it against the mild burn. Mentally, she counted: three, two, one—

“Did you hear that?” Kianthe slammed out of the back storage room, where she was supposed to be blending new teas. Teas they’d need for all the guests who would be showing up for their wedding. A wedding that was happening six days from now.

Gods, planning a wedding was so much more stress than Reyna expected. She didn’t often feel frustrated with Kianthe, but a spark of it flared in her soul now.

Reyna closed her eyes, drawing a fortifying breath. “Dear—”

“They came back! Maybe they’re following my magic? Or they just love Ponder…” Kianthe danced in a circle, squinting at the ceiling, dark eyes alight. If Tawney’s ley line had been any stronger, her magic would be sparkling in anticipation, flashing in the air like fireflies.

It was cute. Reyna loved that Kianthe got excited about the dragons.

But the part of her strained to the brink whispered, Is there time for this?

At the bookshelves, Gossley—their teenage shop hand—groaned. “No. No. You promised we weren’t doing this again.”

Above them, the sound of scrabbling talons cut over the roof tiles. The entire barn seemed to groan, the roof holding the weight as a sheer act of the Gods. Or maybe it was an act of the Stone of Seeing. Or maybe the wood just didn’t want to disappoint Kianthe, the Arcandor, the Mage of Ages, the Realm’s most powerful elemental mage—who was currently hopping into her leather boots like there was a fight to catch outside and she didn’t want to miss out.

Kianthe’s balance shifted, and she nearly crashed into the wall.

A few of their patrons snorted and went back to their teas.

Reyna set down her copper kettle, absently mopping the spilled water with a cleaning rag. The burn’s pain had already faded, which was a blessing. The frustration remained. “Key, please. Gossley is right; we talked about this.”

“I’m just going to look. They’re baby dragons,” Kianthe said, yanking on her other boot. This side was far more graceful, mostly because she’d taken the hint and braced her shoulder against the wall.

“I thought dragon magic made you nauseous?” Reyna asked, an unbidden smile crossing her face. It was hard to stay mad at her partner for long.

“Adult dragon magic, maybe. Baby dragon magic doesn’t count. It’s like”—Kianthe paused, straightening, deep in thought—“like the unsettling feeling of a rough ocean, where you think you should be seasick, but you aren’t. And they’re so cute!”

Reyna sighed. “Cute or not, the last time they stopped by, one showed interest in your moonstone. And when you let it get a closer look—it stole your moonstone, and you and Visk spent half the day chasing it down.”

Her unspoken words were: We don’t have half a day. We barely have until noon.

But Kianthe utterly missed it.

“Something so young shouldn’t be so fast.” Kianthe’s hand unconsciously sought the pendant at her neck. It still functioned as necessary—a bridge between Reyna’s own, matching necklace, allowing them to communicate over long distances—but there was a big chip in hers now. “Gentle” wasn’t a concept many dragons understood, apparently.

Another thump-thud on the roof.

Case in point.

Kianthe surged forward, and Reyna smoothly cut her off. Sometimes Kianthe’s brain got frazzled, completely distracted. Sometimes, she needed more pointed intervention. Reyna tried to keep her tone neutral, but her stress leaked in. “Key, please listen to me. The wedding is in one week. Our friends are working hard to ensure it’s a time everyone remembers. The town’s size is about to double with all our guests.” She drew a slow breath, feeling her heart rate slow as Kianthe finally offered her undivided attention. Gazing at her partner, it was easy to add an amusing lilt now: “If the Arcandor accidentally starts a war with the dragons, we’ll have a difficult time cutting the cake.”

“Fuck.” Kianthe visibly hesitated. “I forgot there’d be cake.”

Reyna squeezed her arm and strolled back behind the counter. “I can’t take on sorting the teas, too, love. Please don’t add that to my load.”

“Never,” Kianthe swore, pressing a hand to her heart. “I’ll get it done. And then I’ll make you a cup of tea to unwind tonight. You seem stressed.”

“I wonder why,” Reyna drawled, but inside, she was cringing.

Everything they’d discussed with Locke all those weeks ago—it was all coming to a head at the wedding. Which meant everything needed to be perfect. She couldn’t take any more distractions.

“Love you, Rain.” Kianthe stepped forward, pressing a kiss to her lips. “Just a moment with the dragons, okay?”

Any frustration melted away. Reyna was slightly shorter than Kianthe, and she pushed to her tip-toes to drape over her partner in a hug. Kianthe’s strong grip felt like an anchor in a storm. “Okay. Have fun. And tell Ponder to stay off the roof. She’s setting a bad example.” Reyna pulled away, dipped a tea bag into the mug, then flipped one of their sand timers to ensure it didn’t oversteep. “Apologies for the delay, Miss Fusset! It will just be a moment.”

An elderly woman at one of the nearby tables waved, nose buried in a very raunchy book.

Kianthe stole another kiss, then winked. “Be right back. If anything, I’ll make sure they don’t cave the place in. You don’t need that right now, either.”

By the time Reyna sorted her thoughts to respond, Kianthe was gone.

It wasn’t a graceful exit—the moment she stepped outside, she nearly slammed into Matild. Their best friend danced around Kianthe, raising a plate covered in a cloth napkin over her head to avoid Kianthe’s flailing hands.

“Matild, there’s dragons—”

“Do you know how long it took Janice to bake these cookies?” Matild shifted the plate to one hand and smacked Kianthe’s shoulder with the other. The mage grinned sheepishly, but Matild was already stepping inside, utterly ignoring the dragons on the roof. “Reyna, I need your opinion. I can’t trust your fiancée with this.”

Matild was Tawney’s midwife—the closest thing to a medical professional in the small town. She was also one of the first acquaintances Kianthe and Reyna had made when they arrived—and it was a friendship that had withstood the test of time. Now she strode through the bookshop as if she owned the place, her ochre skin flushed, eyes alight.

As a married woman, nothing excited Matild more than the thought of someone else’s wedding.

Reyna wished she had that energy.

Another fire to put out. Reyna hadn’t had this many tasks on her plate since Queen Tilaine visited Shepara, and she was one of three Queensguard chosen to coordinate security on the trip. Swallowing a sigh, Reyna removed the tea bag, mixed in some honey, and dropped it off at Miss Fusset’s table.

The old woman barely noticed, eyes wide as she flipped to a new page.

“Follow me.” Matild bypassed the bookshop entirely, beelining for the storage room—and the privacy it afforded.

Lovely. One of those cookie tastings, then.

Reyna forced a smile and said to Gossley, “You’ve got the shop.”

“Of course, Miss Reyna.” The boy puffed up a bit as he fumbled with the book in his hand. His girlfriend sometimes stopped by to say hello, and nothing pleased Gossley more than showing he was in charge of a business. Luckily, he was as reliable as he was eager.

Reyna stepped into the storeroom and gently closed the door behind herself, facing Matild. She couldn’t stop herself from slumping against the door. “Well?”

“We have a problem.” The midwife cut straight to the chase.

Reyna massaged her forehead. “We always do. What’s the issue now? If it’s still the florist, Kianthe will be the best one to—”

“It’s not the florist.” Matild cleared a space for her plate of cookies, casting a surreptitious look at the unsorted teas. Jars and jars of them busied the table in the room’s center, with half-made blends left abandoned. In short, it was chaos—but that was how Kianthe preferred to work. Matild quirked an eyebrow. “Uh. Those baby dragons interrupted something, didn’t they?”

“The problem, Matild?” Reyna redirected. Her brain was a swirl of activity already, and the wedding preparations hadn’t even started in earnest. Not for the first time, Reyna regretted agreeing to this entire event. It felt so unnecessary.

Then again, the point was to present a united front to the entire Realm.

She just had to survive the week.

Matild riffled through her pocket and plucked out a single letter. It had a deep-blue seal stamped on the front, the address penned with meticulous cursive.

Kianthe of the magicary and Jallin

The Arcandor, the mage of Ages

new Leaf Tomes and Tea, Tawney

There was no mention of the sender. There was also no doubt in Reyna’s mind who’d sent it. This week, her normally impeccable composure was a thing of the past, and she cursed loudly as she snatched the letter from Matild’s hand. “When did you get this?”

“Postmaster dropped it off this morning.” Until the wedding was over, all their mail was being delivered to Matild. It was partly to avoid opening any gifts early by accident … and partly to keep their sanity in a sea of congratulations. Reyna and Kianthe agreed they could sort through the letters at their leisure after the wedding.

Matild’s voice was grim. “You said to look out for letters from Jallin. I thought it was odd they’d address her like that.”

Reyna ran her fingers along the locations. The Magicary … and Jallin.

The Arcandor was nothing short of a public figure, renowned for her control over the Realm’s elemental magic. But all mages were funneled into the Magicary for proper training, and then released as independent citizens. In theory, the Mage of Ages held no special connection to any one country or town; they were a mediator to the Realm at large.

In practice, Kianthe was usually biased in favor of Shepara or Leonol—mostly because she hated Queen Tilaine, the venerated ruler of the Queendom and Reyna’s ruthless ex-employer. But to imply Kianthe was loyal to Jallin specifically … that was an overstep only one family would make.

Reyna opened the letter. She shouldn’t, not without Kianthe’s approval, but she couldn’t stop herself. The words blurred together so she only caught snippets at first, lines like delighted to see you again and gifts for you and your future wife, but the ending signature stuck like a dagger.

See you soon,

Your Parents

“Shit,” Reyna muttered.

“That bad?” Matild skirted around the table, craning over Reyna’s shoulder to see. It was a dangerous position for anyone but Kianthe—Reyna’s instincts were to never let someone hover behind her, lest they pull a knife—but this new development took priority. Matild hummed in confusion. “Her parents? All this time, you wanted me to watch for a letter from her parents?”

Reyna leveled an unimpressed stare at Matild.

The midwife tutted. “Don’t look at me like that. Of course her family would want to come to her wedding. Why are you acting like someone poisoned your drink?”

Reyna carefully extricated herself, stepping to a clear area of the storage room for a bit of breathing space. “Kianthe isn’t on the best terms with her family. She’s started sending letters, and replying to the ones they sent … but that’s different than her parents”—Reyna checked the letter to get the wording right—“‘arriving in Tawney posthaste.’”

Matild contemplated. “Were they assholes?”

And that was where things got tricky. Family relations usually were. Reyna drew a short breath. “I honestly can’t say. From what Kianthe tells me, they’re … encouraging. But I think that’s the problem.”

It was hard for Reyna to understand, truth be told. She’d had a good relationship with her mother, and after her death, sentimentality had brightened any negative moments. But it didn’t matter what Reyna thought. She wasn’t present for Kianthe’s childhood, and sometimes, relationships couldn’t be mended.

Matild crossed her arms. “I may need a bit more information, because I’m not seeing the problem here. My family is locked in the Capital, and if we visit, we’ll be killed.” Sorrow tinged Matild’s tone. “It sounds like her parents want to attend her wedding. I wish Tarly and I were as lucky.”

Fatigue slid through Reyna’s chest. She pushed off the door, slumping instead over the work table. The unbagged teas, which smelled lovely individually, had combined into a noxious fume that was giving Reyna a headache.

“I know. But it’s a different situation.” She sorted her thoughts, trying to put Matild in Kianthe’s shoes. “For Kianthe, their expectations are stressful. They want her to be the greatest Arcandor of all time. And that support—that pressure—was spread over decades of well-meaning letters from family she truly admired … and never wanted to fail.”

After fleeing the Capital, Matild had spent considerable time in Shepara’s capital of Wellia, studying all forms of medicine. She took her job as the owner of Tawney’s sole clinic very seriously. The well-being of every Tawney citizen—Sheparan or Queendom—was her priority.

And anyone close to Kianthe knew the mage wrestled with anxiety.

Matild grimaced. “Ah.”

“Indeed.” Reyna folded the letter, tucking it in her pocket. “I’ll tell Kianthe about this. But Dreggs will be arriving this afternoon, the wedding is six days away, and there are dragons on my roof.”

As if to prove the point, another thud echoed overhead, followed by a warning screech loud enough to penetrate the barn’s walls. Ponder, chastising the dragons. Reyna’s young griffon loved to scold them for misbehaving.

Reyna winced, fighting another swell of panic. “I need you to coordinate with Sigmund and Nurt.” The town informants knew everything that happened in Tawney, and had no issue distributing details … for a fee. “If anyone we haven’t accounted for arrives, intercept them. That’s priority one.”

Matild frowned. “I thought priority one was—”

“It’s changed.” A lifetime guarding a vicious queen meant Reyna was excellent at shuffling priorities when new threats arose. Now she tucked the letter in her pocket, smoothing her apron. Maybe she could regain her perfect composure through sheer willpower.

Matild lifted one brow, her tone stern. “You’re wearing thin, Reyna. You don’t need one more secret.”

That was true. But they had too many things to do today. She couldn’t tell Kianthe about this yet.

It was selfish, but she needed her partner in top shape, completely focused on what was to come. Because the Gods knew Reyna was barely holding herself together, all things considered. Her parents were attending the wedding, but they weren’t an immediate threat.

Not yet, anyway.

Reyna forced a laugh. “On the contrary, all this excitement reminds me of the old days. I’ll tell Kianthe when we have a moment to breathe, but Lord Wylan is expecting us soon.”

“To discuss logistics about the pirate fleet you’ve welcomed to our doorstep? Or the other thing?” Matild smirked.

Reyna twirled her light-blond hair into a loose bun. A quick tie with a scrap of leather kept it off her face. “Both.” Absently, her hands drifted to her hip … to the missing piece. “I wish I had my sword.”

“One day, I think I’ll need an exact play-by-play of how Kianthe managed to break it during a sparring session.” Matild rolled her eyes.

“She’s not meant for weapons. Her form was all wrong.” Although Reyna had other suspicions, she wouldn’t voice them aloud. Not yet. “Is Tarly almost done repairing it?”

Matild waved a hand. “He’s working on it, but he’s been backlogged lately. It’ll be ready before the wedding, and I’m sure you can survive until then with your dagger collection.”

Heat rose on Reyna’s cheeks. “I can. It’s just … a small comfort. Makes me feel more confident.”

Matild clapped her shoulder. “Everyone feels more confident with a sword at their hip. Take it from a blacksmith’s wife.” She headed for the door, but gestured back at the covered plate. “There’s no cookie tasting; I made the decision for you. If you don’t like those, file a complaint with Janice and we’ll respond in nine to twelve days.”

Reyna rolled her eyes, an unbidden smile tilting her lips. “Duly noted.”

“Good luck with Kianthe. Hopefully she doesn’t try to ride the dragons again.” Matild shook her head and strolled out the door, easing it closed behind her.

Alone in the storage room, Reyna glanced at the mess of unsorted teas, the abandoned plate of cookies. In her pocket, the letter seemed to burn—and all of these were minor inconveniences compared to what was coming.

She drew a slow breath, centering her mind.

Everything was going to be fine.

She’d make sure of it.

Plastering a smile on her face, Reyna strolled back into the shop.

2

Kianthe

The dragons prowled along the slate shingles of the barn’s roof, grumbling to each other as they explored. From a distance, it sounded mildly terrifying—except that these dragons were barely more than hatchlings, and had the personalities to match. Ponder flitted above them, chittering in obvious irritation, her wings flapping fiercely.

Kianthe crested the ladder, manipulating the wind to keep herself from tipping off the slanted roof, and squinted against the sunlight.

As always, an adult dragon lounged on the rim behind the town, keeping a casual eye on their youth. But with the Mage of Ages near enough to protect the babies, the adult dragon had clearly checked out. It was stretched like a cat lazing in the sun, wings draped over the snow-dusted rocks, eyes closed.

Kianthe snorted. That was her kind of babysitting.

Ponder landed beside Kianthe. She bumped Kianthe’s shoulder, which almost toppled the mage, and chirped smugly at the dragons. But her talons weren’t any better for the rooftop, and a shingle slid past Kianthe, crashing to the ground.

“Ahh!” someone yelped.

“Sorry!” Kianthe grimaced, reaching out with her magic, and ordered the rest of the slate tiles to stay put. They weren’t happy about it—fair, considering the dragons’ assault—but they held tight to appease her.

“Reyna said to stay off the roof,” Kianthe told the adolescent griffon.

Ponder tilted her beak dismissively, the griffon equivalent of “They started it.”

Gone were the days when Ponder could fit on their shoulders. Now, she’d reached her full height—a hand shorter than Visk, her father—and was filling out nicely as the seasons passed. In another half a year, she’d be safe to ride.

For now, she was a sassy teenager surrounded by bad influences.

“Gold Coin. Pill Bug! We talked about this,” Kianthe called, pulsating her words with elemental magic. It flowed into the dragons, causing them to pause. Both were deep silver in color, like most of the dragons north of here—but Gold Coin had shocking purple eyes and a pair of twisting horns. Its sibling, meanwhile, was smaller, with a dusting of black along the underside of its wings.

Kianthe waved a hand. “Go on. To the ground with you.” Like she was shooing pesky pigeons out of a tree.

Gold Coin roared, puffing up and spreading its wings in what would doubtless be an intimidating display in a few years—but given that its fearsome roar currently had a timbre that reminded Kianthe of Gossley’s cracking voice, the effect was lost.

“Very fierce.” Kianthe snickered.

Really, Reyna had created this problem. Back when Gold Coin was small enough to fit inside New Leaf, she’d shown it a picture book of a fearsome dragon hoarding gold.

It took that persona to heart.

Pill Bug, meanwhile, lowered its head in submission and meekly hopped off the roof, drifting between their barn and Sasua’s house to land in the street. A few startled cries erupted from their patrons. Kianthe listened intently, but their surprise settled into murmurs and amused laughter.

Apparently, these dragons were becoming something of a town mascot. Fine by Kianthe—that just meant more eyes to keep them out of mischief.

The mage redirected her attention to Gold Coin, their perpetual troublemaker. She thought Ponder was bad. “There’s nothing here for your hoard, kid. But if you land, Reyna may have a cookie for you.”

Gold Coin eyed her moonstone with interest.

Kianthe gripped the necklace protectively, flaring with magic. “Try it. I dare you.”

At her side, Ponder screeched warning, wings flaring. While well-intentioned, she nearly smacked Kianthe off the rooftop. Only a swirl of wind magic saved her. There was a reason Kianthe dealt with the dragons in this situation. Kianthe wasn’t giving any opportunity for Reyna to fall off the roof again—once was quite enough, thank you.

Gold Coin took great offense to Ponder’s screech and released an even louder roar. That one, at least, got a bit guttural—Kianthe felt the vibrations through the slate.

Far in the distance, the babysitting dragon raised its massive head. It looked lazily at the commotion, puffed a trail of smoke from blackened nostrils, and sent a bellowing roar across the plains.

Gold Coin immediately ducked its head, wings pulled tight to its body. With a sulking huff, it leapt off the rooftop, gliding down to join its sibling.

Ponder puffed like a sparrow in the rain, clearly smug, and nipped Kianthe’s clothes.

“I know, I know. You helped.” Kianthe laughed, pushing her toward the roof’s edge. The griffon leapt up and clasped Kianthe’s arm in gentle talons, wings spread to ease Kianthe to the ground. For such a young griffon, she had every ounce of Visk’s intuitive spirit.

Although her landings could use a little work. The touchdown sent shock waves up Kianthe’s knees, making her buckle and nearly trip.

Strong arms steadied her, and Sasua whistled at her son. “Hey! No petting the dragons.”

“Pill Bug likes to be petted,” Kianthe said.

To be honest, Pill Bug liked most things—it was fascinated with nature, statues, the stars, Ponder’s odd feathered wings. Children were special objects of interest, and the dragon danced around Sasua’s young son like a street dog. Its long snout poked at her son’s clothes, snuffling for anything of worth. The boy giggled and shoved it away.

Meanwhile, Gold Coin and Ponder had engaged in a new debate, albeit one with more courtesy. Ponder flounced beside the dragon, spread her wings wide, and lifted her chin in accomplishment. Gold Coin puffed and spread its wings too, beating her wingspan by a tiny bit. The two creatures squinted between themselves, and Gold Coin rumbled in a dragon chuckle.

Ponder nipped the ridges of Gold Coin’s chin irately. Gold Coin hissed, and they were off, flying fast over the plains in a dizzying game of chase.

Pill Bug watched them go, then went back to playing with Sasua’s son.

Sasua, meanwhile, crossed her arms. “I know you said we’re friendly with the dragons, but what if their babies are injured here? Will they blame us?”

Kianthe shrugged. “I mean, if someone hurts them and we didn’t intervene, I’d blame us too.”

“That’s not comforting, Kianthe.”

The mage smirked, gesturing at the rim beyond Tawney. “They’re keeping track. And I won’t let anything escalate. After all, there’s an element of risk to everything.” Now she paused, her grin widening. “Get it? Element? Because I’m an elemental—”

“Yes, yes.” Sasua pinched the bridge of her nose. “When do the wedding guests arrive, again?”

No fun.

Kianthe huffed, dropping into a chair at one of the tables they’d set up outside New Leaf. It was early spring, still cold considering Tawney’s northern location, and the icy metal of the chair leeched away her warmth. She conjured a fireball to hug to her chest.

“Diarn Bobbie and her partner are arriving with Dreggs later this afternoon.”

“Ah, yes, the infamous pirate captain and cutthroat crew we’re hosting a town-wide feast for.” Sasua quirked an eyebrow.

Sasua had experienced many struggles in her life, Kianthe knew. But considering why Dreggs had made the trip, her tone was a bit colder than usual. “If you think the pirates are the most dangerous guests at this event, you haven’t been paying attention. We’re absolutely expecting Queen Tilaine to crash the party.”

That made Sasua stiffen. “Lovely.”

“It’s not too late to leave.” Kianthe’s voice softened. “Feo would put you and your son up in Wellia for a nice vacation if you wanted.” It would all be worth it in the end, but she hated the turmoil they were putting their neighbors through now.

Sasua gauged her tone, then glanced at her son. The boy had dropped onto his stomach, lying opposite Pill Bug. The dragon had sprawled out on the dirt road as well, head lowered to the ground, staring intently at a leather ball he was rolling around.

After a moment’s hesitation, she admitted, “I think we’ll stay. I wouldn’t want to miss the ‘wedding of a generation.’” Amusement filtered into her voice at the title.

Gratitude warmed Kianthe’s chest. “We’d love to have you there.”

“What about Reyna’s gift?” Sasua glanced over her shoulder, double-checking that the woman in question wasn’t in earshot. She lowered her voice anyway, which was a solid call, considering Reyna’s track record for stealth. “Will it be done in time?”

“Tarly’s doing his best. He’s never worked with meteoric iron, so it’s a bit trickier than expected.” Kianthe’s chest warmed, and she offered a lopsided grin. “But it’ll be worth the wait.”

There was nothing more revered than meteoric iron in Shepara and Leonol, and Kianthe had to pull in most of her favors to obtain enough for the project. And then, to bring Reyna’s own faith into the mix, one of the Queendom’s high priestesses had blessed the metal before forging. A gift of the Gods, the Stone of Seeing, and the Stars—Reyna’s weapon was about to be one of a kind.

Just like her.

“Hmm. Well, I’ll be helping Janice bake the sweets for the day of, so let me know if you have any requests.” Now Sasua smiled, a rare thing. “I am happy you two decided to host a wedding. I know you were originally hoping for a more intimate affair.”

That almost made Kianthe choke. She disguised it with a cough and hoped Sasua didn’t notice. “Well. We wanted to give the Realm a day to remember.”

A deeper screech caught Kianthe’s attention, and she covered her eyes, squinting at the bright blue sky. Visk, her griffon, was circling, his wings cutting a shadow across the ground. He landed lithely a decent distance from Pill Bug and Sasua’s son. The baby dragon leapt upright, abandoning the child for this new object of interest.

Visk huffed, keeping his wings spread for the dragon’s inspection. After raising Ponder and her clutch mates, his patience became legendary—and he understood the necessity of staying on good terms with the dragons.

“Just in time.” Kianthe strolled to her longtime companion, scratching the soft feathers under his chin. He trilled, his lion’s tail flicking as he leaned into her touch. “Aww. Such a good boy. What’s the report, bud?”

Sasua’s son ran back to them. “Mama, mama, I met a dragon!”

“I saw! Let’s get a cup of tea and you can tell me all about it.” Sasua corralled him inside New Leaf, offering a wave to Kianthe. A few other patrons held the door open for them, casting surreptitious glances at the mythical creatures as they left the repurposed barn.

Visk, meanwhile, straightened self-importantly and squawked.

“Pirates have weighed anchor, then?” Kianthe quirked an eyebrow. “How close are they to Tawney?” Dreggs would have to anchor on the Eastern Ocean and walk inland, a process that would likely take most of the day.

At least, that’s what Feo and Wylan were counting on, considering they’d scheduled one final meeting before the anticipated arrival.

Visk chirped, folded his wings, and sent a stern glare at Pill Bug. Feather inspection time was clearly over. Pill Bug spread leathery wings and took off, moving effortlessly through the sky to rejoin Ponder and Gold Coin, who were still circling above Tawney.

Baby dragon magic may be subtle enough to keep Kianthe from outright nausea, but the creature’s subtle manipulation of wind still had her stomach flipping. She cleared her throat, watching it climb higher. For a moment, her responsibilities for the week faded, and she almost leapt on Visk’s back to join them in the skies.

With the dragon gone, Visk returned his attention to Kianthe. He couldn’t speak to her, but he understood her just fine—and she liked to think she was also fluent in griffon. Now, he fluffed his feathers. All good, then. Dreggs and their crew must be right on time.

Just to confirm, Kianthe asked, “Did Dreggs give you a message?”

Visk flexed his talons in the dirt to answer: no letters to deliver.

“Good. You’re not a common messenger hawk.” Kianthe smoothed the feathers on his neck, then pressed a kiss to his head. “Thanks for taking the time, bud. Stay close this week, okay?”

Visk bumped her chest fondly and took off again. He spiraled higher until he could intercept Ponder, and their chittering conversation cut through the cold air. After another moment, he left her to the dragons, angling instead toward the mountains to the west—and his mate, who roosted there.

All that remained was the quiet murmuring of conversation in the street around them and the hum of beetles awakening after the snows. Slowly, the birds emerged—they usually hid from Visk, but now they hopped along tree branches and twittered happy songs.

After so much chaos, it was nice to have a moment alone.

Kianthe stretched her arms above her head, loosening her shoulders and rising to her tiptoes. The midday sun was bright and warm, even if the air was chilly. The flowers outside their barn were in full bloom. Reyna had decorated every table with a tiny clay jar, and chosen a single flower for each. A daffodil here, a tulip there, but all lovely.

Tawney was about to get very, very crowded—but for this singular breath, Kianthe could appreciate the world they lived in. Gratitude surged in her chest, as comforting as the sun overhead. Despite everything to come, an unbidden smile crossed her lips.

In six days, the wedding would be over … and they could return to this peace. Assuming everything went well, anyway.

Kianthe wanted nothing more.

The barn’s door flung open and Matild strolled out. She’d lost the plate of cookies, but seemed to have gained a slightly frazzled air. Her eyes caught Kianthe’s. “Good, you’re here. Reyna’s working on your teas, but you may need to help her.”

Shit. Kianthe grimaced, striding back to the entrance. “She didn’t need to—”

“You know Reyna. If there’s a job to do, she’ll do it.” Matild flapped a hand in dismissal. “Have you seen Sigmund and Nurt?”

“Uh … no. Not today.”

“Hmm.” Matild didn’t expand, instead striding down the street with purpose.

Granted, Matild rarely moved without purpose, but it still raised suspicions. Kianthe squinted after her, then headed back into the bookshop.

Everything was as she expected, blissfully peaceful without talons scrabbling on the roof. Reyna exited the storage room right as Kianthe reached the serving counter. Her lips tilted into a soft smile. “How were the dragons? I see your moonstone is still in your possession.”

“Oh, come on. That was one time.” At least she wasn’t sorting the teas—that was solidly Kianthe’s job. Relieved, Kianthe glanced back at the barn doors and raised one eyebrow. “Why was Matild acting weird?”

Reyna sighed. “Matild brought me a piece of mail you’ll find … interesting. But we need to leave, or we’ll be late. Can you trust me to discuss it with you later, once we properly have the time?”

That answer was as easy as breathing. “Sure, that’s fine.” Curiosity prickled her soul, but Reyna knew her best. If she felt it better to discuss things later, Kianthe could wait.

What was more concerning was the pinched edges of Reyna’s smile. “Excellent. We’d better go.”

Reyna had a tendency to prioritize everyone but herself—which meant it was Kianthe’s job to intervene there. The wedding alone would be stressful, but they were tackling some very intense problems this week.

Kianthe caught Reyna’s arm, turning her away from the patrons for a moment of privacy. “Hey … are you ready for this?” She didn’t mean the wedding, and they both knew it. “It’s not too late to back down.”

“Dear, I’m afraid that ship sailed when Dreggs did.”

A brush-off.

Reyna was trying hard not to think about the true implications of this meeting. Of their plan.

“Look, we fled our lives once to avoid responsibility. We can do it again.” Kianthe offered a wry smile. No matter what, they still had each other—and that was the important thing.

“Gods forbid. I never want to leave this shop behind.” Reyna pulled Kianthe into a hug. It was tighter than normal, a rare display of vulnerability. She rested her forehead against Kianthe’s shoulder, her words muffled. “But now that it’s right on top of us, I keep wondering what we’ll do if … something goes wrong.”

Well, that was something they shared.

Kianthe pressed a kiss to Reyna’s hair. “Even if it does, we’ll handle it. In the meantime, don’t forget to relax this week, okay? It’s still our celebration.”

“Ah, yes. Because I excel at relaxation.” Sarcasm laced Reyna’s voice.

Kianthe pulled back, narrowing her eyes. “Rain.”

Her concern seemed to make Reyna melt. She buried her face in the crook of Kianthe’s neck, her breath hot against Kianthe’s skin. “I’ll be okay. As long as you’re here, we’ll be fine.”

“Trust me, I have nowhere to be.”

“Other than playing with dragons.” Reyna’s voice was teasing.

Kianthe smirked, running her fingers over Reyna’s hair. “You can come play with them too, next time. Try prioritizing something fun over … well, everything else.”

“Easier said than done.” Reyna kissed her, fast and light, and began untying her apron as she addressed the patrons—most were minding their own business, although some were glancing their way as if hoping for pre-wedding drama. Reyna kept her expression pleasant, offering no hint of her earlier fears: “We’ll be stepping out for a bit. Gossley will help if you need anything.”

A few of their neighbors raised their mugs in acknowledgment.

Reyna smoothed her lacy shirt and plucked a griffon down feather out of Kianthe’s hair. “Okay. Let’s get this week started.” With a smile, she stepped out the door.

Kianthe followed, determination settling in her soul.

One final meeting—and then everything would begin again.

3

Reyna

On the northern side of town, a jagged rim rose from the ground, curving around Lord Wylan’s mansion in a stoic embrace. The estate itself was impressive: huge blocks of stone from the Queendom’s quarries that loomed over the wooden architecture prevalent in the rest of Tawney. Windows were cut into pragmatic rectangles, and the glass lacked stained artwork. The courtyard was paved with ceramic tiles and accented by scraggly plants.

Almost a year ago, Reyna had stood on this very stoop as Cya, a future tea maker hoping for a lord’s boon.

Now, Kianthe’s presence at her side was a warm reminder that she’d achieved everything she wanted: a lifelong partner, a safe home, and freedom to choose her path from here. It ignited a firm determination in Reyna’s soul.

No matter what happened this week, failure was not an option.

Reyna lifted the door’s knocker, a brass dragon’s skull. Before it even clattered back to the metal plate, the double doors opened wide, and Lord Wylan’s head servant bowed deeply. “Welcome, honored guests.”

Ralund was an older gentleman with a stoic disposition who’d served Wylan’s family all his life. He was dressed impeccably, wearing a uniform Reyna hadn’t seen before—a uniform fit to receive royalty. Everything from his neatly trimmed beard to the gold embroidered on his jacket implied respect and care.

One of those days, then.

“It’s a pleasure to be welcomed into the lord’s home,” Reyna recited, lifting her chin in acknowledgment. After all, a lord’s guests didn’t bow to servants—even if Reyna, a prior Queensguard, would have.

Kianthe glanced between the two of them. “Why is everyone being so formal?”

They knew most Tawnean citizens by this point, but some hovered on the periphery. Ralund was one of them: he maintained an estate better suited for a staff of ten, which meant they didn’t see him around town very often.

So, his lips twitching could have been amusement, or it could have been exasperation.

Reyna stepped in before he felt obligated. “Call it practice for what’s to come, love. Now, I do hope the Arcandor, the Mage of Ages, will be joining us.” The implication was clear: this meeting of the minds wasn’t aimed at Kianthe the bookseller.

“Ah, how fun.” Kianthe sighed, but dutifully straightened. It wouldn’t be much better, considering the Arcandor was notoriously humorous even in stoic situations, but Kianthe wasn’t a stranger to playing politics.

Ralund led them into the house, which was ablaze with torches. The long hallways were lined with oil portraits of Wylan’s predecessors—starting with the female lord chosen by the Queendom’s first sovereign and descending through the lineage. Ralund paused at the end of that hallway, offering them the requisite moment to admire the artwork.

Kianthe, of course, missed it entirely and ignored the painting—a grievous offense to the lord of the manor and his staff. Reyna subtly looped her arm through Kianthe’s to hold her there, all the while examining the stoic depiction of Wylan’s father and the more recent oil painting of Lord Wylan himself.

Silence.

Kianthe glanced at Reyna, then at the artwork, then at Ralund, who was standing stiffly beside them. She coughed and said, “Pretty.”

For someone who spent so much time mingling with world leaders, it was amazing she hadn’t started a civil war. Reyna swallowed her snort and instead remarked, “It’s a wonderful likeness, befitting the Queen’s chosen lord of Tawney. May the Gods bless Her Excellency, Lord Wylan, and the Queendom proper.”

Kianthe wrinkled her nose, but Ralund seemed pleased with the statement. He bowed again and turned down another corridor. As he walked ahead, Kianthe bent toward Reyna and whispered, “Do you have to do that every single time you enter a lord’s house? Stone-damned, your visits must get repetitive.”

Fond exasperation flickered in Reyna’s chest. Considering she’d spent decades following these protocols in the Grand Palace, she could barely refrain from rolling her eyes.

“It’s how we show gratitude to our host. And yes, it’s supposed to happen every single time.” Then, just to tease her partner, she added, “Would you like to mock anything else from my culture, or is that enough?”

Kianthe flushed. “Sorry. It was a nice painting.” A bald-faced lie, but Reyna appreciated the effort. “We’ve just never done that before.”

“Wylan is less formal than most.” At least when he wasn’t entertaining visitors from the Capital. “Don’t worry, love. We’ll be home soon enough.”

Ralund rounded the corner and tugged open the heavy wooden doors to Lord Wylan’s study. The warmth from the fireplace washed over them, cutting the chill ever present in the Queendom’s stone architecture. The room beyond had two stories: a square balcony upstairs lined with ancient artifacts—weaponry and armor of wars since passed, pottery and jewelry, and mosaics of Queendom history—and a lower level framed with tall bookshelves.

A grin split Kianthe’s face, and she surged forward—undoubtedly to grab a book or seven. In the next breath, she seemed to remember what Reyna had requested and instead rooted herself to the spot, bouncing on her toes.

Impressive restraint.

Ralund spoke: “My lord, may I present Kianthe, the Arcandor, the Mage of Ages, and Reyna, the tea maker.”

Ouch. There was something embarrassing about being introduced so formally as a tea maker. Reyna wasn’t ashamed of her new career, but swathed in the formality of the Capital, her cheeks still warmed with the implication.

Lord Wylan rose to his feet and approached.

“Welcome, honored guests,” he intoned obeisantly, clasping his hands behind his back.

“It is our pleasure to be welcomed into your town and home, my lord.” Now, Reyna did bow deeply, and she stayed low until Kianthe followed suit. As they straightened, Kianthe shot an exasperated glance at Diarn Feo, who was seated on a rigid couch by the hearth. The diarn raised a hand as if to say, What do you want me to do about it?

Reyna tactfully ignored them both.

Wylan addressed his servant next. “You are dismissed, Ralund.”

“Yes, sir.” Ralund stepped back into the hallway. The door scraped shut, and only once it locked with a heavy thud did Lord Wylan visibly relax.

“Thank the Gods I’ve only been to Her Excellency’s court twice in my life. All this practice is drumming up terrible memories of my schooling.” Wylan stepped back toward the fireplace. “But we’ll be prepared when the heir arrives. Make yourselves at home, Reyna. And Kianthe—” But it was too late; Kianthe had already deviated toward the bookshelves. Wylan heaved a sigh and waved the words away. “Never mind.”

Reyna followed him to a third armchair, perching on the edge of the cushion. Above them, a shadow moved on the second floor. Then Locke was here. No one else seemed to notice, but a slow smile crossed Reyna’s lips.

Kianthe feathered through the pages of a thick leather tome. “Our deal’s still in effect, Wylan?”

He heaved a sigh, sinking into his own armchair. His eyes met Reyna’s, and at her subtle nod, he begrudgingly answered, “Yes, yes.”

Lord Wylan was responsible for the economic prosperity of Tawney, so he had a vested interest in seeing local businesses succeed. As a result, he promised Kianthe a rare book for New Leaf each time she visited the manor. It was a bold offer that meant that Kianthe visited all the time—which was absolutely by design.

Queen Tilaine would never risk Lord Wylan’s position if the Arcandor showed him favor, after all.

Reyna accepted a mug of tea from Wylan. She inhaled the deep-amber liquid, savoring the sharp scent of cloves and cardamom, before glancing at the upper balcony. “Locke, are you planning to join us, or merely lurk in dark corners while we break bread?”

At that, Reyna helped herself to a small square of shortbread, dipping it into her mug. It absorbed the spiced tea and dissolved in her mouth, and she managed to catch a few crumbs before they sullied her outfit.

Kianthe paused in her perusal of today’s perfect tome, squinting into the shadows. “Is he here? Damn it all to hells, I thought I’d catch him this time.”

A chuckle rumbled from the upper balcony, and a figure swept down the stone staircase near the covered windows. He moved as silently as a cat on the hunt, his clothes barely rustling as he stepped down the staircase. Locke was startling to some; absurdly tall and thin, with scarred skin of light marble and owlish brown eyes. Considering he tended to stare intensely at people and lurk in the darkness, Queen Tilaine’s spymaster left most of her court unnerved.

Reyna loved him.

“Apologies, Arcandor. Next time, I’ll do my best to linger in brighter light.” A wry smile crossed the spymaster’s lips.

“That still won’t work. Try coughing. Or calling her name,” Reyna suggested.

Locke snapped his fingers. “Brilliant.”

Kianthe huffed. “Very funny. You two won’t be laughing when I spell a gust of wind to follow you around. I’d like to see you sneak when papers are blowing off the desks and drapes are flying every which way.”

The spymaster cleared his throat, leaning against the marble slab that framed the fireplace. The wrinkles on his face betrayed his age—he never revealed a number, but he had lurked around the Grand Palace as long as Reyna had been alive. “Are you still displeased that I didn’t knock when we first met? It was an honest mistake, Arcandor. I’d prefer it didn’t become an international incident.”

Reyna grimaced against the rim of her mug.

“Honest mistake?” Kianthe swelled indignantly. “You broke into our bedroom in the dead of night!”

“I picked a lock—nothing was broken. And considering your fiancée almost stabbed me, I feel we’re even.”

Reyna dipped another piece of crumbly shortbread into her tea. “Almost? I did stab you.”

“You grazed me.”

“Maybe that night, but you’re forgetting the incident when I was nine.”

Locke brushed his fingers over his arm, and the wicked scar surely hidden by the folds of his cloak. “I told your mother that your talents were wasted in the Queensguard.”

He had, and Reyna’s mother had stalwartly refused to entertain the notion. The spymaster himself held immense prestige, but his lackeys—the queen’s infamous spies—were numerous and nameless. Best to stay where your life can make a difference, her mother had remarked, and that was that. Locke faded into the shadows, and years passed before Reyna saw him again.

Now, she smirked. “My talents are marginal compared to my partner’s. With her magic, you’re lucky a blade caused your only wound.” Reyna gripped the warm mug, watching him carefully. “Now, not that we aren’t pleased for your visit, but you haven’t made the trip in weeks. There must be a reason you’re here today.”

Locke eased into a chair beside Feo. “Tessalyn, the heir to the Queendom’s throne, will arrive in Tawney very soon. Which means, very soon, it will be too late to reverse our plot. I want to ensure everyone understands the risks of this coup.”

It cast a leaden silence over the room.

Diarn Feo shifted in their seat, and at the bookshelves, Kianthe paused. Lord Wylan set his jaw. Even Reyna had to tamp down the rising fear—most days, she could pretend they weren’t about to disrupt the Realm at large and potentially destroy her home country.

Now, Locke’s icy gaze made them think twice.

The spymaster scrutinized everyone in the room, holding their gazes one by one. “This is dangerous. When Tessalyn arrives, we’ll have one chance to onboard her to the cause. If Tessalyn fails to assume the throne, or if word of her true identity leaks, Queen Tilaine will kill us all.”

“I thought her spies were under your command.” Kianthe stepped into the seating area carrying three books.

“They are—for now. Never doubt that a word from our sovereign will turn their faith. I have several officers eager for a promotion, and there won’t be a better time to prove themselves. And if they hesitate, the Queensguard won’t.” Locke spoke the words casually, as if he weren’t discussing their brutal deaths.

He wasn’t wrong about that. The Queensguard didn’t disobey. Reyna’s eyes dropped to the amber liquid in her cup.

Kianthe seemed to notice her hesitation and spoke up. “Look, the plan will work. We host a huge wedding and invite half the Realm. Dignitaries from every country will be converging on Tawney at the week’s end. Tilaine will inevitably find out, be pissed we lost her invitation, and show up anyway. And then, when no one’s expecting it, we parade Tessalyn in front of the crowd to challenge her right to the throne.”

“It’d be a flawless plan … except that no one in the Realm believes there is a lost heir,” Diarn Feo drawled. “Almost everyone on the council has dismissed it as a baseless rumor. I should know; I’ve been checking.”

Locke, meanwhile, chuckled. “Excellent. I did my job.” He tugged a small knife from a sheath hidden in his sleeve and tested the edge with his thumb. It looked intimidating … right until he started trimming his nails with it.

Diarn Feo clawed their shoulder-length hair out of their eyes. “You did something, that’s for damned sure. If you’d placed Tessalyn on the throne before Tilaine ever gained control, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

The part of Reyna still loyal to queen and crown bristled. But a good Queensguard remained silent—even a retired one. She drew a slow breath and tried to ignore the churning in her gut, the way her chest suddenly felt too tight.

Reyna had spent her life on the peripheries of important conversations, focusing on her top priority of “protecting the queen.” Now, it was boldly clear she’d found herself in a room of traitors—and she was a co-conspirator. It made her stomach flip, her palms sweat.

She suddenly understood the persistent anxiety Kianthe endured.

Locke flapped a hand. “Tilaine was the firstborn of Queen Eren, whose family line is blessed by the Gods themselves. Even if I’d wanted to, I could not simply replace Tilaine with a spare. Not until she’d had a chance to show her worth … or lack thereof.”

Lord Wylan cast a glance at the sturdy wooden door—even though it was locked and they were definitely alone. “He’s right, Feo. Sheparans may not understand it, but to imply Tilaine wasn’t fit to rule would be blasphemy. Treason.”

“Overthrowing a queen is treason, yes,” Diarn Feo said. “Here we sit, plotting it anyway.”

Reyna’s hands trembled. She set her mug down as irritation flooded through her veins. She was better than this. A season ago, after Locke’s visit, she and Kianthe had discussed their desired roles in this coup.

Her first instinct had been to refuse. Vehemently.

But the fact was, Reyna would always be tied to Tilaine—she would always be a tool of the Queendom. She had a guise of freedom here in Tawney, nothing more, and it all hinged on her ability to “control” Kianthe.

A marriage only gave Tilaine more access to elemental magic far beyond her comprehension. Reyna found her loyalties shifting from the crown to her partner as the seasons passed.

So, when Locke proposed a coup, she agreed. The Queendom would be better off with a levelheaded, logical sovereign at the helm.

But she’d never met Tessalyn. Her only indicator of the woman’s personality lay in Locke’s reports and the letters Tessalyn sent to Lord Wylan. Which meant right now, she was hinging her hopes, their futures, everything, on a specter.

It suddenly felt very nerve-racking.

Kianthe shuffled closer, stretching like she was tired of sitting alone in front of the hearth. Despite her previous proximity to the flames, her clothes barely felt warm as she leaned against Reyna’s armchair, still sitting on the floor. At no point did she acknowledge Reyna or look up from the books in her hands, but her weight against Reyna’s leg was calming.

Love swelled in Reyna’s chest. She swore she’d protect Kianthe from Tilaine, and damn it all, that’s exactly what she’d do.

They’d already had practice overthrowing a corrupt leader with Arlon. They were basically professionals at it now.

“Reyna,” Locke said slowly.

He’d noticed her hesitation. Of course he did; his entire job centered around noticing. She stiffened, pressing her lips into a firm line. Her first impulse was denial, but it was far too late for that.

So, she responded honestly. “I agree with Diarn Feo.”

The diarn coughed into their tea. “Really?”

Reyna lifted her chin. “Yes. Even with all the rumors about Tilaine’s incompetence, all the subtle work Locke’s spies have done to persuade the Queendom lords toward new leadership … none of it will matter if we can’t prove Tessalyn is Queen Eren’s blood.”

Locke flipped his knife around, sliding it back into its sheath. “I personally escorted Queen Eren into Leonol before she gave birth. I was there when this baby was born. My spies have watched her for two decades.” The spymaster’s voice took on a dark edge. “There is no mistake, Reyna. Tessalyn is the lost heir.”

“You and I may trust that.” Reyna leaned forward, pulling strength from Kianthe’s warmth at her leg. “But we aren’t enough. To convince the court, we need the Queendom lords on our side. All of them. Which means there can’t be any doubt of Tessalyn’s heritage.”

“What do you suggest?” Lord Wylan asked carefully.

Reyna swallowed past the lump in her throat, the dangerous churn of her chest. Forget treason—this bordered on blasphemy.

But to save lives, to protect the future of the Realm itself, she had little choice.

“We need a blessing from the Gods.”

Her statement hung in the air. Lord Wylan looked uncomfortable, and even Locke shifted in his seat. They both knew it was true, but she’d been the only one brave enough to voice it out loud.

Only the Sheparans—Diarn Feo and Kianthe—looked unimpressed.

Kianthe pushed to her feet, stretched, and stacked her chosen books on the table beside Reyna’s mug. She’d chosen three, Reyna noticed, although she was only supposed to take one. Based on his disgruntled expression, Wylan had noticed too.

“Okay, let me get this straight.” Kianthe rocked back on her heels. “We can’t just present an heir—which was my understanding up to this point. No, we need to show that the Gods themselves back her. Except your Gods are invisible, right?”

Kianthe and Reyna had discussed their faith before, but after a few heated debates, they’d agreed to disagree. Their relationship took priority, which meant religion was generally acknowledged as special to the individual, but inconsequential in the broader sense of their lives.

Now, Reyna was a bit embarrassed she hadn’t explained it earlier—especially considering the exasperation on Lord Wylan’s face.

“They aren’t—” Reyna cut herself off, parsing her thoughts. “Ah, your deities are easy to see. The Stars in a clear night sky, or the Stone of Seeing deep in the Magicary. Ours are like a … sensation. An assurance that they exist all around us, participating in everything we do. There’s a God for just about every facet of life, so a blessing could come from anywhere, at any time.”

“Okay … How did Queen Eren prove her blessing?” Kianthe frowned. “When the Stone of Seeing chose me to be the next Arcandor, it was a tangible gift of magic. What does a queen get from your Gods?”

Diarn Feo, ironically, was the one with an answer. Reyna shouldn’t be surprised, considering their propensity toward research.

“Queen Eren’s sixth-great-grandmother was said to have received favor from the God of Peace, which allowed her to negotiate an end to the Eons War and establish the Queendom as its own country. Her daughter was ‘blessed’ by the God of Prosperity, which apparently allowed her to discover the quarries that fund the Queendom’s economy. Every subsequent generation claimed similar advantages.” Their dry tone spoke volumes about their thoughts on that history.

“Wait. Is there a God of Puns?” Kianthe gasped, bouncing on her toes.

Despite everything, laughter bubbled in Reyna’s chest. “Yes, and I’m convinced it’s punishing me for the wrongdoings of my life.”

“It’s … pun-ishing you?”

Her partner had a true gift for lightening her mood in any situation. Reyna pulled Kianthe onto the chair’s plush arm, kissing the mage’s cheek. “Case in point.”

“Regardless”—Diarn Feo dragged them back to the conversation— “every ‘blessing’ by the Queendom royalty is intangible. Imaginary. It’s made-up, just like every religion in the Realm.”

“I’ll remember that my magic is intangible the next time your compound catches fire, Feo,” Kianthe drawled.

Feo frowned. “Why in the Realm would my compound catch—” They swallowed the words when she ignited a fireball in her palm, running the tiny flame over her knuckles like a stolen coin. Their expression flattened. “There are days I wonder why you, of every mage alive, were chosen to have such immense power.”

“Hey, me too.” Kianthe grinned.

“Much as I hate to admit it, the diarn could be right,” Locke said grudgingly. “As someone who’s spent a lifetime manipulating public opinion, you’d be shocked at how easy it is to alter memories and change experiences with a few well-placed words.”

Reyna had always been faithful, which made it very hard to look at this logically. She drew a breath to ease her tense muscles. “What are you trying to say, Locke?”

“Only that if the queens are correct in saying their lineage is handpicked by the Gods, Tessalyn won’t need a fabricated blessing. Our deities will show her favor regardless.”

“Re-god-less,” Kianthe whispered, then laughed.

Locke stroked his beard, ignoring Kianthe. “And if the Gods don’t bless Tessalyn publicly, it’s still possible to sway public opinion. The fact is that folks today are choosing between the Gods and the Stars lately. Even in the Queendom, people like the idea of a deity they can see—or more radically, no deity at all.”

Reyna frowned. In the Queensguard, they struck down disbelievers as heretics, especially in the Capital. The Gods still commanded the Grand Palace. To think it might be different elsewhere in the Queendom was … disconcerting.

She almost wished Locke were exaggerating.

Lord Wylan leaned over his knees, rubbing his jaw. “If it’s possible to sway the public without a blessing, that should be your goal this week, Locke. In the meantime, are the rest of us clear on our roles? Tessalyn was writing me, so I’ll start the week hosting her. As Tilaine begins to show interest in the wedding, we may need to relocate Tessalyn somewhere safer.”

“That’ll be my compound.” Diarn Feo smirked, almost maliciously. “I’m certain Tilaine wouldn’t intrude on a Sheparan councilmember’s property.”

“Don’t underestimate her,” Kianthe grumbled. “She thinks all of Tawney is Queendom territory, so technically you’re the one trespassing.”

Locke held up a hand. “I’ll keep Tilaine in line, and ensure she’s fed the information we need at exactly the time it’s needed. Don’t worry about relocating Tessalyn until you receive word from me.”

Feo shrugged, clearly appeased. “Perfect. In the meantime, I’ll bring the Sheparan council to the wedding, and any Leonolan dignitaries I can entice along the way. We have several invitations out; I’m just waiting to hear back from the board of regents. No matter what, I promise we’ll have enough witnesses that no one can dispute Tessalyn’s claim.”

“Perfect. Kianthe?” Wylan glanced at the Arcandor.

“My job is to get married.”

“No shit,” Feo inserted.

Kianthe stuck out her tongue at them.

“Kianthe and I will help protect Tessalyn this week, and assess her for viability to the throne,” Reyna replied before a fight could break out. Doubt filled her tone. “Like it or not, she may not be suitable as queen. At the very least, she’ll need educating on Queendom customs.”

“Stone and Stars, that’d take years to teach,” Kianthe groaned. “That’s your job, Rain. I’m just going to manage our bookshop and the pirates.”

“The pirates.” Lord Wylan pinched his brow. “I forgot. Okay, let’s break. We still have some preparations in the burnt half of town to ensure they have housing tonight.”

“Good.” Locke pushed to his feet, fluffing out his cloak. “Because I’m needed at the Capital, and Queen Tilaine will know of this wedding soon enough. Prepare yourselves, folks. This is it.”

Kianthe retrieved her books from the end table, grimacing. “No pressure.”

Reyna forced a smile she didn’t feel.

4

Kianthe

“You want to talk about it?” Kianthe asked as they stepped back inside New Leaf.

It was early afternoon now, and the sun was bright overhead. The barn was packed with people, and Gossley flitted from helping folks at the counter to wiping tables and chatting with patrons. The dragons and Ponder were gone, undoubtedly flying somewhere near dragon country now.

Reyna glanced at the patrons. Kianthe followed her gaze to see Sigmund and Nurt seated at a corner table, clearly eavesdropping on them. She waved a few fingers, and Nurt grunted, turning back to his tea.

For town informants, they were excellent at their job. As neighbors, though, they were nosy as shit.

“Talk about what, love?” Reyna smoothly retrieved her apron from the counter, collecting a few abandoned mugs to wash. “We’ve got a few hours before Dreggs arrives; perhaps we can stock the shelves before we go?”

“I’m supposed to sort teas,” Kianthe replied, trailing after her. She paused to store the three newest tomes in their bedroom. Kianthe liked to peruse new books before putting them up for sale, so she’d be nose-deep in their pages soon enough.

Reyna tilted her head. “Ah, yes. I got most of it finished before the meeting, but if you’d like to wrap up—”

“Rain.”

Reyna frowned. “What?”

“I think we should talk about—” Kianthe cut herself off, casting a glance over her shoulder.

In the corner of the shop, Sigmund and Nurt were clearly eavesdropping. Both men had twisted their chairs to face the couple, sipping their tea like they were in the front row of a Wellian theater.

“Guys,” Kianthe said pointedly. They weren’t seated so far away that she had to raise her voice. “A little privacy?”

“Privacy? Do we have that in Tawney?” Sigmund spoke with the hard consonants of a Sheparan accent, the ends whistling a bit through yellow teeth.

Nurt hummed in contemplation. “Small town, curious folk … seems like privacy went the way of our dragon attacks when you two moved into town.” He was from the Queendom, although he somehow twisted their lilting accent into something rougher. With a knowing smile, he took a long swig of his tea.

“You two are excellent at your jobs. But if you want to keep friends in us, you’ll offer privacy where it’s due.” Reyna set the mugs in a bin behind the counter and cast them a steely look.

Both of them smirked, but dutifully pivoted away.

Kianthe marveled at her partner’s ability to make friends and set boundaries at the same time. But she didn’t want to give Reyna the chance to get busy and brush this off. She poked Reyna’s shoulder. “Out back?”

Reyna contemplated her for a moment, then sighed. “Yes, it’s probably time.”

Together, they stepped onto their back patio.

It was a true oasis. Floating balls of ever-flame glimmered in the shadows of the pine trees. Two wrought iron chairs had been tucked underneath a matching table, which Reyna had decorated with a few candles. Overhead, the sky was bright blue, and a music test was clearly happening in the town square, based on the warbling string instruments that struck up every few moments.

“We just discussed some pretty scary things. Tell me how you’re feeling.” Kianthe closed the door behind them. The air was cold, and she shivered, wrapping her arms around herself.

Those words were their secret command—the verbal cue to cut the bullshit and vent for a bit. But today, Reyna didn’t seem to know what to do with it. “Everything is so complicated—I don’t know what I’m feeling. I’m nervous about the wedding. I’m terrified to disobey Her Excellency. I’m fearful the plan won’t work. And manipulating the Gods…” Reyna shuddered. “I’m not well, Key, and I won’t be for a while.”

Understandably.

Kianthe rubbed her face, drawing a breath. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.” Reyna unhooked a cloak they kept by the door specifically for Kianthe and pulled it tightly around the mage’s shoulders. The warmth enveloped her immediately, but it was Reyna’s touch against her bare hands that felt like fire. Reyna held her gaze. “I’ll survive, as I always do. I just wish this entire plan didn’t hinge on someone we’ve never met.”

“I mean, she’s been on the run for years. She can’t like Tilaine.”

Reyna’s voice was barely a whisper. “Her opinion of Tilaine might not be enough.”

That sat between them. There really wasn’t much else to say right now.

With a sigh, Reyna reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled letter. “Well, now that we have a moment, we can discuss this.” Her cheeks tinged pink, and she handed the envelope over. “I read your letter. I shouldn’t have, but … well. You can see for yourself.”

Kianthe had completely forgotten about the letter, but a glimpse of the handwriting was all it took for Kianthe’s stomach to somersault. She suddenly, vividly, knew why Reyna had waited to tell her this.

“Fuck. My parents?” She couldn’t read it. Fear might ignite her if she tried. “What do they want?”

“They’re attending the wedding.”

The statement hung in the air.

“What?” Kianthe deadpanned.

Reyna pressed her lips together. “That’s what the letter says, anyway.”

“They can’t come to our wedding.” Kianthe felt faint. She staggered to one of the chairs, slumping into it. Her eyes landed on the pinyon pine—their engagement tree, planted together the day Kianthe proposed. It was far bigger than a year-old tree had any right to be, and pollen pods had already started sprouting.

“I know.” Reyna perched on the other chair. Her tone was too gentle, irritatingly so. Maybe she felt that igniting fear too, because she seemed to feel like quiet words might soothe Kianthe’s burn.

“Why are they coming? Did you say something to them?” Betrayal stung in Kianthe’s chest. She regretted the tone instantly, had no reason to think Reyna would overstep like that, but panic was making her rash.

No wonder Reyna had wanted to table this until now.

Her partner balked, looking betrayed herself. “I swear I didn’t, Key. It’s the biggest event in the Realm. It wouldn’t surprise me if everyone is gossiping about this wedding, even in Jallin.”

“Yeah. That makes sense. Sorry.” Kianthe sank into herself, pressing her palms to her eyes. “But still … fuck.”

Reyna’s finger traced the wrought iron design along the table’s top. “What if they’re excited you’ve found someone? It’s natural for parents to celebrate their child’s joy—”

“Rain, and I mean this in the nicest way…” Kianthe clenched her eyes shut. “You will never be good enough for them.”

It was too blunt. The hurt that flashed across Reyna’s face made Kianthe want to magically dig a hole, crawl into it, and ice herself over until this entire wedding was done. She sank deeper into her chair, staring glumly at their engagement tree.

Reyna took a few moments of silence, clearly parsing what to say. She settled on: “Ah. May I ask why?”

“They want me to marry a man.”

Admitting it aloud felt fucking ridiculous—but her mother’s letters couldn’t be misconstrued. Kianthe braced herself for Reyna’s response.

She wasn’t expecting laughter.

Especially not laughter so robust it nearly rocked Reyna on her heels. She doubled over, wheezing for breath. “A—A man?” The very idea seemed to send her into another round of stitches. “Why? Do they feel a woman won’t be your equal? Shall I coat my sword in poison again to prove I can protect you? Or maybe attempt to slay one of the dragons, like the second-rate stories on our shelves?”

Kianthe’s lips tilted upward in spite of herself. “Okay, okay.”

“No, hold on. Is this a Sheparan custom?” Actual tears were rimming Reyna’s light brown eyes now, and she wiped them away, expression shining with mirth. “What can a man possibly provide that I can’t? Because when we want children, Key, the Queendom has methods to make that happen. Even Queen Tilaine has an array of male courtesans for reproducing.”

“Are you finished?” Kianthe snorted.

“Yes.” Reyna tried to straighten, compose herself, and failed miserably. Her laughter pealed across the courtyard. “No. Am I too short? I can pay the carpenter to make me stilts—”

“By the Stone of Seeing and every Star in the sky.” Kianthe was nearing laughter herself, even as she turned her gaze skyward in mock exasperation. “It’s not men in general. They want me to marry one specific man.”

Now a competitive gleam overtook Reyna’s expression. “Somehow, dear, I’m not too worried about being defeated by a singular man. Although it does make me wish you hadn’t snapped my sword in half.”

Snapped her sword in half … used magic to shatter the steel when Reyna wasn’t looking …

Semantics.

To redirect the conversation, Kianthe drawled, “You wouldn’t fight him—”

Reyna slid into the other seat, examining her nails. Her expression was intensely noncommittal.

“Never mind.” Kianthe rolled her eyes.

“He’ll be the one to determine if there’s a duel—but never doubt that I’m willing to fight for you.” Reyna smiled now, which somehow made her look more dangerous. “It’s irrelevant anyway. He lives in Jallin, I assume, and the wedding is happening here. How does he expect to intervene during our vows if he’s a continent away?”

Kianthe pinched her brow. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll be coming with them. My mother mentioned it in passing a few months ago: taking a trip to visit me, and ‘bringing Fauston.’ To reconnect, because he ‘missed me so.’”

Reyna’s lips pursed. “Just how close were you two? I was under the impression that between us, I’m the only one who has entertained non-female suitors.”

“Listen. Women have boobs. Boobs, Reyna.”

“Trust me, love, I’m aware.”

They shared a smile, but it only served to remind Kianthe of the present problem. She slumped over the wrought iron table, burying her face in her arms. The cold metal cut through her cloak, making her shiver. They should go inside.

Actually, they should probably head to the eastern side of town to receive Dreggs … and Tessalyn.

But all that felt secondary to this. Reyna deserved to know about Fauston.

“It’s like … like you and Venne.” She mentioned Reyna’s old sparring partner, her counterpart in the Queensguard. Her arms muffled her words, so she tilted her head to face Reyna. “We grew up together. Our fathers were best friends, our mothers played molem every week. We’d run around his family farm and cause general mayhem. Somewhere along the line, our families started thinking that we were destined to be together. They saw him like a second son—but I was sent to the Magicary before it could develop into anything.”

Reyna contemplated that. “Did he keep in touch?”

“Sometimes. But over the years, his letters tapered off, too.” Kianthe drew a short breath. “I really thought we’d all moved on, or I would have mentioned it. But once I started writing my parents again, they brought him up. Pretty innocently at first, but then…” She waved a hand.

“I see.” Reyna shrugged, although the motion looked more like she was rolling her shoulder to loosen her muscles before a fight. “Well. Fauston of Jallin is a little late to the party. But if he does show up, he’s welcome to some cake.”

Kianthe lifted her head up, squinting suspiciously as Reyna stood. “That’s it? Aren’t you more worried about this?”

“I can’t relate to it, dear. My mother felt that Venne would be a downgrade for me. Female pairings are always preferred in the Queendom.” Reyna offered a hand, hauling Kianthe to her feet. “If you’re not interested in Fauston, then why would I have reason to worry?”

It sounded so logical, coming from her. So simple.

Kianthe was committed to Reyna. And surely, if she told her parents that—if she told Fauston that—they’d understand. Surely, they wouldn’t traverse the entire Realm just to interrupt a planned wedding. That’d be an overreach of disproportionate measure.

Kianthe forced a smile. “Okay, yeah. You’re right.”

Reyna leaned in, pressing a kiss to her lips. It was deep and passionate and held everything Kianthe loved about their relationship. She couldn’t stop her arms from winding around Reyna’s back, pulling her closer. Much to Kianthe’s dismay, Reyna broke the kiss first and tapped her nose. “But I’ll warn you, if he does try to stop our wedding, I’ll have to fight him. Sword or no.”

“That’s … kind of sexy.”

“I’m kind of sexy.” Reyna winked and pulled away, smoothing Kianthe’s hair. “Go sort the teas before we leave. I’d like to update Sigmund and Nurt about this new development; at least then we’ll get a warning if your parents actually show up.”

Kianthe followed her inside, feeling lighter. Happier. Maybe her parents felt they knew best, but Kianthe understood what was in her soul.

Reyna was the perfect choice for her.

And if anyone felt differently, they could spit into the wind.

5

Reyna

The procession was quite the show.

Reyna expected nothing less from the Dastardly Pirate Dreggs, notorious captain and plunderer of the Southern Seas. Their base crew had over a hundred hands, and that was just on the flagship—Dreggs’s colors flew on dozens more.

They seemed to have whittled the shore party to a mere fifty, plus a few guests—but even that number would be staggering in a town as small as Tawney. And worse, this bunch was clearly rowdy; even from here, their shouts and laughter echoed.

Kianthe whistled slowly. “This should be fun.”

“Indeed.” Reyna chuckled, drawing even with Diarn Feo and Lord Wylan. Overhead, the shadows of two dragons and a griffon cut across the plains. Reyna could only hope they didn’t land and stir the chaos.

“It’s been an age.” Lord Wylan pushed back his sandy hair. His fair skin was already burning in the late afternoon sunshine—a tinge of red covered his cheeks and nose. He’d changed outfits after their meeting, too. The new one was carefully chosen and meticulously tailored: a long black coat with golden studs—and gold thread reminiscent of dragon wings embroidered on the back—slacks, and dress boots.

Perfect Queendom attire for a perfect Queendom lord.

“You look excellent,” Lord Wylan commented.

Reyna swelled in pride. She’d changed before they left, slid into a nicer shirt that flared at the waist and tucked into formfitting slacks. The belt for her scabbard was gone, but she’d replaced it with a dress belt instead.

“Thank you, my lord,” she replied, lifting her chin. “I figured we should make a good impression for our future queen.”

The words had both of them exchanging a nervous glance. Classifying Tessalyn as such felt … final. It added weight to their plan, and made her remember Locke’s ominous words today: This is it.

Kianthe crossed her arms. “What about me? I fixed my hair for this.” Her short, wild hair had indeed been twisted at the base of her skull and clipped into place. Unfortunately, half the strands were falling out, so Kianthe probably shouldn’t have bothered.

Diarn Feo rolled their eyes, the motion so exaggerated no one missed it.

Kianthe stuck out her tongue at them.

“You are always stunning, love,” Reyna said, and meant it.

Kianthe flushed under her praise, then smugly told Feo, “See?”

The diarn sniped back, “She’s clearly not paying attention,” which garnered an indignant gasp from Kianthe. If the pair were fifteen years younger, they’d have probably started wrestling. As it was, Feo smirked and Kianthe glowered and Reyna heaved an exasperated sigh.

Meanwhile, Lord Wylan had resumed staring at the huge crowd trudging across the icy tundra. There was a forest far to the east, bordering the sea, but it was barely a dark smudge from here. All that surrounded the pirates were melting snow and a muddy road.

“Are you worried?” Reyna adjusted her positioning beside Lord Wylan, same as she would have done for Queen Tilaine once upon a time. It was habit, assuming a protective stance when faced with a potential threat.

Dreggs, and with them, Serina and Bobbie—they weren’t the threat.

But Tessalyn … she couldn’t be sure.

Lord Wylan smoothed his jacket, a nervous tic Reyna had noticed a year ago. “About so many things, yes.”

Reyna could relate. She drew a slow breath. “Do we have a backup plan, if she’s not … right?”

It was the issue none of them wanted to voice, the problem easy to forget under Locke’s assurances. The standards for “better than Tilaine” were immensely low, but there was always a slight chance Tessalyn wouldn’t meet them.

What then?

“I … suppose we’ll find another suitable royal. Or forgo the coup entirely, and all of this is for nothing.” Wylan shifted his weight.

Reyna hesitated. “Well, we’d still have a wedding worth remembering.”

Now Lord Wylan flinched, like he’d forgotten about the wedding entirely. “Ah, yes. Of course. The marriage of a generation.”

Finally rejoining the conversation, Diarn Feo stepped to Wylan’s other side and snorted. “Of an entire generation? That’s a bit much.”

“Hey.” Kianthe elbowed the councilmember. “It’s a once in a … wifetime … event.”

Oh Gods. Reyna couldn’t stifle her snort of laughter. Meanwhile, Diarn Feo stared at Kianthe like she’d personally buried a knife in their chest. Their words were pulled through gritted teeth. “You are a menace.”

“Only some days.” Kianthe winked.

But even that humor faded as tension settled like snow on their shoulders. After a bit, no one seemed willing to speak. Kianthe magicked a short boulder out of the ground and sprawled over it. Diarn Feo picked at their nails. Lord Wylan rocked back and forth on his heels. Only decades of training kept Reyna eerily still, her hand drifting to her hip.

Gods, she truly wished she had her sword.

But the procession was finally close enough that two horses peeled away from the group, galloping across the last stretch of road. Dreggs—and Diarn Bobbie. Both were instantly recognizable: Dreggs for their tanned skin and sharp eyes; Bobbie for her rigid posture even on horseback.

The pair pulled up, and Captain Dreggs wasted no time leaping off their horse’s back.

When Reyna had first met Dreggs, she genuinely thought they were only ten years her senior. She now knew that was false—that Dreggs was solidly middle-aged, closer to Locke than any of them.

But considering how lithely Dreggs moved, how muscular their form, it was a “fact” fiercely debated between her, Matild, and Kianthe. As if to prove it, Dreggs pivoted from a hard landing into a thundering run and all but crashed into Reyna and Kianthe.

Reyna choked on a laugh, the breath wheezing from her crushed lungs.

Beside her, Kianthe gasped, “Where’s Matild when we need her? Bragging rights.”

“It should be bragging rights. You two just got the first hug with my new additions.” Dreggs fixed their hat, which rested over long black hair stranded with silver, then tugged their cloak open to reveal two … breasts. Well, the swells of ones, anyway, poking out from a very low-cut shirt. Satisfied at their stares, Dreggs jiggled their chest. “Never had these before. Aren’t they lovely? Found an alchemist who’s been doing some very odd experiments in the Roiling Islands. I think they fit me perfectly.”

“Well, now I’m all kinds of curious.” Kianthe grinned.

“Key,” Reyna drawled. “You’re engaged. To me, I might add.”

Kianthe rolled her eyes. “I’ll remember that the next time Drunk Reyna starts flirting with the pirates again.”

“Ah, the wedding!” A poorly crocheted scarf was tied around their neck like a cravat, and Dreggs lovingly tucked it inside their cloak as they covered up again. “I must congratulate the lucky couple. Are you excited?”

Bobbie calmly dismounted, patting her horse’s neck. It wasn’t the horse she kept at her estate, Reyna noticed—the stallion Bobbie used to chase Serina up and down the Nacean River last fall. The ex-constable raised an eyebrow in Dreggs’s direction. “I hope they’d be excited for their wedding.”

Reyna pulled her into a hug too. “Good to see you, Bobbie. Did Serina stay with the group?”

“The pirates she’s idolized for decades? I may lose her to the Southern Seas after this trip.” The deadpan, almost-not-joking tone was impossible to miss. Bobbie seemed to realize it and moved forward quickly. “Plus, we only have two horses.”

“We didn’t steal them,” Dreggs said pointedly.

Bobbie massaged her temples, like this was a long-standing debate.

Reyna deviated from the topic. “Are you enjoying life at Arlon’s old estate?”

Now Bobbie flushed, her umber skin tinging red in the afternoon sunshine. “It’s fine. Serina isn’t wrong for calling it ‘pretentious.’ But the extra rooms in his manor are useful for folk who need a temporary living situation. It’s helping a lot of people get back on their feet.” At Kianthe’s proud grin, she shrugged, rubbing one arm. “Look. I may as well use the space for something.”

Kianthe pulled her into a hug, ruffling her tight curls fondly. “You’re killing it. Even the council agrees.”

At that, Diarn Feo cleared their throat. “Don’t think it’s special treatment. We discuss all new diarns—and now are implementing procedures to inspect the established ones. You’re performing to standard.”

“‘Performing to standard,’” Kianthe repeated, deadpan.

Diarn Feo inhaled through their nose, averted their eyes. “You are, admittedly, outperforming most diarns in our new citizen satisfaction polls.”

Now Bobbie seemed to glow. Her bright green eyes widened, and she pulled back her shoulders like a soldier receiving honors. “Th-thank you, Diarn Feo.” Without any explanation, she tugged a set of tiny crocheted animals out of her bag—a hawk, a wolf, a dragon—and distributed them to Feo, Wylan, and Kianthe, respectively.

Kianthe squealed, holding the stuffed creature to the sky, comparing it to the baby dragons still circling overhead. “It’s so cute.”

“It’s something,” Feo muttered, but even they didn’t have the heart to sound reproachful. They gingerly tucked the hawk into their pocket, patting it when they thought no one was looking. Wylan, meanwhile, accepted the gift with all the prestige of a Queendom representative making a peace treaty. He even bowed, which seemed to fluster Bobbie more.

With the distraction, Dreggs caught Reyna’s eyes and flicked their fingers, indicating she should follow. Reyna drew a slow breath and stepped off to the side, keeping her back to the group as Dreggs assessed her.

“You weren’t fully honest with me.” Gone was Dreggs’s friendly tone, replaced instead with the sharp curiosity of someone knee-deep in a cutthroat career. “Because when we set sail, it was under the pretense that we came for combat support in case Tilaine interrupted the wedding.”

When Tilaine interrupted the wedding.

“That is correct,” Reyna replied levelly. “Most Tawneans aren’t trained for a true fight. Your pirates are.”

Dreggs crossed their arms. “Then pray tell, dear. Why did you have me smuggle a young woman and her escort out of Leonol?”

Her escort?

It made sense that Tessalyn would have some form of security, especially if Locke helped hide her two decades ago. But an escort meant one more person who could potentially destroy the plan.

Reyna filed that information away, refocusing with a slow breath through her nose. The air was clean, scented with pine needles and dust, familiar enough to settle her nerves.

Dreggs deserved to know, and there wasn’t much hope of keeping it secret now that they’d arrived in town. She made an executive decision and lowered her voice further. “We’re going to overthrow Queen Tilaine.”

“Stars above. I knew there was a scheme for something, but that’s quite ambitious.” Dreggs’s lips tilted up begrudgingly. “Still, Mister Mom owes me two bottles of Kollean wine for that bet.”

It was ambitious. Reyna glanced over her shoulder at the others: two diarns, one lord, and the Arcandor herself. Fear fluttered in her gut, more and more common these days. So many powerful people gathered in one spot … a spot that was half Queendom territory.

This had to work.

“We’ve got a plan. It will be fine.”

“Sure, sure. Plans are infallible. And that young woman … she’s tied to this plot somehow?”

Maybe it was Reyna’s imagination, but Dreggs’s voice sounded disapproving.

“She is.” The rest of Dreggs’s group was much closer now, nearly within earshot, so Reyna spoke fast: “Can you tell me anything about her?”

Dreggs shrugged. “She’s smarter than the five hells, your precious Gods, and maybe the Stars above. Leonol treated her well, and she’s spent her life at that university. I could barely pry her out of my library. If your game is manipulation, you may want an easier target.”

Hopefully manipulation wouldn’t be needed. “I see. And her companion?”

“He says he’s a friend.” Dreggs chuckled. “He talks like a Queensguard, but doesn’t walk like one. Not like you do … or your mother did.” Now the pirate captain nudged Reyna’s shoulder, offering a suggestive wink. Reyna pursed her lips, but Dreggs moved on: “A Leonolan stranger, a not-quite-Queensguard, and an entire company of ruthless pirates, all converging to orchestrate a coup on a terrible queen. I’ll be interested to see where the dust settles.”

“Then you’re sticking around?” Hope filtered into Reyna’s voice. She half expected Dreggs to load up their pirates and sail home, after learning the truth.

But the infamous captain simply raised an eyebrow. “I came for a wedding, and I’m not leaving before you cut the cake. But no more secrets, Reyna. It’s not a good look for you—especially when you’re dealing with me.”

Leaving her on that note, Dreggs rejoined the group seamlessly … and not a moment too soon.

The rest of their pirates had arrived.

Reyna was surprised to see how burly and fierce they all looked. Aboard Dreggs’s flagship, they had literal families, and systems in place to protect the children during sea battles. But none of those more vulnerable folk were here today. Dreggs had clearly requested the best fighters of the Painted Death to take ashore.

Several carried huge trunks, several more had bulky packs of supplies. At the center of it was Serina, chatting enthusiastically with a woman slightly younger than Reyna herself. Behind the women lurked the “escort” Dreggs mentioned, squinting suspiciously at anyone who got too close.

A not-quite-Queensguard.

Reyna’s lips tilted upward. It was instantly obvious what Dreggs meant: the boy stood like a fresh-faced recruit, someone who hadn’t been raised within the Grand Palace walls. At his hip was a familiar sword, Queensguard issued.

Interesting.

A squeal cut through the air, and Serina catapulted herself forward. “Reyna! Kianthe! Are you so excited?” The woman, curvy and boisterous, pulled each of them into a hug nearly as crushing as Dreggs’s. She was wearing a sad excuse for a crocheted hat—a blue monstrosity with an oversized pompom—but she tugged it tight over her ears and gripped Reyna’s forearms. “It is fucking freezing here. Why didn’t you tell me this place is like Lathe?”

“Serina, this is warm.” Reyna’s voice tinged with amusement.

The ex-pirate tapped a five-pointed star on her chest. “Stars above. And here I thought this would be a vacation.”

Bobbie moseyed over, heaving a long-suffering sigh. “What she means to say is, ‘We’re happy to see you. Also, congratulations.’”

Serina flapped a hand. “Yes, yes. Hey. What’s the deal with Tessalyn?”

The young woman had been left in the crowd of pirates, murmuring to her male companion. She was wearing a nondescript cloak, with long hair styled to hide defining features. But even from here, Reyna could see a hint of Queen Tilaine’s jawline, of their sovereign’s ocean-blue eyes.

It was unsettling. It took everything Reyna had to pull her gaze away, to feign neutrality. “She’s a guest of Lord Wylan.”

They would update Serina and Bobbie on the plan. Just … later. In private.

It wasn’t good enough. Serina smirked slyly. “Come on, Reyna. The Dastardly Pirate Dreggs docking near Leonol’s capital city just to board two … what? Stragglers? Refugees? Something’s happening.”

It had been half a year—Reyna had forgotten how intuitive the ex-pirate was. If she wasn’t dead set on staying on the Nacean River with Bobbie to help improve their communities, Serina could have had any career she wanted, in any country she chose.

“I wouldn’t know,” Reyna lied. “But we’re so excited to show you two around. Tawney is a very quaint town.”

Considering Serina was from Lathe—a town as small as Tawney, but on the opposite side of the Realm—her dry laughter tracked. “Quaint. Right.”

Kianthe appeared at Reyna’s side, nudging her. “Wylan’s on the move. Should we join?”

“Join what?” Serina asked.

Reyna waved her off, mind racing. “Not yet.” Her attention had shifted from Tessalyn—the lost heir, Her Excellency’s half sister—to the young man at her side. As Lord Wylan greeted Tessalyn, his hand drifted to the sword at his hip, as if gauging if Wylan was a threat.

An almost-Queensguard.

Reyna smirked.

At her side, Kianthe heaved a sigh. “Why do I feel like you’re already deviating from the plan, Rain?”

“Reyna has seventeen plans at any given point. Which one are you talking about?” Serina drawled, rolling her eyes. She redirected her attention to Tessalyn, briefly. “Whatever you’re thinking, be gentle. She’s really nice.”

“I’m hardly planning to hurt her,” Reyna protested.

Serina shrugged a shoulder. “With you, it’s hard to tell sometimes.”

Diarn Feo clapped their hands, attempting to gain everyone’s attention. “We’ve set up housing for you all in the burnt half of Tawney.” Despite their best efforts, their voice was lost in the din of conversation.

Mister Mom stepped ominously to Feo’s side, then cupped his hands to bellow, “Oi. Listen up, you lot!” His voice carried across the plains, loud enough to make most of them flinch. The pirates swiveled to Diarn Feo.

Feo cleared their throat. “Yes. Well. The town has spent decades under siege by dragons. They’re no longer a nuisance, and we’ve repurposed the burnt half of town for visitors this week. Still, these buildings … while mostly habitable … may have some quirks. The Mage of Ages did her best to reinforce things, but if you feel the roof might cave in, or the floors might give out … don’t stay inside.”

“Yikes,” one pirate muttered.

“Don’t be rude,” Dreggs said, and the pirate stiffened. Everyone else clamped their mouths shut. Dreggs smirked, gesturing for Diarn Feo to continue.

Meanwhile, Lord Wylan subtly led Tessalyn and the not-Queensguard away from the group, back toward his manor.

Feo kept the pirates’ attention: “We’ll be hosting a welcome feast for you after sunset in the town square. The townsfolk are thrilled to greet you, and there will be plenty of festivities throughout the week. Enjoy your stay.”

“And if any of you pillage this fine place, we’ll go back to the days of old. A hand for a hand, and all that nonsense.” Dreggs flashed a charming smile—but it had a predator’s edge. At Dreggs’s side, Mister Mom crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes for emphasis.

The pirates shifted, chuckling nervously. One chimed, “Aye,” and it started a chorus of the same. The group headed for town, following Diarn Feo. Dreggs mounted their not-stolen horse and winked at Reyna and Kianthe, then trotted after everyone.

Serina and Bobbie were left.

“So. When do I get to meet the famous Matild?” Serina rubbed her hands together. “Another Dreggs fan. She’ll be dying to hear the dirt I gathered during this trip.”

Bobbie rolled her eyes and mounted her own horse. “I’ll just … find the stables.” And with a kick, she was off too.

Serina didn’t seem at all fazed at her girlfriend’s departure, which fazed Reyna and Kianthe a lot. They exchanged a tentative glance, and Reyna asked, “Ah, is everything okay with you two?”

Serina’s shoulders slumped, and she picked up her pace. She didn’t know where they were walking, but she was going there fast. “Bobbie’s not very happy we sailed halfway around the Realm instead of riding inland from the estate. But Dreggs offered me—me—a spot on the Painted Death! How could I pass that up?”

They had some time before the feast. Kianthe seemed to realize it, because she pivoted toward New Leaf instead of the inn. “Uh oh. Trouble in paradise?”

“She just didn’t understand.” Serina tossed her arms up, glaring in the direction Bobbie had ridden. “I told her if she wanted to cross a continent on foot, she could go alone. But that just pissed her off.”

Reyna winced.

“No shit.” Kianthe chuckled.

Serina heaved a sigh. “It wasn’t my finest moment. But she’s held a grudge the entire trip, even though I’ve apologized. What more does she want?”

Reyna gestured down Lindenback, the road that housed their barn. “Couples don’t exist in a perpetual state of happiness. It takes work.”

“Lies.” Kianthe tugged the pins out of her hair, giving up the pretense. It fell just over her shoulders instead, and she scratched her scalp in relief. “I’m always happy. It’s effortless.”

It was such a bold claim that Reyna snorted, which garnered a sly grin from Kianthe. Affection washed over her, and she patted the mage’s arm. “I’ll remember that the next time you complain about cleaning our washroom, dear.”

Serina didn’t seem to notice the buildings they passed, or the people who waved at them, or the flowers planted along the path. She just shuffled along the dirt road, hands in her pockets, that blue crocheted hat pulled tight over her ears. “You two really make it seem effortless. I guess after everything last year, I expected it to be—”

“Easy?” Kianthe drawled.

Normally, Serina’s skin was as rich as a strand of wheat. Now it shifted to an embarrassed pink tinge. “Um. Yeah.”

Pity took root in Reyna’s chest, and she bumped Serina’s shoulder. “Luckily, most issues can be solved over a cup of tea.”

“And if not tea, a good how-to book might help.” Kianthe smirked. “I have plenty to recommend. We just got a copy of Seventeen Symbols of Sex last week—it’s full of raunchy—”

“Key.”

Kianthe clamped her mouth shut, gaze turning skyward. “Ah, maybe just the tea, for now.”

Serina laughed in spite of everything. “Stars, I missed you two. Glad to be here, even if the journey stirred up some drama.”

“We’re happy to have you.” As they approached the barn in all its repurposed glory, pride swelled in Reyna’s chest. She gestured at it. “Welcome to New Leaf Tomes and Tea, Tawney’s premier bookshop and tea house.”

Serina ran up to it, her enthusiasm contagious. “It’s gorgeous!”

“You think this is great, wait until you see our baby dragons.” Kianthe bounced on her toes.

Serina gasped. “Stars, they hatched already? I cannot wait.”

In spite of everything, it was a good day.

6

Kianthe

“Do we really think parading Tessalyn around during the feast is a smart idea?” Kianthe puffed air at her bangs, trying to get them out of her eyes.

It was evening now, and the party was in full swing near the town square. They’d chatted with Serina—and Bobbie, who’d joined them shortly after—and then left them at the local inn. As they walked to Lord Wylan’s manor, Reyna had gotten progressively quieter. Kianthe wanted nothing more than to turn her partner around, pull up a chair at the tavern, and hand Reyna a glass of wine.

Instead, they were standing in Lord Wylan’s very cold, very sad “garden,” which was really just a courtyard with empty planters and dead trees. Ralund must be focused on other, more important things—like standing at attention near ancient oil paintings—rather than borrowing seeds from their local elemental mage.

Absurd.

Reyna glanced at the inky night sky. Firelight from the blazing torches half illuminated her skin. “I think hiding her will only stoke curiosity. Better to set a story tonight that she’s a guest of ours, rather than spark rumors.” Despite their close proximity, she sounded distracted. Absent.

They’d done a lot today. It was understandable that Reyna would be processing things at a slower rate. But this week—the wedding, the coup—wouldn’t be easy on Reyna. Kianthe just didn’t know how to help.

“Hey.” She bumped Reyna’s shoulder. “Tell me how you’re feeling.”

Reyna detached from her side, which was a damn shame considering how cold it was. She rubbed her arms, biting her lower lip. “I thought I was fine.” She drew a breath, turned to face Kianthe. In the firelight, her brown eyes seemed almost as black as the space between stars. “I don’t think that’s true anymore.”

“The fact that you’re fine for most of what we endure is shocking,” Kianthe said, deadpan. When Reyna didn’t laugh, Kianthe’s tone softened. “You’re one of the strongest people I know, but no one expects you to keep that front all the time.”

“It’s not a front. It’s everything I am.” Reyna drew a slow breath, like she was holding back tears. “Tessalyn looks so much like Queen Tilaine. My old charge—the woman I swore I’d protect with my life. And now, here I am … plotting her demise.”

A sharp stab of regret had Kianthe grimacing. She’d never wanted to whisk Reyna from Tawney, but tonight—she could almost imagine summoning Visk and Ponder and flying far, far away.

Reyna clenched her eyes shut, pressing her palms to her forehead. “Gods, my mother would be so ashamed … and my uncle.” She released a shuddering sigh, tears collecting in her eyes. “Key, I’m betraying everyone who’s ever loved me.”

“You could never betray me, and I love you more than anything.” Kianthe opened her arms. It was telling that Reyna immediately stepped into her embrace, circling Kianthe’s waist and burying her face in Kianthe’s shoulder. She was trembling, so slight it could be written off by the icy wind of early spring.

Kianthe knew better.

“The sad thing is,” Reyna mumbled against Kianthe’s cloak, “I know it’s for the best. I know Tilaine is unstable, and I know we can’t give her more access to your magic. But I was raised to idolize her. How can I combat that?”

Kianthe contemplated it for a moment, choosing her words carefully. She held her partner tight. Around them, the wind seemed to still, the very air hushing all sound of the distant party. “You swore a duty to crown and country. Right?”

“If you’re being technical, yes.”

“I know you, Rain. You’re as loyal as they come—but your duty is to protect the Queendom, not one woman. By that measure, you’re taking more steps to ensure its prosperity than your mother or uncle ever did.”

Reyna chuckled, her words watery. “That’s taking quite a few liberties with my old oath.”

“You abandoned that oath when you left the Grand Palace to open a bookshop with me.” Kianthe smirked, resting her chin on Reyna’s head. “What do you want, Reyna? In your soul, who are you determined to protect?”

“You.” Reyna’s response was so immediate, it sent a shock of warmth down Kianthe’s spine.

She laughed out loud. “Okay, fair. After that, though?”

“I…” Reyna trailed off, going quiet. “I want what’s best for my country. We know what Tilaine’s rule looks like, and it’s made the Queendom an unacknowledged enemy to Shepara and Leonol. We can be better. Tessalyn might make us better.”

Brilliant.

Kianthe grinned, pressing a kiss to her partner’s forehead.

“There we go. I know you’re scared, Rain. But that fear is curdling inside you, masking itself as determination even as it’s making you sick. Don’t forget why we agreed to this in the first place. Likewise, don’t forget that you are in the company of some very powerful people. This is not on you alone, and any consequences of it are not your fault. Okay?”

Reyna pulled away, looking very small in this dead garden. Her chuckle was strained. “Why do I feel like our roles have reversed?”

Kianthe shrugged. “Listen, one of us has to be sane. Just because I’m usually panicking doesn’t mean I can’t step up sometimes, too.” A sly smile crossed her features. “And you know what? If this gets to be too stressful, we’ll take Visk and Ponder and fly to Koll and drink wine while everyone else figures this shit out.”

“That sounds wildly irresponsible.” Reyna wiped her eyes.

Kianthe pretended not to notice. “You’re my primary concern, not some scheme. I’m good with being irresponsible.”

A long moment passed, during which Reyna stepped a bit closer and Kianthe draped an arm over her shoulders and they both admired the sea of stars overhead. In the distance, the feast was in full swing, and raucous laughter echoed through the night.

“Did you know that there’s a God of Good Fortune?” Reyna asked.

It was scary how fast Reyna could slide her mask back into place. A topic for another time, Kianthe supposed. “Like, gambling, good fortune?”

Reyna laughed, taken aback. “No. It’s more focused on chance meetings that positively change the course of a life. Only royalty can claim a blessing from the Gods, but … Key, I really do believe the God of Good Fortune blessed me the day we met.”

Kianthe melted. Tawney had a notoriously terrible ley line, but there was enough magic to spark the air with tiny glimmers of light. She might honestly be glowing from the inside out. “Well, shit. And here I thought I was being creepy, stalking you through the Grand Palace’s halls after our eyes met for two breaths.”

“Oh my Gods.” Reyna laughed, shoving her away.

“Look, you’re the one who yanked me into your room.”

“Because someone was going to see us. A lowly guard can’t be consorting with the Arcandor.”

“All I remember is offering a pun, which you were clearly into—”

Reyna’s cheeks were red with embarrassment. “You are impossible.” She stepped closer, pressed a fast kiss to Kianthe’s lips—one that still left Kianthe’s mind spinning. Even better when Reyna whispered, “I love you. Thank you for tonight.”

“Well, you can’t be the only one fixing our problems. That’d be embarrassing for me.”

“Ah. I didn’t realize I was being so insensitive.”

Kianthe sniffed. “Do better next time.”

A gleam overtook Reyna’s eyes. “Shall I schedule these breakdowns in advance? Perhaps two a season, with a curated list for fast recovery? I’ll accept a tea blend of your choice, complemented by a stern talking-to and post-discussion cuddling.”

“Don’t forget to work in a sweet pastry.” Kianthe grinned. “You know. Something you baked beforehand, because we both know I’m terrible at that.”

Reyna started laughing, and Kianthe joined her, and of course that’s when Lord Wylan stepped into the garden with Tessalyn and her guard. Kianthe struggled to smooth her expression, to present herself as the calm and collected Arcandor, but it was a poor attempt.

Reyna gripped her arm, gasping for breath, and managed to wheeze, “Look professional.”

It sent Kianthe into another peal of laughter.

Lord Wylan paused at the garden’s edge, pointedly clearing his throat. “Ah, Miss Tessalyn. Allow me to introduce Kianthe, the Arcandor, the Mage of Ages, and her partner, Reyna, Tawney’s premier tea maker.”

“I got an upgrade,” Reyna whispered, probably because she knew it’d make Kianthe laugh harder.

It did.

“Stop it; I’m going to pee myself,” Kianthe begged.

Across the clearing, Tessalyn snorted. Behind her, the guard’s lips quirked upward. Lord Wylan pinched his brow and turned to his guests. “As you can see, the Arcandor is quite personable. She’s not as intimidating as some rumors imply.”

“Excuse you. I’m so intimidating,” Kianthe called, cupping her hands so they heard—although the garden wasn’t very large and they were fast approaching.

Lord Wylan flinched, but recovered quickly. “Meanwhile, Reyna is a retired Queensguard; her swordsmanship is the best in town. Between the two of them, you’ll be quite safe at tonight’s festivities.”

Reyna had composed herself ridiculously fast, all things considered. Her expression was perfectly smooth, her stance relaxed and approachable. She smiled brilliantly and swept into a formal bow. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance”—a swift pause, when Kianthe could visibly see Reyna wrestling with titles, before settling on—“Miss Tessalyn.” It seemed to cause her actual agony to refrain from Tessalyn’s proper title, which would probably be Her Royal Highness or Her Almost Excellency.

Kianthe made a note to ask about that later.

Reyna finished smoothly with, “Whatever the nature of your visit, we’re happy to host a visiting Leonolan dignitary.”

“I’m hardly a dignitary. Please, call me Tessa. I’m here on sabbatical from the university,” she said, her tone measured. “Just for the summer, studying the sociological implications of a town nestled between two very different countries.”

Well, she’d certainly gotten her cover story straight. And she must think they didn’t talk to Wylan, like, at all. Kianthe barely refrained from laughing again.

Reyna’s eyebrow quirked upward. “I see. And your companion?”

“My guard, James.” Tessa sighed, like it was one big inconvenience. “My family worries.”

James was tall and broad-shouldered, with hair cropped so short it was nearly shaved. He bowed at the acknowledgment, but didn’t speak. His Queensguard sword was strapped to his hip.

Clearly, Tessalyn knew her true identity, or she wouldn’t be going to such lengths to hide it. It was both impressive … and sad.

Reyna had spent an entire season living in perpetual paranoia, fearing the moment Queen Tilaine heard of her location and hunted her down. It was exhausting for both of them. If Tessalyn wanted to live the lie a bit longer, Kianthe couldn’t blame her.

Reyna wasn’t so kind.

“A Queensguard sword, I see. With Queen Eren’s sigil stamped in the hilt … Was your family in the Grand Palace, James?”

Sometimes, Kianthe forgot that a large part of Reyna’s old job was interrogation of potential assassins. Now she allowed a pretty smile to linger on her lips, appearing as innocent as her tone of voice implied.

James stiffened, casting an almost accusatory glance at Tessa. When the heir met his gaze with an equally forceful stare, he muttered something under his breath and replied, “My mother and my aunt were. It was a long time ago.”

“My mother, also.” Reyna’s expression dropped, like she was angry and humiliated all at once. Another act, but a damned convincing one. “She died protecting Queen Eren. It made me rethink … everything, actually. I can’t blame you for sticking to Leonol.”

“Oh.” James relaxed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“And you, for yours. I assume you wouldn’t have that sword otherwise.”

She’d clearly struck a chord, because James hunched a bit. “Yeah. Thank you.”

It was a dance, and Kianthe was enchanted. With just a few sentences, Reyna had acknowledged their perceived threat of her, and dispelled it by reasserting new loyalties. Nothing was sexier to Kianthe than watching Reyna work. Heat swept under her collar, and she loosened her cloak to feel the cold night air.

Reyna’s knowing smirk proved she’d seen.

Kianthe cleared her throat, trying to keep Reyna from her mind. “Well, the night isn’t getting younger. You’ve already met Dreggs and their crew, but if you stick with us, we’ll introduce you to all the best spots in town.” There was exactly one spot in town to drink—the local inn, which doubled as a tavern—but that was hardly impressive. “Wylan, you coming?”

The lord waved a hand. “Regretfully, Diarn Feo wants to explore some proposals for bolstering the economic—”

“Tonight? I figured Feo would be asleep soon.” Kianthe crossed her arms.

Lord Wylan cleared his throat, although a flush crept up his face. “No, not quite. There are policies to discuss.”

Reyna chuckled. “Of course. In for a long night, I imagine.”

The suggestion made that flush climb all the way to his cheeks. “It’s exclusively business, I assure you.”

“You don’t have to assure us of anything,” Reyna replied.

Kianthe stifled a laugh.

Their reaction made Lord Wylan even more embarrassed. He bowed deeply, first to Tessa and James, then to Kianthe and Reyna, and hastened into the manor. Once the door closed in his wake, Kianthe said, “You owe me five sils.”

“I owe you?” Reyna snorted. “Dear, it’s been so long you’ve forgotten our bet. You thought they’d murder each other … which means you owe me five sils, not the other way around.” She pecked a kiss to Kianthe’s cheek and faced their guests. “Now, shall we attend the party? Matild, Tawney’s midwife, has an excellent stash of Kollean wine; I’m certain we’ll get a taste tonight.”

“Drunk Reyna,” Kianthe breathed.

They exited the garden’s external wall and stepped down a tree-lined path toward town, but hadn’t made it more than a few steps before Tessa caught up to Kianthe. Almost simultaneously, James struck up a casual conversation with Reyna, walking slowly enough that Kianthe and Tessa pulled ahead. Not far, but enough to simulate privacy.

“Arcandor,” Tessa whispered, an edge of urgency to her words. “Is there somewhere we can go to chat … privately? I wasn’t entirely honest before; we’re in dire need of your help.”

All mirth faded. Were they actually in danger? Locke had implied Tilaine’s spies were under his control, awaiting his command—but maybe that wasn’t true. Kianthe frowned. “Is everything all right?”

“No. But I can’t discuss it here. Please, it must be kept a secret … even from your fiancée.”

Normally that would make Kianthe laugh and laugh—but tonight, they were on the same page without any words. Tonight, Kianthe was ready to befriend the heir, convince her to reclaim her rightful throne for the good of the Queendom.

It would be tough to enjoy married life if they failed in this coup, after all, on account of all the The penalty is death bullshit.

Kianthe nodded. “Okay. Once Reyna gets some wine, she’ll stay busy; she won’t even notice we left.” Another lie. Kianthe could be a spy herself, with all this. Spymaster Kianthe. Was that cooler than the Mage of Ages, or no?

Tessa breathed a sigh. “Thank you. I’ll follow your lead, Arcandor.”

Right. Hopefully this worked.

7

Reyna

Tawney could host some damn good parties.

As they approached the town square, the sharp, woodsy scent of a bonfire lingered in the cold air. A stack of concentrated smoke billowed above the houses, and exuberant chatter became a symphony that drowned out Tawney’s typical noise: wind rustling the pine trees, frogs croaking, the occasional dragon grumble.

It was almost enough to make Reyna forget her earlier concerns.

“Finally showing up for the merriment, huh?” Sasua called as they passed. Janice, one of their best bakers, pushed a flask Sasua’s way, laughing as they dropped in messy unison to her porch’s stoop. Sasua took a long drink. “Pirates are fun, aren’t they?”

“Did one catch your eye?” Janice giggled.

“Please,” Sasua muttered, but her eyes gleamed.

Kianthe corralled Tessa and James toward the town square. Reyna broke off, crossing her arms with an amused smirk. “Where’s your son, Sasua? Enjoying a night off?”

“My husband and a few others volunteered to watch the kids,” Janice offered, stealing the flask back from Sasua. Her light cheeks were red from the cold and booze. “They’re calling it a sleepover night. Or was it sleep overnight?”

“What’s the difference?” Sasua grinned.

Janice shrugged. “’S important. We might make them do it again. Gotta know what it’s called.”

Reyna laughed, stepping after Kianthe and their company. “We’ll leave you to it. Enjoy the night, ladies. And if it matters, I have it on good authority that any of Dreggs’s pirates will be courteous.”

Sasua bit her lower lip. “Hmm.”

Reyna waved and strolled into the town square. As expected, a huge bonfire was blazing in the center; they’d taken down the noticeboard to make room for it. Dreggs’s pirates were social folk, and they mingled well enough with Tawneans. Serina and Bobbie appeared to have made amends—for tonight, at least—because they were kissing in the shadows between the florist’s shop and the bakery.

Kianthe held the inn’s door open for Reyna, and they stepped inside—but it was so packed they had to muscle past sweaty bodies just to reach the counter. Hansen and his wife were bustling behind the tavern’s bar, and Hansen nodded when Reyna flagged him down.

“Coming right up, Reyna,” he called, and retrieved four more mugs. “Unless you’re drinking Matild’s smuggled wine again?”

Reyna puffed a sigh. “Listen, when you get a vintage Kollean blend from two generations ago, I’ll happily order from you instead.”

Hansen offered a deep laugh. “Sure, sure.”

“We should wait outside,” James muttered to Tessa. Despite the hushed tone, his hand gripped his sword like he might try to wield a blade that long in this crowded tavern. Surrounded by pirates, the Mage of Ages, and Reyna herself.

What a comical mistake that’d be.

To save him the embarrassment, Reyna tapped his arm. “A dagger works better in tight spaces. You have a dagger, right?”

“Two.”

“Hmm. We’ll work on that.”

James stared at her. “How many daggers do you have?”

“Enough. And I have the sense not to use them here.” Reyna shrugged, accepting the pints of ale. Hansen had been kind enough to fill Kianthe’s mug with hot nonalcoholic cider, since mages didn’t drink. Reyna took a tasting sip, then another—nice and sweet, but with a sour tinge that Kianthe wouldn’t like—and handed the pint to her partner.

“Good?” Kianthe assessed her expression, took a swig of cider, and grimaced. “Ah. Remind me to visit Wellia’s apple orchard this summer. Their soil’s oversaturated.” A pause. “Let me guess. Twelve daggers today?”

“Don’t be absurd, dear. Twelve is a ludicrous number.” Reyna pecked Kianthe’s lips and scanned the room. The inn was sectioned into two areas: the welcome desk, empty now, and the tavern, which was packed with tables framing an impromptu dance floor. The sheriff’s son was playing the flute, and two pirates had joined with fiddles. Reyna found herself tapping her foot to the beat.

“A seat, maybe?” James held his drink awkwardly, glaring like he was annoyed to lose a fighting hand and was determined to make up for the loss through sheer intimidation. It was a fair tactic for a more observant audience, but his posturing was lost on drunk townsfolk and drunker pirates. Reyna offered him a cursory glance and chuckled.

“If we can find one, sure.” She drew a deep swig of her ale. It was bitter, brimming with hops, but she savored it. Wine would be next. “Try some, Tessa. You’ll like it.”

Tessa hesitated. Considering rum was the drink of choice in Leonol, Reyna wasn’t surprised. After a moment, she politely set the drink back on the counter. “Actually, I need to use the facilities. Arcandor, perhaps you can show me where they are?”

Subtle.

Still, Reyna played the role expected of her. “I’d love some fresh air. The bonfire is keeping the town square nice and warm, and it’s less crowded. We’ll meet you two there?” She fought to keep a straight face as Kianthe offered an exaggerated wink behind Tessa’s shoulder.

Fond exasperation filled Reyna’s chest. It was amazing Kianthe had maintained this ruse since the gardens. Her partner was anything but subtle.

James automatically moved after Tessa, but stopped himself. Interesting. They must have discussed this ruse earlier. He seemed to realize his mistake and fidgeted with his sword instead. “I—Will she be safe with the Arcandor?”

“She’ll be perfectly fine.” Reyna quirked an eyebrow, drawing another sip of ale. “She seems important to you. Are you two a couple?”

They had a stressful week ahead, after all; Reyna could do with a distraction, and matchmaking was one of her favorite pastimes.

“No.” James snorted, then laughed harder. “Hells, no. She’s not partial to romance or sex, for one—but even if she were, that’d be like dating my sister.”

Ah. So, no matchmaking on that front. Reyna led him out the door, into the public square, speaking over her shoulder as he followed. “If it’s not a relationship, then you’re helping her out of duty? That’s a surprising amount of dedication outside of the Queensguard.”

A lifelong career, with little time for much else.

James shrugged. “She’s the most important thing in my life. My mother and aunt dedicated their lives to her—ah, her family. It was only natural I follow that.”

“You don’t have any dreams of your own to pursue?”

James glanced at the stars, wistful for a moment. Then it was gone, and he replaced it with a neutral tone. “My dreams are hardly important.”

It was too familiar.

Reyna stopped short in the middle of the town square, facing him head-on. His beer sloshed, and he struggled to regain his balance as she crossed her arms. “Your dreams are always important, James. No one should give their life for another in its entirety.”

James opened his mouth like he wanted to reply, but thought better and closed it instead. When it was clear she was waiting for his response, he intoned, “Yes, ma’am.”

He would have made an excellent Queensguard, with the proper training.

Reyna was ready to push the conversation, but Matild materialized at her shoulder. She took one look at the ale in Reyna’s mug and made a face. “Oh Gods, why are you drinking that? You know Hansen pulled out the backstock for Dreggs’s crew? Pirates will drink anything, he figured. It’s literally the cheapest barrel they had.”

“What would you recommend instead?” Reyna quirked an eyebrow. A challenge.

Matild huffed, shouted, “Tarly, grab the wine,” across the town square, and squinted against the bonfire’s blaze to watch her husband about-face back into her clinic. With a satisfied smile, she clapped Reyna on the shoulder. “There. You’re drinking in style tonight, considering your upcoming nuptials and all. Now, who’s tall, dark, and handsome?”

James abruptly choked on his ale.

Matild patted his back with enough force to make him stumble. “There, there. If you choke, I’m the one who’ll have to save you, and I’m off duty right now. Deep breaths.”

“This is James. He arrived with his companion, Tessalyn, on Dreggs’s ship.” The weight of those words instantly registered with Matild. Reyna held her eyes, offering a silent confirmation: This is the companion of the lost heir herself.

The midwife maintained an easygoing smile, although her eyes flashed. “Ah, right. I heard we were entertaining a few Leonolans this week. A pleasure to meet you, James.”

Reyna turned to James. “Matild runs our local clinic. And her husband, Tarly, is our blacksmith. Their shops are right over there.” She nodded across the square.

“A pleasure.” James cleared his throat, thumping his chest after swallowing wrong. He hadn’t noticed their silent conversation.

“What are you doing in Tawney?” Matild asked, deceptively pleasant. “Looking for a spouse? I’m sure we can rustle up someone for you. You’re, what? Early twenties?”

This was the perfect opening. James was getting frazzled—rookie mistake—and he wouldn’t think too hard about Reyna’s next move. Reyna casually gestured at the clinic. “I’ll go help Tarly find the wine. Finish my ale, Matild.” She handed off the mug. “Be right back.”

James opened his mouth to protest, but Reyna was halfway across the town square before he could speak. She made a big show of entering the clinic, closing the door behind her. Inside, Tarly had just resurfaced with a glass jug of red wine, which he hoisted over his shoulder.

“Uh, did Matild send you to check my work?” The town blacksmith was a burly man with light, freckled skin, hair like fire, and a thick beard. He was also one of the more amiable souls in Tawney. An easygoing smile crossed his features, and he offered her a short glass. “Or are you here for a sample?”

“Later.” Reyna stepped lightly past him, never breaking stride. “Do me a favor and hang tight for a bit? Matild is keeping James busy, but I need to go spy on Kianthe and Tessa.”

Tarly had heard about Tessa, but didn’t seem to care much about the implications of it. He shrugged and dropped into a chair by the front door. The drapes had been drawn, and the clinic was quiet; compared to the noise of his smithy, it was probably a welcome reprieve. “Twist my arm.” And he poured himself a glass of wine.

Reyna grinned at him and swept out the clinic’s back door. She emerged into an alleyway, close enough to the festivities that the music still thrummed in her veins and the bonfire’s woodsy scent was almost overpowering. With confident strides, she maneuvered between the buildings, sticking to the shadows until she reached an empty clearing near the stables.

Sure enough, Kianthe and Tessa were there, whispering quietly under the shade of an oak tree. Yesterday, the tree’s leaves had been bright green and tiny, newly grown, but under Kianthe’s presence they’d spread into a dense canopy that cast the pair in shadow.

Reyna crept closer, sliding into the rows of stalls. Near enough to eavesdrop, far enough to remain unseen. She crouched by a set of well-used bridles, which hung off huge nails on the wall.

In a nearby stall, her horse, Lilac, puffed and watched her warily. Whenever Reyna removed Lilac from the stables, it was for an adventure the horse wanted no part of. Most of Lilac’s life now was spent grazing outside of town or relaxing in her lovely stall, and the retired warhorse was just fine with that.

“Nothing today, Li,” Reyna breathed to the animal.

Lilac flicked her tail and went back to munching on hay.

“—a reason you brought me to a remote corner of Tawney, or am I just that attractive?” Kianthe drawled. Her back was to the stables, but Reyna could perfectly imagine Kianthe’s sly smirk. “I should warn you; Reyna gets intimidating when she thinks someone’s poaching me. Lots of lurking in dark corridors with ridiculously sharp knives.”

Oh, Gods. Reyna rolled her eyes. Considering her days now were spent pouring tea in an apron embroidered with I COOK, YOU CLEAN, that was an exaggeration.

Tessa winced. She cast a wary glance around the empty clearing, squinting into the oak tree like someone might be perched in its branches. Reyna held her breath, but clearly James did the perimeter sweeps, because the woman ran a hand through her hair and laughed nervously.

“It’s not that. This is—ah, this is difficult to explain.”

“Lifelong secrets usually are,” Kianthe replied. Then she seemed to realize her words, because she held up her hands. “Shit. I mean, I have no idea what this is about. I’m just assuming, based on the subterfuge. P-Please, go on.”

Reyna buried her face in her hands.

Tessa, meanwhile, crossed her arms, suspicion flashing over her features. But when Kianthe didn’t intervene again, she succumbed to the fidgety nature of the day and paced away from the oak tree. “I was told you help folks in need. Like … like refugees. Is that true?”

“Technically, the Arcandor’s job is to maintain balance with the elements and magical creatures of the Realm.”

Reyna swallowed an exasperated groan.

Tessalyn physically drooped.

“Oh. I see.”

Bless her, Kianthe realized her mistake. “Ah, hang on. I’m not a very good Arcandor. I step so far outside the lines that I’m halfway across the Realm before the stuffy mages in the Magicary realize I’ve left.”

They stared at each other.

“All that to say, I’m here to help.” Kianthe paused, and genuine sincerity slid into her tone. “You’re safe here, Tessa.”

It was all the woman needed. She scrubbed her face, dropped her voice even further, and whispered, “I’m … Stars above, I hope I’m not killed for this. I’m Queen Eren’s second-born daughter.”

“Whaaaaat?” Kianthe exclaimed, lathering so much shock into the words that it sounded satirical. “But Queen Eren didn’t have any other children.”

Tessa flinched. “Please, keep your voice down. I know it’s shocking, but—”

“So shocking.”

This was agony.

Tessa stopped, squinting at the mage. A long beat passed. Kianthe shifted her weight, and the unclaimed heir to the Queendom itself realized the Arcandor, the Mage of Ages, was hiding a secret of her own.

“You know already, don’t you?”

Kianthe shrugged. “A bit, yeah. Reyna and Diarn Feo have been searching for you for a while. Once we paired with Locke, Tilaine’s spymaster, it was easy to flush you out.”

They’d discussed tactics for this. Reyna had expected that Tessa would want the Arcandor’s help. She’d expected that Kianthe would be guiding this conversation in one scenario. What she didn’t expect was her partner to be so fucking bad at it.

No decorum. Unsurprising, from a woman who had once summoned a tornado to scare a bee away from her food.

“Easy to flush—” Tessa’s porcelain cheeks tinged pink. Her eyes flicked upward, her words muttered in dizzying thought: “The pamphlets that appeared all over the school announcing your engagement. I thought that was odd. And Professor Gregar shifting that class to Queendom politics, with a special focus on Lord Wylan. Stars, everything was planted, wasn’t it?”

Stars.

The lost heir prayed to the Stars.

Unsurprising, considering her Leonolan upbringing, but it still felt like a physical wound to Reyna.

Kianthe had the decency to sound abashed. “My partner and the Queendom spymaster are somewhat scary. I told them we should just pay you a visit, but they insisted it had to be your idea, or you’d vanish.”

“Fuck,” Tessa spat.

Kianthe leaned against the tree. She seemed to realize it was darker than she preferred, because she summoned a few balls of flame to shoo into the leaves. The ever-flame drifted like lanternflies, casting them in a warm glow.

It perfectly illuminated the moment Tessa’s temper turned. Her face twisted in familiar anger. For a breath, she looked exactly like Tilaine and Eren.

Reyna stiffened, tense from decades of violence following that expression.

“Then they’re also behind Aunt Victoria’s death.” Anguish infused Tessalyn’s tone, and she took a threatening step forward. “You people killed her.”

Tessalyn was Queendom royalty, and she now had a vendetta against Kianthe—which meant Kianthe’s life was in danger. Instinct took over, and Reyna shoved off the wall, reaching for a sword that didn’t exist.

Her hand grasped air—and that made her stop short.

Shit. Tessa may be royalty, but she hardly had a legion behind her. Kianthe could protect herself. Drawing silent breaths to soothe her racing heart, Reyna ducked back into the shadows.

Except her movement scuffed the dirt, which apparently alerted Kianthe. The mage breathed a sigh and glanced toward the stables. “Ah, Reyna, I have a feeling there’s been a miscommunication. We didn’t kill anyone, did we?”

Her tone wasn’t humorous anymore. Kianthe took violent attacks seriously, and it was a big reason why Reyna swore off killing when possible.

With a frustrated sigh, Reyna stepped out of the stables, revealing herself. Talk about a rookie mistake.

“Reyna?” Tessa tensed, backing up. She was outnumbered. The heir glanced over her shoulder, although James would still be busy with Matild. “Shit. Shit. I should have known you’d be loyal to—”

“Okay, this is going to look bad, so bear with me.” Without waiting for approval, Kianthe magically pulled up two clay walls, blocking both alleys to trap Tessa inside the clearing.

The color drained from Tessa’s face.

Kianthe winced. “Bear with me, remember! Look, you’re from Leonol—you must be smart. Which means you know we’ve had dozens of chances to kill you before now. I wasn’t lying, Tessa; you’re safe with us.”

Tessa drew a deep breath, facing them head-on. With her shoulders back and her chin high, she looked like a queen. Reverence filled Reyna’s chest.

Tessa’s voice was strong, commanding. “You admitted to working with the queen’s spymaster. Which means you know of Victoria. Three decades of Queensguard service, first to Queen Eren, then to myself. She liked to paint figurines, even when the humidity warped the paint. She became an associate professor at the university, teaching swordsmanship to Leonolan children. She loved puns, much like you, Arcandor.”

“She sounds fun,” Kianthe said softly.

Tears shone in Tessa’s eyes. Her fists clenched, and when she blinked, a tear slid down her cheek. “She was fun. After James’s mother died in a flood, she was all we had. And by partnering with Queen Tilaine, Locke, and their spies, you two killed her.”

“Hey—” Kianthe protested.

“Tessalyn. We didn’t kill anyone.” Reyna’s sharp tone stilled Tessa’s anger. “There’s a flaw in your progression of events. Queen Tilaine believes Locke is loyal—but much like myself, Locke has already defected.”

“Defected?” Tessa breathed, like she could hardly dare to believe it.

Reyna took a cautious step forward, hands raised in a peacekeeping gesture. “When was Victoria killed?”

Bitterness overtook Tessalyn’s voice. “Last fall. Locke’s spies never found us, but we pieced together what happened. Victoria knew they were coming and lured them away from our home.”

Hmm. Reyna and Kianthe exchanged a curious glance and an unspoken conversation. They’d be exploring that later.

For now, Reyna phrased her reply carefully. “Is it possible someone else killed Victoria? Someone outside Her Excellency’s spy network?”

It’d be easy for Tessalyn to lie, to reassert her position. But she was a student, and Leonolans prided themselves on examining every angle. The heir set her jaw, but grudgingly muttered, “It’s possible. The site of attack was on the western edge of Leonol, in the jungle. She died from a stab wound, but … well, there are Queendom refugees in the jungle. Some are violent.”

Well, that was something.

“We’ll send someone to investigate. Okay? We’ll find out what happened,” Reyna said firmly. She already knew the perfect ex-constable to take point on that.

Tessalyn’s fists loosened. “Really?” She was still distrusting, but that helped.

“I swear.” Reyna drew a slow breath and tackled the real problem. “Tessa, we didn’t lure you to Tawney without reason. We know the risk you took leaving Leonol, skirting the Capital in Dreggs’s ship. But it’s time we all stop hiding from Queen Tilaine.”

“I’m not revealing myself to her,” Tessa snapped. “I’ve heard what she’s like. She’ll kill me.”

“That’s not what we’re asking.” Kianthe stepped alongside Reyna, meeting Tessa’s gaze. For that moment, she really did look like the Arcandor, the Mage of Ages. Magic seemed to shimmer around her.

Reyna drew a slow breath, her heart pounding, her palms sweaty.

It all came down to this.

“Tessalyn, we’re overthrowing Queen Tilaine, and we want you to claim your rightful spot on her throne.”

8

Kianthe

“Well, that could have gone worse,” Kianthe said as Reyna closed New Leaf’s barn doors and locked them for the night.

“She accused us of murder. Then we trapped her in a clearing with two very dangerous, potentially hostile women, and when we asked her to overthrow the queen, she laughed in our faces.” Reyna massaged her brow, her shoulders slumped in exhaustion. “What did your bad outcome look like?”

Kianthe drew the curtains, shooing a ball of ever-flame that had drifted down from the rafters. “Well, she could have tried to stab me. She looked ready to do it.” A resolute nod. “Any day I’m not stabbed is a good one, in my book.”

Reyna stared at her. Opened her mouth to respond, seemingly changed her mind, and asked, “What’s happening with your book, anyway? I figured we’d have received a printed copy by now.”

Kianthe waved a dismissive hand. “Feo assured me it’s been distributed to the best presses in Wellia—which probably means they locked it in a drawer and alchemied away the key. I’ll explore it after the wedding.”

“Ah,” Reyna said, not inviting more conversation. Even from across the empty shop, Kianthe noted the dark bags under her partner’s eyes. Stress had settled over Reyna’s shoulders a couple months ago, and while the tension loosened on some days, it never quite left. Today had been long, but the town was quiet now and their shop felt like an oasis.

“Do you want a cup of tea?” Kianthe asked.

Reyna, their designated tea maker, breathed a sigh. “I want a bed. But I’ll make you a cup before—”

“Let me rephrase. Would you like me to make you a cup of tea?”

Kianthe strolled up to Reyna, wrapping her arms around her love’s waist. Reyna’s body was shockingly sexy—years of swordsmanship made her perfectly toned. Kianthe traced the corded muscle now, savoring the way it threaded from Reyna’s wrists, up her arm, to the smooth curve of her shoulders.

Reyna released a sigh, falling against Kianthe as the mage feathered along the sensitive skin beneath her ear and massaged the back of her neck.

“I would love that, Key. Lavender rose, please.”

“Your wish, my command.” Kianthe pressed a kiss to her forehead, then pulled away. Reyna trudged to the armchairs by the hearth as Kianthe slid behind the counter and ignited a flame below the copper kettle.

Reyna kicked off her boots and curled onto the plush chair. “Did we make sure the dragon babies got home okay? The last thing we need is to lose them again.”

“Love, the dragons can handle themselves. And Visk keeps a close eye on Ponder. Don’t fret about the mythical creatures.”

Kianthe scooped dried lavender and rose petals into a custom metal strainer, humming under her breath. Unlike Reyna, who had a beautiful voice, Kianthe could only sing off-key … but it still brought her pleasure to fill the barn with a melody. Even the leaves of ivy winding through the rafters swayed with the song, their magical motion showcased by the balls of ever-flame.

Reyna settled into the armchair, letting her eyes drift shut. “If you say so.”

“I say so,” Kianthe replied, shooting the hearth a stern look. A fire hastily erupted on the crisped wood—basking, but not burning, because it’d be embarrassing if an elemental mage needed to stock firewood.

Conversation lapsed into comfortable silence, and a contented warmth spread through Kianthe’s soul as she poured hot water over the tea leaves and set a mental timer. While she waited, her eyes drifted across the barn. Gossley had tidied the shop at some point during the party; the boy was always preparing for the next day’s work.

The plants that filled every corner boasted luscious green leaves, and a few had started sprouting flowers for spring. Ferns and fig plants near the front doors, philodendron atop the bookshelves and tables, a particularly grumpy calathea on the counter beside Reyna’s copper kettle, and countless more that Kianthe had accumulated over the year of living here. Reyna couldn’t feel it, but the shop itself was alive with magic. Even with Tawney’s terrible ley line, the Stone of Seeing infused New Leaf.

This was home. No matter how Tessa laughed at them, no matter how the events of this week progressed—Tawney was theirs. Kianthe would protect it, because Reyna needed a safe space to unwind.

Already, she looked more relaxed. Her eyes were still closed, although it’d be silly to assume she was asleep; Reyna didn’t let her guard down unless she was horizontal, for one reason or another. Just to be obstinate, Kianthe stomped as she approached.

“You sound like a horse,” Reyna drawled, forcing herself awake. She shifted to a more upright position, accepting the hot mug with a pleased expression.

“Well, it was embarrassing enough that night Locke snuck up on you. Wouldn’t want a repeat.” Kianthe dropped into the armchair beside her, close enough that she could trail her fingers over Reyna’s arm—and might, once Reyna wasn’t holding hot liquid.

Her partner wrinkled her nose, shifting with the mug to face Kianthe. Her legs were still curled underneath her, but she seemed more alert. “Locke snuck up on you, dear. I already had my dagger out.”

“Semantics.”

Reyna chuckled, but it died out as she rested the warm mug against her lips. More silence, this time contemplative. “I’m not sure what to do about Tessalyn. How can we get the Gods’ blessing if the heir has no interest in assuming the throne?” A rare chord of defeat rang in her tone.

Kianthe hesitated. “We could fabricate one.”

“Key.” Reyna’s voice was strained. “That’s not something we should discuss.”

Maybe she just didn’t understand the benefit to this. Or how easy it’d be. Kianthe kept talking. “Why not? Lots of Gods, right? Is there a God of Nature? Because then I could drum up a nice blessing pretty easily.”

Reyna almost spilled her tea. She steadied the mug, but her face had drained of color. “Don’t joke about that, Kianthe. The Arcandor is not on the same level as the Gods’ pantheon. It’s insensitive to imply you might be.”

It was a rare moment of chastising. Kianthe sank back into her chair, guilt churning in her gut. “Sorry. You’re right.” After all, Reyna had always accepted the religious views of others, even if she remained skeptical. It was unfair not to offer the same courtesy.

They settled into silence, but not for long. After all, Kianthe loved her partner because they could talk about anything and everything. And Reyna’s visceral reaction had sparked a level of curiosity.

“Are your Gods wrathful?” Kianthe tried to keep her tone inquisitive. And realistically, she was; the Stars and the Stone of Seeing made sense to her. The Gods didn’t—but they were an important part of Reyna’s beliefs.

Maybe they’d avoided this conversation long enough.

Reyna drew a slow breath. “Not … wrathful, no. But they are always watching. Always listening.”

“Creepy.”

“Not like that. They don’t care about mortal affairs.”

Kianthe quirked an eyebrow. She wanted to ask: Then why are you so scared? Instead, she carefully said, “But they wouldn’t like us fabricating a blessing?”

That seemed to give Reyna pause. “I—I’m not willing to risk it. They can influence things around us. Heretics in the Queendom mean fewer fish caught in our nets, or poor crops from the southern regions. If we’re disloyal, they’ll respond somewhere. Innocent people will suffer.”

So they were wrathful. Kianthe frowned. “Sounds less like a god, more like Tilaine.”

It was meant to be a casual observation. Instead, it made Reyna’s brow furrow.

Kianthe tilted her head. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Rain, come on. No secrets.”

Reyna visibly hesitated. She drew a long sip of her tea, staring at the fire flickering in the hearth. “What if Diarn Feo is right? What if the Gods … aren’t real?” She whispered the last two words, then braced like she expected divine retribution right here in their bookshop.

It actually made Kianthe sad. The Stars had always been such a comforting presence overhead—never judging, merely implying there was so much more to the world. And when she discovered her magic, the Stone of Seeing amicably took over, offering a solid connection to the earth below her feet.

Kianthe always felt loved by her deities. It wasn’t surprising Reyna had a different experience, considering the Queendom’s culture … but still.

“Um…” Kianthe rubbed her neck. “I mean, if they aren’t real, you can always find hope in the Stars, I guess? Or like Locke said, maybe you don’t need religion at all.”

That didn’t seem to help. Reyna traced the rim of her mug, biting her lower lip.

Why did she think she could debate theology? Kianthe fumbled for a better response. “Listen. Feo was kicked out of the Magicary for finding inconsistencies in the Stone of Seeing’s scripture. They may even be right—but mages don’t need sacred texts to know the Stone has power. The scripture is more of a formality anyway, to offer authenticity to the rest of the Realm.” Kianthe paused, quieter. “If you think they’re real … if the Gods bring you comfort … lean into it. Don’t let anyone shake that faith.”

Reyna nodded slowly. “You’re right.” But for once, she didn’t sound convinced. “Perhaps I’ll do some reading on the history of our religion. Visit the church. Diarn Feo seemed very convinced—there must be a reason why.”

“Feo rarely passes judgment without solid reasoning,” Kianthe grudgingly agreed.

Reyna drew another sip of her tea. After a moment, she changed topics: “So, royal blessings aside, we have one week to convince Tessalyn that she does, in fact, want to rule an entire nation.” Her tone was bitingly dry. “Thoughts?”

“Give her unparalleled magical power so she can prank government officials?” Kianthe cleaned under her fingernails, blasé. “That worked for me.”

Reyna chuckled. “Matild said that James told her Tessalyn is interested in beekeeping. There should be some poignant metaphors about a hive missing its queen.”

“Oh, honey, you have no idea.”

Reyna raised an eyebrow.

“Get it? Honey? Bee pun?” Kianthe grinned. “Come on. You left that one wide open for me.”

“That’s because when I tried closing the door, you came in through the window,” Reyna drawled, finishing her tea. She set the mug down on the table nearby, but didn’t seem desperate to rush off to bed. Instead, she repositioned her legs and wedged her shoulders into the firm back of the chair, settling in with a sigh.

Warmth filled Kianthe’s soul. “I love you.”

Reyna laughed. “Just today, or…?”

“Right now, in this moment.” Kianthe pushed off her chair, perching on Reyna’s armrest. It gave her a perfect angle to drape her legs over Reyna’s lap, and she braced her arm over the chair’s backrest. Reyna drummed her fingers on Kianthe’s thigh, a wry smile tilting her lips.

“Well, I appreciate the reminder.” She rested her head against Kianthe’s arm. “Should we get a couch instead? Something big enough for us both to lie on?”

Kianthe shrugged. “I figured there was a reason you stocked the shop with chairs.”

“It seemed smarter for the general public. Now I’m reconsidering.” Reyna traced light circles over Kianthe’s trousers. It was a soothing motion that could easily lull Kianthe to sleep, too. “I’ll need you to summon Visk tomorrow. I’m going to send Bobbie and Serina to investigate Victoria’s death.”

Well, that was a pivot. Kianthe pulled back, frowning. The armrest was hard, and she shifted to give her backside a reprieve. “Ah—okay? It’ll take a day or two to fly there and back, though. The wedding’s in five.”

Reyna had that sly glint in her eyes. “It’ll be enough time. Besides, Bobbie was upset about missing quality time with her beloved … and Serina is craving adventure. What better combination than a murder investigation? Plenty of bonding time during the flight to Leonol.”

“Did you have this planned the entire time?”

Reyna started massaging Kianthe’s calves, which felt incredible and almost made Kianthe miss her response.

“It’s the most logical conclusion. Locke has already left for the Capital. I’d investigate myself, but I can’t exactly vanish before our wedding. Serina and Bobbie are just guests; they can sneak away for a few days.”

“I guess Bobbie is the second-best person to investigate, behind you,” Kianthe said begrudgingly. “But I was looking forward to spending time with them this week.”

“We’ll have plenty of it later, love. This is important.”

“I know.” Kianthe shifted, feathering her hand through Reyna’s hair. Her partner’s bun had loosened over the night, and Kianthe took immense pleasure in tugging out the twine, letting the strands fall to Reyna’s shoulders. “What are we going to do if Locke is behind it?”

Reyna sighed, letting her eyes drift shut. “We’re out of options regardless. We can’t overthrow Queen Tilaine without him.”

Kianthe massaged Reyna’s scalp, smiling when Reyna’s shoulders slumped and she released a relaxed sigh. “You like that?”

“It’s lovely.” A pause. “If Her Excellency feels threatened, she’ll start a war. And considering a good portion of the Queendom’s food supply is shipped in from the Nacean River, it’s a war we’d almost certainly lose.”

Kianthe shuddered, staring into the flames of the hearth. “Stone and Stars forbid that happens. I’d have to do something drastic.”

“Mmm. That’s why I don’t think it’s a ploy on Locke’s part. He’s always been a patriot, loyal to the Queendom. But he’s served two queens now and isn’t shortsighted enough to think Tilaine is our country’s strongest option.”

It made sense when she phrased it like that. Kianthe had spent the night of Locke’s intrusion slumped against a table, bleary with lost sleep, while Locke proposed a coup. After he’d left, she and Reyna had discussed it further, but there was a reason they’d ultimately agreed to partake.

“But none of it will matter if we don’t convince Tessa.” Reyna’s voice was calculating now. “We need to solve the mystery of Victoria’s death. If Tessa doesn’t trust us, this entire thing is finished before it begins.”

Her ass hurt. Kianthe pushed off the armchair, stretching. “Great. Sweet-talk the heir, solve a murder, host a wedding. Sounds like a walk in the park.”

“Easier than overthrowing a diarn and locating missing dragon eggs.” Reyna smirked.

“The dragons.” Kianthe groaned. “Imagine the chaos they’ll create while Visk is gone. You sure Serina and Bobbie can’t just ride horses to Leonol?”

Reyna pushed to her feet as well, pecking Kianthe’s lips. “Too slow, and you know it. They have to fly. Ponder will keep the baby dragons in check.”

“Ponder is half the problem,” Kianthe muttered, retrieving Reyna’s empty mug for the wash bin. “Bedtime?”

“Bedtime. Five days left to convince our lost heir to rise to the occasion.”

“Swell.”

9

Reyna

Reyna arrived at the inn’s doorstep early the next morning. The town square was quiet and messy—the bonfire had been extinguished overnight, but thin tendrils of smoke still drifted into the slate sky. Empty bottles and cloth napkins littered the cobblestones, and a few rats were helping themselves to a half-eaten turkey leg.

“This’ll be fun to clean up,” Reyna murmured. A soft breeze creaked the inn’s wooden sign, a reminder of the unnatural silence. On a morning like this, usually a few early risers would be walking about town, chatting with other folk.

Not today, apparently.

Inside the inn, Hansen’s teenage son was bent over the counter, chewing a chocolate croissant as he absently flipped through a book. In the corner of the room, two pirates were slumped on a huge wooden table, and a third was passed out at their feet.

“Where’s your mother?” Reyna asked, quirking an eyebrow.

The teenager shrugged. He was about Gossley’s age, but lacked the muscles and confidence. What replaced it was extraordinary spite at being disturbed, evidenced by a single eyebrow raise and disdainful glance. “Contrary to popular belief, she’s not superhuman. They’re both still sleeping.”

Reyna drummed her fingers on the counter. “I see. What rooms are Bobbie and Serina in?”

The teenager heaved a long-suffering sigh and shoved away from his book. The croissant dangled from his mouth as he riffled through their current records, noting the names of each occupant.

“Second floor, third on the right. Your friends asked for their own rooms, but that pirate captain paid an absurd amount to put Serina in the same room as Bobbie.” Now a sardonic smile cracked his façade. “You should have seen them yelling. Hilarious.”

“Thank you.” Reyna shook her head.

He waved her off as she strolled up the staircase. The third door on the right was closed, but the simple locks of a village inn wouldn’t be a match for a thin dagger and a modicum of skill, let alone Reyna’s lockpick set. The tools were neatly packed away by the time she swung open the bedroom door, strolling into the dark space.

Serina was sprawled across the single bed, snoring. Bobbie, meanwhile, had claimed almost every pillow and blanket, and was curled into a tight ball on the wooden floor. The room itself was in disarray—a chair overturned, clothes thrown haphazardly, drinks discarded, boots tossed in odd areas. Either they’d had a great night, or they’d been arguing intensely.

Considering Bobbie was on the floor, Reyna had her suspicions.

The sound of the door closing was enough to startle Bobbie awake. The diarn jackknifed upright, fumbling for a weapon that she’d clearly lost the night before. “Who’ssere?”

“It’s Reyna. I hope I’m not interrupting.” Reyna strolled across the room, keeping her voice down for any neighbors. The drapes kept the room dark and quiet, so naturally she unfurled them with a decisive snap of her wrists. Light flooded into the space, gray with a bit of pinkish tinge from the morning sunrise.

Serina hissed, her hand groping for a pillow. Finding none on the bed, she cracked open an eye and cursed profusely. “Bobbie, I told you to leave me a blanket, at least.”

“You made me sleep on the floor,” Bobbie muttered, indignant. She was faring better with this early wake-up call—but that was probably due to her constable training, way back when. “You’re lucky I left you the mattress.”

Reyna crossed her arms, analyzing the space between them. “Rough night?”

“Everything is fine,” Serina said through gritted teeth.

“When everything is fine, we sleep in the same bed,” Bobbie retorted.

“File your complaint with Dreggs; I tried to book my own room.”

Bobbie stumbled to the mirror, grimacing at her disheveled appearance. She began combing her thick curls with her fingers, poufing them properly. “Trust me, I have a list of complaints to file with Dreggs.”

Serina groaned, flopping back on the bed. “Stars, it’s too early for this.”

“It always is.” Bobbie set her jaw.

Yikes. Reyna massaged her brow. Her voice was firm and a little amused. “Is this really the relationship you two want?”

That stilled them. Both women glanced her way, wearing near-identical looks of suspicion. Bobbie massaged her shoulder, rolling out the kinks, even as her expression soured. “What do you mean?” She glanced at Serina, then quickly looked away.

An exasperated huff left Reyna’s lips. “This. The fighting. The snide remarks. Did you expect to be perfect halves just because you had a history? That everything would be sunshine and roses the moment you paired up?”

Considering her attempted matchmaking, Reyna felt a little responsible for their current strife—especially when the fight sparked because of the wedding. But she’d been with Kianthe so long that she’d forgotten those early beginnings, the season when they danced around each other, too scared to overstep.

Bobbie and Serina never danced. They’d known each other since they were kids, and apparently fell back into childlike bickering when things got complicated.

“Of course not. A relationship takes work.” Serina perched on the edge of the bed, scrubbing her eyes with a palm, squinting against the sunlight.

“We know that.” Bobbie’s tone was grudging.

Reyna’s gaze cut to them both, maintaining a falsely pleasant tone. “Excellent. Now’s the time. You’re at a crossroads, presented with a choice: either you sit down and talk this out like adults … or you keep fighting and grow to resent each other more and more.”

“Shit,” Serina mumbled. “Isn’t there a halfway point for those of us waking up?”

“You didn’t consider a halfway point when you leapt onto Dreggs’s ship,” Bobbie said—then immediately averted her gaze. Her hands twitched toward a skein of yarn and a crochet hook, perched on the desk nearby. Exhaustion laced her tone. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

Without looking at them, Bobbie exited into the hall, clearly heading for the washroom. Serina scowled after her, tossing up her hands in defeat. “It’s been like this for days.” Her shoulders slumped in anguish. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

“You’re choosing to fight,” Reyna replied easily.

Serina bristled. “She’s choosing to—”

“She isn’t here.” Reyna put a hand on her hip, quirking one eyebrow. “I am, and now you’re fighting me. I’ll warn you, Serina; I won’t be an easy target.”

Silence. Serina had the decency to look abashed. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“What you mean is irrelevant. All that matters is how you’re making her feel.” Reyna stepped across the room, picking up a tiny crocheted animal. It might be a bird, but it was so misshapen that Reyna couldn’t be sure. She tossed it at Serina. “Your partner is hurting. I know you are too, but lashing out at her won’t make you feel better. It’s just going to drive you two apart.”

“Isn’t she at least a little responsible for this?” Serina mumbled. “Or is it all my fault, all the time?”

Reyna frowned. “That victim mentality will carry you right to the end of your relationship. It isn’t win or lose. It’s not you versus Bobbie. It’s the two of you pairing together, fighting against the world.”

Serina sank back on the bed, head in her hands. “How do I get us to that point?”

“‘Sorry’ is a good start.”

Behind them, the door opened, and Bobbie trudged back inside. She cast a tentative glance at Serina, drawing a breath to say something—but Serina blurted, “I’m sorry, Bobbie.”

Reyna almost laughed. That was fast.

The diarn blinked, taken aback. “Ah—”

“I want us to be partners. You and me. When we’re faced with an armada of ships, I want you on deck at my side, manning the cannons.” Serina paused when Bobbie grimaced, then hastened to correct herself: “Metaphorically speaking. There’s no ship. I’m not leaving for the Southern Seas. I love you, and I love our life at your estate, and I know you have duties there, and I think it was just exciting to feel … needed. Like, you’re doing all these incredible things, and on Dreggs’s ship, it felt like I might do incredible things too. But that’s not the point—”

“Serrie,” Bobbie interrupted, squeezing her shoulder. “I don’t want … that. I don’t want you to feel like I’m forcing you into a life of mediocrity.”

Serina melted against her. “I don’t. I don’t. I love how we’re helping our people. I’m sorry I’m not better at compromising.”

The tension shattered. Bobbie’s eyes welled. “I’m sorry. It just hurt when you were joking about going to the Southern Seas. I heard so much about Dreggs growing up that I honestly thought you might … leave…”

“Not unless you came with me.” Serina pulled Bobbie into a passionate kiss. “You’re stuck with me.”

“Hopefully in the bed with you, next time?” Bobbie laughed.

“Not my finest moment.” Serina flushed.

Bobbie tapped her nose. “We’ll work on it. Just like Reyna said.”

“That’s the spirit.” Reyna pushed off the bed, dusting off her pants. “Now, I have a very busy day of wedding planning ahead, and I came here for a reason.”

“You mean, it wasn’t to force us to fix things? Because that’s absolutely what I thought.” Bobbie’s tone was bone-dry. She carefully disengaged from Serina, although her hand still rested on the small of Serina’s back.

Reyna smirked. “Well, a couple reasons. Diarn Bobbie, prior constable of Diarn Arlon, I would like to formally request your help with a murder investigation.” She gestured at Serina. “Ideally, Serina would join. Her charisma may be needed to locate relevant information.”

“A murder?” Bobbie was instantly on alert. “Who was killed?”

“You met James on the ship, correct?” At their nods, Reyna continued. “He lost his aunt, Victoria, last fall. Her body was discovered on the western side of Leonol. A stabbing, apparently. We need to know who killed her.”

Suspicion laced Serina’s tone. “Why?”

“Someone died under questionable circumstances. What more reasoning do you need?” Reyna crossed her arms.

Serina wasn’t one to back down. She squared her shoulders. “I meant, why does it have to happen before the wedding? We traveled all the way here, and now you want us to, what? Miss the celebration to ride to the southern edge of the continent?” Serina rolled her eyes. “Tell us the truth, Reyna.”

Reyna chuckled. “If it makes you feel better, we’re giving you Visk, so you’ll be flying. It’s a day and a half trip, max. Work quickly, and you’ll still make the wedding.” Now she glanced at the closed door, lowering her voice. “As much as I love you both, we wouldn’t have summoned you across the Realm for a mere celebration. There are bigger plans afoot.”

The couple exchanged glances. Serina’s eyes were alight. “I fucking knew it.”

“Yes, you did.” Bobbie pinched the bridge of her nose. “I was hopeful for a vacation.”

“If it makes you feel better, you disrupted our vacation with all the piracy last fall.” Reyna winked and strolled past them. “Go to Wylan’s house and chat with James. He’ll give you all the information he can.” She paused at the door, meeting the ex-constable’s gaze. “This is more important than you know, Diarn Bobbie. We’re trusting you two.”

Bobbie nodded, lifting her chin. “We won’t let you down.”

“I know. Enjoy the trip; I hope it brings you two some clarity.” Reyna waved at them both. They were already chatting to each other when she closed the door, and a smile tilted her lips as she strolled down the staircase.

She left the town square—which was starting to come alive, people peeking out of their homes and staring blearily at the mess—and passed through a few streets before turning onto Lindenback—

—where she promptly ran headlong into three newcomers.

They were in the back of a wagon, pulled by one of her tea merchants. The driver, a grizzled old woman named Bethette, waved half-heartedly. “Mornin’. Folks needed a ride,” she grumbled, jerking a thumb at the trio in the back of her wagon. An older man and woman, both wearing clothes from the Sheparan south, and a young man with undeniably attractive features.

Cold dread slid down Reyna’s chest. Even before Bethette spoke, she knew what the old woman would say.

“Said they’re family, comin’ to visit their daughter.” Bethette harrumphed. “Told ’em the Arcandor didn’t have any family but you, but they’re insistent.”

“She wasn’t arguing when we paid her,” the young man said pleasantly, hopping off the wagon. He was taller than Tarly, who currently held the Tawney record, and his skin—light as hers, with a warm hue—was tanned from the sun. He dipped his head in greeting. “You must be Kianthe’s fiancée, Reyna. It’s a pleasure.”

Well. Reyna certainly expected more hostility from him. Even with every nerve on alert, her voice was calm and friendly. “And you must be Fauston. The pleasure is mine.” Which meant the pair behind him, the ones currently sliding out of the wagon and dusting off straw, were Kianthe’s parents. “Welcome to Tawney. We’re so pleased you’re here for the wedding.”

She emphasized wedding, more for Kianthe’s parents’ sake.

The pair were all smiles. Kianthe’s mother, Elysia, had skin like beach sand, bleached from the sun and somehow burnt at the same time. She wore a large straw hat to shade her face and long sleeves to combat the cold, but her hands were still tinged red. Magnus, Kianthe’s father, had skin similar to the rich brown bark of a forest tree. His angular nose reminded Reyna of Kianthe, although she seemed to share her mother’s dark eye color instead.

Without Fauston, this might be a lovely meeting. Reyna was truly excited to meet Kianthe’s parents, finally. But with his presence came the suggested hostility of a failing on Reyna’s part—like she wasn’t worthy of the Arcandor’s hand.

Underneath her amicable exterior, Reyna’s heart thrummed. After a lifetime of intensive physical and mental training, Reyna was absolutely ready for a little competition.

Let them think she was a common barn cat. She had the claws to match.

“Oh, Reyna!” Elysia gripped her hands, squeezing like they were already friends. “What a surprise. It’s so wonderful to meet you. Kianthe has told us so much.” Her eyes scanned Reyna’s face, squinting at the scars on her arms and shoulders. “Goodness, though. I expected the ladies of Queen Tilaine’s court to be … ah, less rugged.”

“I wasn’t a member of the court.” Reyna quirked an eyebrow. It was offensive, but she’d spent a lifetime ignoring offhanded comments like this from Her Excellency’s ladies-in-waiting. “I was a Queensguard.”

Elysia blinked, like this was brand new information. “A Queensguard? And here I thought that was a lifelong position. Or am I mistaken, Magnus?”

Kianthe’s father exchanged a subtle glance with Fauston. Both men looked uncomfortable now. Magnus cleared his throat. “Ah, I wouldn’t know much about Queendom court workings. But this town seems nice. Pleasant folk coming through.” He gestured at Bethette, who’d already urged her horses on to New Leaf’s front door. Gossley stepped outside, waving at her, ready to unload the shipment.

“Tawney is the best home we could ask for,” Reyna replied, pleased to take the peace offering. “I’d be happy to show you New Leaf, our bookshop, but I’ll need to check that Kianthe isn’t still sleeping. Why don’t you folks head to the local inn? We’re pressed for space right now, but we’ve renovated a few buildings on the east side of town to host the wedding guests. Hansen will place you somewhere.”

Elysia lifted the brim of her hat, expression indignant. “Nonsense. We’ll see our daughter now. She’ll be thrilled—”

Absolutely not.

“Kianthe would love to see you,” Reyna cut in smoothly. “But surely you remember she isn’t a morning person. Why don’t you give her some time to wake up? She’ll come find you once you’ve settled in, and we’d be happy to give you a tour.”

Elysia raised a singular eyebrow. It was difficult to tell if she was oblivious, or if she was truly this conniving—but either way, Reyna wasn’t having it. Kianthe deserved a warning before her family slammed into their bookshop.

Luckily, Fauston seemed far more amicable than Reyna gave him credit for. He inserted himself with ease, rocking back on his heels. “We’ve been up half the night. I’d personally love a bit of time to collect myself.”

“Agreed,” Magnus chimed in.

“Oh, fine.” Elysia harrumphed. “But do tell Kianthe that we’re so excited to see her.”

“I promise, it’ll be our first topic,” Reyna said, shoving down the dread of that conversation.

With waves and smiles, she redirected them toward the local inn, dropping every name they’d need to secure housing in the burnt half of town. It was possible they’d even snag Serina and Bobbie’s room, if they were leaving for the week anyway.

Only once they were out of sight did Reyna fully relax.

Gods, she was tired. Why did anyone host weddings, again?

Drawing a deep, bracing breath of the crisp morning air, she trudged back to New Leaf to help unload Bethette’s wagon—and warn Kianthe.

10

Kianthe

“In the biggest nope in the history of nopes,” Kianthe muttered as she lifted the knocker to Lord Wylan’s manor, “the Arcandor avoids her parents and childhood friend under the guise of ‘duty.’”

She chuckled, but no one else was around to hear her joke. The courtyard was empty except for the massive front door and two horses saddled behind her: Lilac and Bobbie’s “not stolen” steed.

Overhead, Ponder had identified an adventure and was circling like a vulture. The baby dragons were following more chaotically—locked in an epic air battle that involved wayward flames and tackling each other out of the sky. The smaller griffon wanted none of it, and she screeched irately to quell their havoc.

Pill Bug disengaged immediately, landing with a thud on the manor’s tile roof.

Gold Coin, never one to bow to Ponder, roared back.

Ponder changed flight direction so abruptly Gold Coin couldn’t stop her from landing on its back. She nipped its horn viciously, the mythical beast equivalent to wrenching one’s ear, and leapt off its back when it teetered.

Far lower, Pill Bug huffed in satisfaction, apparently smug at its sibling’s comeuppance.

The front door opened, and someone cleared his throat. Kianthe redirected her focus to see Lord Wylan himself at the threshold, impeccably dressed and far more awake than he should be at this hour.

“Where’s Ralund?”

“I gave him the morning off.” Wylan clasped his hands stiffly behind his back. “I assume you’re here for Tessa?”

Kianthe breezed past his statement. “Hey, riddle me this. How did none of us consider the idea that Tessalyn may not want the job?”

It took Wylan off guard. He rubbed the back of his neck. “It was an oversight, admittedly. It crossed my mind; I certainly went through a period of disobedience about my inheritance. But I was a child at the time. I didn’t think a well-educated adult would turn down an opportunity like this.”

“Well, I’m blaming you, Reyna, and Locke for this. Apparently now it’s my job to convince Tessalyn otherwise. So, we’re going on an adventure.” Kianthe gestured at the horses behind her. It felt like an affront to nature, but Serina and Bobbie had already left on Visk, so her options were limited. “A midday picnic in the woods. Which seems romantic, but I’ve been assured it’s ‘necessary for the growth of the nations.’”

Wylan chuckled. “What an evil, enjoying a nice picnic in the woods.”

“Mmm. Considering I’m supposed to get married and you’re supposed to supervise the lost heir, I feel like this should be your job.”

Wylan seemed amused now. “Shall I rearrange my day? Nurt told me your parents checked in at Hansen’s. I imagine they’re so very eager to see you.”

Kianthe shuddered. “Well played, my lord.”

He tipped an imaginary hat.

A devious smirk overtook Kianthe’s lips. “Besides, a romantic getaway with an attractive person? Feo would be beside themself.”

Wylan stiffened. “Feo’s concerns are hardly my own, I assure you.”

“I’m not very assured.”

“Diarn Feo and I are—”

Kianthe cut him off. “In denial. Yes, I know. Go get Tessa; the horses will only tolerate the dragons for so long.” Lilac was faring a little better, considering her experience as a warhorse, but Bobbie’s painted mare was getting wide-eyed. Kianthe whistled to avert catastrophe. “Pondie—some distance, please!”

Ponder swelled with authority and nipped Gold Coin, shooing it toward dragon country. The dragon baby hissed, but a grumble from the ever-present adult lounging nearby kept the youth in line. The horses didn’t like that much either, but since they couldn’t see any adult dragons from inside the courtyard, they were left staring anxiously at the sky. Seizing the distraction, Ponder corralled the baby dragons north, offering a short reprieve.

Wylan breathed a sigh and gestured at the entryway, a circular space illuminated by windows and a magnificent chandelier. “Wait here; I’ll retrieve her. James just finished talking with Diarn Bobbie. It might take them a bit.”

“Tell her to leave James behind. I’m under strict orders to entertain Tessa, and only Tessa.”

“He won’t like that.” Wylan crossed his arms.

“Stone damn, you are just terrible at your one job, aren’t you?” Kianthe waved a hand. “Send him to New Leaf if he throws a fit. Reyna would love to chat with him.”

Wylan shrugged and strolled deeper into the manor. Kianthe busied herself with touching everything in the immediate vicinity—the expensive oil paintings, the marble statues, the tapestries, the cool stone floor. The textures were entertaining enough, and the thrill of getting away with it had her grinning when Wylan and Tessa rounded the corner.

“Why can’t James come?” Tessa asked when they got close. She still looked uneasy, like Kianthe might light her on fire at any moment.

Considering the sword strapped to Tessa’s hip, Kianthe thought she was the one who should be worried. “Look, I’m not in the business of taking prisoners. If you’re uncomfortable, we can keep things local. I just thought it might be nice to show you something outside of Tawney. I think you’ll like it.”

Tessa considered that, then sighed. “I suppose you’ve both had plenty of chances to deliver me to Tilaine.” She strode past Kianthe and mounted one of the horses with ease. Her eyes skimmed the horizon, widening just a bit. “Are those—dragons? They’re so tiny.”

“They’re just babies. Hatched a season ago. One is sweet. The other is a menace.” Kianthe rolled her eyes, mounting Lilac. “Keep the bed warm for us, Wylie.”

The lord’s face flushed, and he spluttered, “What is that supposed to mean?”

But Kianthe was too busy cackling to respond. She urged Lilac forward, and together they galloped to a side street that led out of town. Overhead, the sun was bright, the air chilly. The road was flat enough to run the horses without concern, but once they got some distance, Kianthe slowed down.

On cue, Tessa rode up beside her, drawing even. The dragons were far north now, entertained by Ponder. High above, a hawk soared over the plains, apparently confident enough to hunt now that the dragons and griffon were gone.

“This place is beautiful in its own way.” Tessa tilted her head, admiring the deep blue of the sky as it contrasted with the sharp green forest. “I’ve never been this far north before. The cold is a surprise.”

“This is nice weather.” Kianthe shrugged. “I’m not a fan of our winters, but there is something lovely about cuddling up with Reyna on a winter day. Tawney is less about the environment and more about the people.”

Tessa considered that. “In Leonol, we didn’t have many friends. I had classmates, other students I’d study with, and professors who were nice enough. But James was always terrified that anyone we met was a spy for Queen Tilaine.”

“Sounds like a lonely life.”

“It is. Ah, was.”

More beats of silence. Kianthe glanced at Tessa. The heir had tied her hair into a high ponytail and brought a heavy cloak, but it was warm enough now that she slid out of it, draping it over her horse’s flank as they rode.

“Were you ever curious about the Queendom? Or do you count yourself a Leonolan citizen now?” Kianthe didn’t have to hide her inquisitive tone. Reyna was the interrogator; Kianthe just liked knowing more about the people around her.

To her credit, Tessa didn’t flinch at the prying questions. In fact, a fond smile graced her lips. “Oh, the second. The Queendom has been a black mark on my life—a hostile force that never wanted me anyway. Leonol is magical. The humidity is oppressive, but Leonolan culture is so freeing. I can study anything, anytime. Our leaders are the smartest among us. When we find a passion, we assume the role—and if there’s a job none of us want, we puzzle ways to make it more bearable. Then it becomes a problem to solve, which most of us love.”

As she spoke, a dread settled in Kianthe’s chest. She’d been hoping Tessa felt a little responsibility for her home country—for the throne she needed to claim.

If that wasn’t the case, this got a whole lot harder.

Kianthe fumbled for something good about the Queendom. “I mean, in the palace, you could study anything you wanted. And you’d have the resources of a whole country to explore what you like.”

“Arcandor,” Tessa said sharply. “I’m not oblivious to what you’re attempting here. I already told you—I came to Tawney as a refugee. I’m not overthrowing Queen Tilaine.” She lowered her voice at that, looking around, as if someone other than the horses were eavesdropping.

“We’d overthrow Tilaine. We just need you to replace her.”

It didn’t make it better. Tessa winced, forcing her eyes to a fixed point ahead of them. They were nearing the forest southwest of town, now. Huge pines stretched needly limbs toward the sky, and a startled deer sprinted across their path before disappearing into the brush.

“I respect what you’re trying to do. But you need to find someone else.”

Frustration bubbled in Kianthe’s chest. “There is no one else.”

Tessa set her jaw. “Then perhaps a coup isn’t the wisest idea. Or perhaps the entire country needs reform—a period of tumult to replace an ancient, flawed ruling system. It’s a pretty damn big issue if only two people are eligible to rule.”

Kianthe had considered that too: that if they were already overthrowing Tilaine, why not replace the whole government with something better? Maybe a system of checks and balances like the other countries had.

But it felt too big, too dangerous, and all she wanted was to read a book with Reyna’s legs draped over her lap.

They rarely had the luxury.

She fell into silence, long enough that Tessa hunched into herself, long enough that Kianthe wanted to die.

Finally, the heir spoke, her tone tentative. “Can we start over? I didn’t mean to make an enemy of the Mage of Ages.”

“You haven’t made an enemy.” Kianthe clawed her hair out of her eyes. Underneath her, Lilac was a steady presence—they’d grown closer after their jaunt up the Nacean River, and Kianthe was starting to see why most of the Realm didn’t mind horses. Their steady hoofbeats on a dirt road were almost therapeutic. “I’m sorry I’m being pushy. Last year, Reyna fled the queen’s service … which is treason. To stay the queen’s hand, we offered access to … well, me, as collateral. But my magic is a dangerous thing for Tilaine to have in her back pocket.”

“I can only imagine,” Tessa muttered.

“You can only i-mage-ine?”

Tessa snorted. “Wow.”

The tension between them lightened.

“I’m trying my damnedest to avoid being placed in a bad situation—something where I have to choose between Reyna’s safety, and the Realm’s.” Kianthe shuddered, absently petting Lilac’s long mane. The feeling of her coarse hair was grounding.

They’d entered the forest now. Birds chirped, leaves rustled in the wind, and magic swelled. It calmed Kianthe, and she redirected their horses down a less-used path. “This way. You’re going to love this.”

Tessa frowned, contemplative, as their horses trotted into a huge clearing just inside the trees. A low-pitched buzzing filled the space, emanating from three huge boxes with little roofs on them.

“Beehives,” Tessa breathed, sliding off her horse.

“I heard you liked them.”

It must be true. Tessa had entered another world, leaving her sword behind as she stepped to one of the hives. “The hive design is different from Leonol’s. This stackable setup is brilliant if the population grows too large. In Leonol, we attempt to divide the population into a new hive and introduce a new queen, but that’s risky.”

Kianthe dismounted Lilac, tying both horses to a nearby tree. A particularly large and correspondingly loud bee buzzed right past her ear. She went very, very still, swallowing past a dry mouth. No tornados. Reyna made her swear.

Trying to stay focused, Kianthe asked, “Risky to introduce a new queen?”

Tessa cast a surreptitious glance at her. “Very creative, using bees as an allegory.”

“Hey. This is your passion, not mine.” Kianthe swallowed a squeak as another bee landed on her arm.

Tessa noted her distress. “You’re an elemental mage. The elemental mage, in fact. Are you scared of bees?”

Kianthe snorted, instantly defensive. “Excuse you. That would be ridiculous.” A bee swept past her face, and her full-body flinch made Tessa burst out laughing. Kianthe danced backward, giving the hives more space. “Okay, look! I command elements, not insects. There’s a big difference.”

“A bee-g difference?” Tessa teased.

Kianthe gasped. “I’m so proud. Now let’s keep the stinging remarks to a minimum, honey.”

Tessa snorted, circling one of the hives with lithe steps. “Look, I was scared at first, too. But these bees are calm as long as you … bee-hive. It doesn’t bee-nefit the hive to hurt you.”

Kianthe wiped a faux tear from her eyes, clapping gently. “You might actually bee able to compete with me.”

“Might?” Tessalyn smirked. “Anyway, we’re safe. It’s all hands on deck with the thawing snow—they need to make honey to feed the growing population, so the queen isn’t laying many eggs right now. In a few weeks, there will be a lot more of them here.” Tessa paused, her fingers trailing along the detachable roof of the hive. “Can I peek inside?”

“How should I know?”

“Well, if Tawney’s beekeeper has been here recently, we don’t want to disturb them too soon.” Tessa frowned.

Kianthe racked her brain. “Ah, Patol didn’t say anything about that. He did get excited when he heard you were interested.” She hesitated. “I think it’d be fine. If he didn’t want you taking a peek, I feel like he would have said something at the market.”

Tessa bit her lip, then ventured to lift the wooden roof off the top of the box. Curiosity won out, and Kianthe ventured closer, subtly manipulating the air so the bees couldn’t get close to her. Thankfully, they seemed to realize her control of the elements, because instantly the insects began offering a wide berth.

Huh. Maybe she had overreacted before.

She stilled the magic when she approached the hive, intent on avoiding disruption. “Holy hells. I had no idea they made that much honeycomb.” Rows and rows of honeycomb-filled frames occupied the boxes. Some were clearly newer, stacked with soft yellow wax that transitioned into older, darker comb farther into the box.

“Amazing.” Tessa gently lifted one frame out, inspecting the bees that continued to crawl industriously across the surface. “Did you know that anyone can become a queen, Arcandor?”

“Kianthe, please, I’m begging you.”

Tessa chuckled. “Okay. Kianthe. The males leave the nest with the hope of mating with a queen. The females remain to work and tend the hive. But none of that matters to who rules the hive.” She lifted the comb, turning it for Kianthe to see. “Look in these cells. Tiny larvae—see it? The new eggs.”

This was actually pretty interesting. Kianthe craned closer, the buzz of the bees fading as she squinted at the comb. “Huh. I thought the queen was special.”

“She probably wants you to think that,” Tessa drawled. “But no. The workers decide their new queen. They feed some of the larvae royal jelly, in the hopes that one will assume the role. The others only get it for a short while, to develop properly, but the queen eats royal jelly all her life.”

Tessa replaced the frame, squinting into the hive before tugging out another. The bees swarmed over it like ants on a piece of bread, a chaotic dance that suddenly didn’t seem so random. Kianthe was engrossed.

“One of the university’s hives was queenless, right before I left Leonol.” Tessalyn examined the bees. “Talk about intense. Professor Leen decided it was best to introduce a new queen to try and save the colony. Except the new queen didn’t have the proper pheromones, and the hive killed her.”

“We’re not killing Tilaine,” Kianthe said firmly. “If that’s your concern.”

Tessa balked. “N-No, I didn’t—that’s just what the bees did.”

“Oh.” Kianthe felt a little stupid now. She laughed slightly. “What happened next?”

“Um—Professor Leen found another queen to introduce. But her egg-laying pattern was … off. The worker bees didn’t think she was strong enough, so they started feeding her daughters the royal jelly.”

“A coup.” Kianthe whistled. “That’s some un-bee-lievable drama.”

Tessa swallowed a snort, and it shook the frame in her hands. “I left without knowing how it turned out. If the coup was successful, one of her daughters would murder the queen and take over. If it was unsuccessful, either the queen fixed her habits—or the whole hive would die.”

Kianthe flinched. “Oh shit.”

“Yeah.” Tessa swallowed, focusing on the hives again. Silence stretched, and she finally whispered, “I’m … not the right person for this, Kianthe. I’m not a citizen of the Queendom. My bloodline shouldn’t make a difference.”

“Your bloodline makes every difference, according to Reyna. The Gods only bless your family—that gives you the right to rule.” It sounded ridiculous leaving Kianthe’s lips. She rubbed the back of her neck. “At least, that’s what I’ve gathered from it.”

“A good ruler also reproduces.” Now Tessa turned the honeycomb in her hands, pointing at a bee that was a lighter brown, and a bit bigger than the others. “The queen. Healthy and thriving, swarmed by her attendants.”

She did indeed have several bees glued to her as she stepped over her domain.

Laying eggs.

“You think you won’t be able to have children?” Kianthe ventured to ask.

Tessa wrinkled her nose. “I don’t want them. I know the procedure of sex, and it holds no interest for me. And romance … why would I prioritize that when there’s an entire world to explore?” She admired the queen for another moment, then slid the honeycomb back into the hive and replaced the roof. “In Leonol, if we don’t want to marry or reproduce, that’s a choice. I doubt it’s the same within the Queendom … especially for the heir.”

Even Tilaine would have to have kids eventually. She was postponing it, but the pressure was mounting. Kianthe rocked back on her heels, defeat sliding into her bones. This was her one chance to convince Tessalyn, and she had to try every angle. Had to, or Reyna could be at risk. They all would.

“Do you think those desires might … change … as you get older?”

It was a shitty thing to say.

But thinking of Reyna, Locke, all the visitors converging this week, all the folk in the Queendom whose lives would improve if Tessalyn just agreed, Kianthe said it anyway.

“Stars above.” Tessalyn’s tone was dark with anger.

Kianthe hastened to fix her mistake. “It was just a thought! I wasn’t interested in romance when I was younger. And I definitely never considered kids until I met Reyna.” She swallowed past a dry mouth. “If having a child is the only reason, I’m sure we can work around that.”

Tessalyn clenched her fists. “This is what I get for adding context. Let me be clear: this isn’t a debate. I won’t defend my choices to you, or anyone else. I will not be queen, now or anytime in the future. The moment my mother abandoned me in Leonol as a baby, she sealed that fate.”

And with a scowl, Tessalyn stepped back to her horse and mounted.

Conversation over.

And Kianthe couldn’t even blame her.

11

Reyna

James came on book club day.

It was a newer creation of New Leaf—an attempt to have people engaging with the store, rather than merely purchasing from it. Every half-moon, folk met to discuss a recent read. At least, it started out that way. But once Tarly slipped in with a few bottles of wine, everything dissolved. The result was a raucous group shouting about plotlines while extremely inebriated.

Reyna loved it.

But when James stepped into the shop, it was instantly apparent she should have issued a warning to him first.

He stopped short, eyes widening at the mass of tables pulled together on the shop’s eastern side. A few armchairs were occupied by other regulars, most of whom arrived this time of day to eavesdrop and laugh in private. Sigmund, alone today, raised a mug at James. “Welcome to the chaos, kid.”

“Ah—” James stumbled over the word when a rowdy shout climbed in pitch.

“—cuse you!” Matild clamored over Tarly, who endured it with a good-natured smile. “Chatrey was clearly in love with Acklen. They were bleeding out in his arms; it was the perfect moment to profess! The fact that the author missed that opportunity, and then swindled Chatrey to that other ass of a suitor, is fucking absurd.”

“Unrealistic characterization. It’s frankly embarrassing,” Tarly agreed solemnly.

“Thank you, Tarls.”

But Janice waved a dismissive hand, silencing the cheers and objections. “Oh, please. Acklen could have saved Chatrey from being stabbed at all, if he’d had two thoughts to rub together. Chatrey married rich; that’s not a terrible fate!”

“Chatrey copped out,” Matild hissed.

Reyna, meanwhile, swiftly stepped around their conglomerate of tables to approach James. Her apron was covered in flour—the scones were a little late today, and the crowd would be starving. She gestured for James to follow her. “This way. Quick, before they ask if you’ve read the book.”

The squabble quieted as Reyna ushered James inside the storage room. The scone dough was only half-prepared, and she laid down more flour to finish the task. “Welcome to our bookshop. It’s not normally this wild.”

“I thought you two were getting married soon. This seems … distracting.” James’s fingers ghosted over the pommel of his sword, and he began meandering around the storage room. He made it seem like it was subtle curiosity—but Reyna didn’t miss the way he squinted behind shelves like an attacker could be lurking.

She let him do his thing; whatever he needed to feel safe. “Well, Key suggested I postpone. But frankly, the distraction is nice. Gossley’s running orders, and it’s giving my mind something to focus on other than … ah, in-laws.”

“In-laws?” James startled. “The Arcandor has parents?”

“Two, in fact,” Reyna drawled, deadpan.

James grimaced, cheeks coloring. “Apologies. I—I suppose I never thought of someone so powerful coming from humble beginnings.”

What a diplomatic way to say that. Reyna cut right past it. “Not many people think of the Arcandor as anything but all-powerful. Turns out, she’s human too.” Normally, Reyna was better at controlling her temper, but today it was like putting a lid over a boiling pot filled too full. Things kept spilling out, and it was bound to get messy. “Her mother is going to cause problems. She brought a replacement spouse for Kianthe.”

That made James stumble in his search of the room. He paused by the window, swiveling on his heel. “What? Aren’t you her spouse?”

“So I thought.” Bitterness tinged Reyna’s tone. “Luckily, I’m ex-Queensguard. We don’t forfeit that easily. If she wants a fight, she’ll get it.”

James was startled into a laugh. “Very good.” A pause. “Do you miss it? The Queensguard?”

Reyna glanced sideways at him, thumbing the dough into circles on a metal rack. “Sometimes. Last year, a lot. But now it’s like … reading a book. I can look back and remember my time there, but it’s distant. Hazy. It almost doesn’t feel real anymore.” Reyna gestured at the storage room, and the shop beyond. “This feels real. This is my home, now.”

“Hmm.” James stepped back while Reyna finished shaping the scones. Thanks to the oven, the room was oppressively hot. Sweat collected on his brow, but his gaze was wistful. “My aunt always had glowing things to say about the Queensguard. She talked a lot about the sense of purpose she found there.”

“It was, indeed, mindless.”

James blinked. “What do you mean?”

Reyna slid the pan into the oven and closed the door, trapping the heat in. She flipped a nearby sand timer, one with SCONES carved into the wooden top. Her voice was quiet now, almost contemplative. “I was raised with one directive: protect the queen, at all costs. Everything in my life—everything except baking, to be frank—was done to further that goal. And then, one day, it was all gone.”

James frowned. “By your choice, though.”

“Yes. But it didn’t change the fact that I suddenly needed to find new directives. Figure out who I am, as Reyna—not as Reyna the Queensguard. I felt like a child being asked what they want; the response was a dozen answers and somehow none at all.” Reyna chuckled, wiping down the counter with a rag. “I wanted to start a new life with Kianthe. Beyond that, I had no idea. It’s been an interesting journey, discovering my passions outside of guarding a queen.”

“Does it ever feel unfulfilling? Stepping down from such an important goal to something … menial?”

He was asking for himself, she knew—but it didn’t stop her from bristling. And yet, that dark voice in the back of her mind whispered, Yes. She’d spent so long trying to avoid that voice. Now she argued with both it and James. “There’s beauty in the menial. Life is nothing but a series of quiet tasks with people we love. Isn’t it?”

James rubbed the back of his neck, then wiped the sweat on his trousers. “It’s possible. My entire life was centered around protecting Tessalyn—and now that we’re here, she apparently doesn’t need it anymore. I guess I’m feeling listless, too.”

Well, she knew all about that. “It might be time to find some new passions.”

With an inviting flick of her fingers, she led him back into New Leaf proper. The book club seemed to have agreed to disagree, and they were packing up to leave. A few broke off to peruse the shelves. Matild and Janice had apparently made up and were cheerfully discussing which book to read next.

Reyna positioned James squarely before the women. “Ladies. This is James. He wants help finding some new hobbies and making friends. Can we put him to work this week?”

“Oh, he can help me bake the wedding cake.” Janice crossed her arms with a satisfied smirk. “You good with baking, James?”

He shrugged. “I can roast things?”

“Not the same. But I’ll teach you.”

Matild, meanwhile, furrowed her brow. “Hang on. How do we know he’ll like baking? Maybe he prefers something more active. Or something intellectual.”

“Baking is intellectual,” Janice protested.

“Baking is mindless, and we both know it. It’s our relaxation. Like meditation.” Matild waved her off. “No, I think he needs something else. I think he’d love a New Leaf game night.”

This again. Reyna pinched the bridge of her nose. “Matild, for the last time, I’m not bringing Cocoa & Capitalism into my shop.”

“Come on.” Matild strolled to a cabinet in the front of New Leaf, where she’d stashed the game’s box “just in case” Reyna changed her mind. She had to wipe off a layer of dust, but she gained a few other patrons’ attention when she presented it with a flourish. “It’s fun! All the merchants say it’s sweeping Wellia. And as a successful business owner with a competitive streak, I figured you’d be the first to line up.”

Reyna followed her to the counter. It was odd, standing on the other side of it—but Matild seemed perfectly at ease in Reyna’s place. After all, most of the folk in Tawney had taken shifts managing New Leaf Tomes and Tea last winter while she and Kianthe were tracking dragon eggs. Matild, especially, ran both businesses at once: the bookstore and her clinic.

Reyna kept her expression smooth. “That couldn’t be further from the truth.”

Matild squinted at her. “Hang on. You think I’m going to kick your ass. That’s why you’d rather not start a game night.”

Accurate.

“I’d rather not start a game night because this game has been described as ‘addicting,’ ‘time-consuming,’ and ‘hopeless.’” Reyna lifted the lid of the box. Inside was a game board—a mock city—and wooden pieces to represent tiny businesses. The rule book was thicker than some of the tomes on her shelves, and she waggled it for emphasis. “This is a place for relaxation. Book club is already getting too intense.”

“We aren’t complaining,” Sigmund called helpfully.

All the while, James had been standing by Janice. Now he moseyed over to peek into the box and swallowed a gasp when he saw the script on the rule book. “By the Stars—you want to play Cocoa & Capitalism? My swordsmanship professor played it! I mean, before the board banned it, anyway.”

“The board of regents—the leaders of Leonol—banned this game.” Reyna stared, unimpressed, at Matild. “Well, then.” She moved to close the lid.

James lunged for the rule book. It was obviously an impulse—but he moved too fast and her old instincts kicked in. She had his arm in a painful hold before he could react, his cheek pressed against the counter.

“W-Wait,” he wheezed.

“Oops,” Matild replied, smirking. “We all know better than to sneak up on Reyna, kid.”

Cheeks warming, Reyna released him. As he straightened, she handed over the rule book.

“Apologies. Reflex.” She rolled her shoulders, trying to stave off the humiliation at manhandling their guest. It didn’t help that a few of her patrons were snickering.

Matild leaned slyly across the counter. “You know, for a display like that, he might get the feeling we’re inhospitable here in Tawney. Maybe we should make it up to him. Maybe with a game night, which he’s clearly excited about.”

“I’m not—it’s not a problem—” James spluttered.

Reyna scowled at Matild.

Matild raised one eyebrow.

A standoff.

“Who would even attend game night?” Reyna finally asked.

“Myself. Tarly. James. Patol.” Matild ticked her fingers.

“Nurt,” Sigmund shouted from across the room.

Reyna tossed up her hands. “Stop eavesdropping!”

“Your fiancée was the one who suggested it in the first place, might I add.” Matild was still going. “There’s something called the Manager of Revenue. Very inventive role, very vital to the game. And since she’s our resident author, I figured we might as well test her acting skills too.”

Reyna glowered. She was the actor, not Kianthe, but she wanted absolutely no part in this time-sucking nonsense. Still, if they insisted on it, she supposed she could make space. “Fine. You can host here. But only once a season.”

“Five times a season.”

“Twice, and if you complain, you’re playing in Tarly’s smithy.” Reyna narrowed her eyes.

Matild shrugged. “You win. Enjoy it, because I’ve heard no one wins once we start playing Cocoa & Capitalism.” With a cheery wave, she strutted for the door. Tarly and Janice were chatting by the entrance, and they followed the last of the book club folk into the sunshine. As the barn doors slid closed behind them, quiet overtook the shop.

James cleared his throat and delicately replaced the rule book. “Ah … I’m excited to play. A new hobby, right?”

Reyna groaned. “I suppose.”

r

Despite the afternoon chaos, James kept himself busy. Gossley showed back up after Tarly returned to the smithy, and seamlessly resumed his duties tidying after book club. Reyna put the scones out, sold a few, prepared more cups of tea, and tidied the bookshelves. Then, realizing she’d lost her charge, Reyna ventured onto the back patio.

James was doing drills. For a moment, Reyna leaned against the doorframe to watch him exercise. His movements were swift, controlled, and deadly—he danced through footwork like he’d grown up with that blade in his hand.

If his mother and aunt were from the Grand Palace, he probably had.

“Did you really want to be a Queensguard?” she asked quietly. “Based on what I’ve seen, you’d have been good at it.”

James stilled, wiping sweat from his face. The blade he carried wasn’t suited for him—too short for his height—but he’d clearly practiced with it long enough to adapt. “I don’t know. Maybe? It wasn’t the job that interested me. But my mother and aunt spent so much time reminiscing about their old cohorts back in the Queendom, and all the stories around them.” He hesitated. “It sounded fun. Like having a big family. All I’ve ever had was Tess.”

Instantly, uninvited, Reyna thought of Venne—her old partner in the Queensguard, her best friend growing up. After she left the Capital with Queen Tilaine’s blessing last summer, she hadn’t spoken to him, but there was a time when they talked every single day.

Her tone was wistful. “It was fun. But I wasn’t guarding them—we were equals. Protecting each other.”

“Yeah. It makes it harder, loving Tess like a sister.” James set his jaw, resuming his fluid forms. His blade whistled through the air as he practiced the same thrust over and over. “She’s the most important person in the world to me. I can’t—I can’t play games while she’s in danger. And she’s never not in danger, thanks to Tilaine.”

Reyna hummed agreement. “Did she tell you?”

James barely paused. “That you want her to be queen? Yeah. I heard.” He chuckled, humorless. “She won’t do it. And frankly, I can’t blame her.”

It was confirmation of a growing concern poisoning Reyna’s heart. They might still convince Tessalyn otherwise, but the more they pushed, the more manipulative it felt. It left Reyna feeling icky and off-balance.

But what was their alternative?

Reyna drew a breath, parsing her thoughts—but was interrupted by a newcomer pulling open the barn door. She glanced over her shoulder, then did a double take.

Fauston.

Shit.

“Ah, excuse me,” Reyna said, sweeping back into the shop. She crossed it in long strides, cutting Fauston off before he got farther inside. “Welcome. Kianthe isn’t here right now; Arcandorly duty, and all that. Are you in for a cup of tea?”

Are you alone? is what she wanted to ask. Reyna did not want to talk to Kianthe’s parents—not until her partner was here to run interference.

But Fauston just laughed good-naturedly. “Arcandorly duty, huh? You can relax, Reyna. I promise, I’m not here to interrupt your wedding or try to win Kianthe’s favor. Trust me, she really isn’t my type.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m curious about you. And—well, I hear this is the best spot for tea in the Realm.”

“Well, then.” Reyna smoothed her expression into one of pleasant interest. “Take a seat. Let’s chat.” Only Kianthe would hear the edge to that innocent sentence.

Of course, she’d barely led him to a table before James appeared, sword in hand. “Is everything all right?” His eyes cut to Fauston and suspicion colored his tone. “Who is this? You seem new to town.”

Gods, but he was on edge. Exactly as Reyna acted when she first arrived at Tawney—when everyone she met could have been a spy for Queen Tilaine. Now, she lowered his sword with two gentle fingers. “We don’t use weaponry in the bookshop, please. This is Fauston. He’s a friend of Kianthe’s.”

“Ah.” James sheathed his sword, offering a hand. “Hello.”

Fauston shook it, holding the gesture a breath too long, his smile suddenly charming. His eyes roamed James’s form, and he drawled, “A pleasure.”

Oh.

Oh.

Reyna looked between the men, a sly smile tilting her lips.

Well, then. Today just got a lot more interesting.

12

Kianthe

Kianthe approached New Leaf with a paltry attempt to hide her air of defeat. She paused at the barn’s closed doors, at the curtains drawn over the windows, and drew a slow breath. The ride back to Tawney was filled with polite conversation about menial things, but the tense undertone couldn’t be ignored. When Tessalyn stepped back into Lord Wylan’s manor, she barely said goodbye—and Kianthe couldn’t even blame her. There really weren’t enough apologies for how she’d been treated, even if Kianthe had tried.

And now, she was back at New Leaf Tomes and Tea, forced to admit defeat. The evening sun was setting over the horizon, casting everything in dark shadow. It mirrored her mood. But Reyna was stressed enough, so meticulously, Kianthe forced a smile onto her face, straightened her posture, and added a bounce to her step.

“Helloooo,” she sang as she tugged open one of the barn doors. The shop was empty of patrons, so Reyna must have closed up early. Her partner waved from one of the booths, talking to someone Kianthe couldn’t make out from the booth’s high backs.

Kianthe swept into a flourish.

“My darling, I’ve returned! Please, hold your applause.”

Reyna snorted. Whoever was visiting, they must be enjoyable company: the mirth on Reyna’s face dimmed only slightly as she strolled to Kianthe and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Something tells me you weren’t successful.”

All the swagger slid from Kianthe in a whoosh. She sagged over Reyna’s shoulders, like a very large, very sad cat. “I’m sorry, Rain. I tried. I overstepped. It wasn’t pretty.” She also didn’t elaborate, ever aware of the person in the booth. “Who’s visiting?”

“Fauston.” Reyna didn’t seem bothered by Kianthe’s update. She led her partner through the tables. “You didn’t tell me he’s charming.”

On hearing his name, Fauston pushed up, bracing himself on the cushion and the booth’s wooden back to see Kianthe better. Their eyes met, and a childlike thrill swept through Kianthe. A goofy grin crossed her features.

Fauston. Stone and Stars, she’d missed him.

“That’s because he isn’t charming,” Kianthe drawled. It was a welcome reprieve from her shitty day, and she seized it, desperate to cling to something familiar and nostalgic.

“Hey. I can be charming,” he said, a matching grin on his face.

“No, I’m charming. You’re like a dog wearing a bow tie. A little cute, a nice attempt, but still missing the mark.”

“Dogs with bow ties never miss the mark.”

“Eh. Depends on the—”

“Okay,” Reyna interrupted, squeezing Kianthe’s arm to silence her. “Fauston came to meet me, but he says your parents are still waiting in the temporary housing. You know. The area surrounded by all the pirates.”

Kianthe wrinkled her nose. “Oh, Mother will love that.”

“Considering one of the pirates calls themself Dreggs, yes, she’s highly concerned about the safety and sanctity of the area.” Fauston shuddered, settling into the booth again.

Reyna strolled behind the counter, humming as she heated some water. Kianthe, meanwhile, slid into the booth across from Fauston.

For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, his “charming” demeanor falling flat. It had been decades, after all—their letters had fallen off when she was a teenager, which meant they were strangers now. Still, there was familiarity in the shine of his eyes, the curve of his nose, the twist of his dark hair.

Feeling awkward herself, Kianthe offered her arm over the table.

Fauston considered it only briefly before a grin spread across his face, and he braced his forearm against hers. This, at least, was as familiar as breathing. Arms latched, slide to the palm, twist the fingers, snap.

Their secret handshake.

So, this would be fun.

“Why the hells are you here, Fauston?” Kianthe drawled, leaning back. Curiosity burned in her chest—alongside a healthy dose of caution. “Tell me you aren’t here to ruin my wedding. Tell me my mother doesn’t have that much sway with you.”

“I’m not here to ruin the wedding … much as she’s made comments about that.” Fauston rolled his eyes, retrieving one of their new drink menus from a metal holder near the wall. The menu was Reyna’s idea—something they could update as new teas arrived, just by replacing the handwritten pages. It was just a board with a metal clip at the top, but it worked well.

Kianthe glanced back at Reyna, who was clearly giving them space. While the teas steeped, she’d disappeared into the back storage room.

“Why does Mother hate Reyna so much?” Kianthe whispered, expression fierce. “Help me. I need details before I dive into battle.”

Because no way in the five hells was Kianthe tolerating that response from her mother. Reyna deserved better than a life on edge, constantly facing criticizing remarks from an in-law. Already this week, Kianthe’s parents were an obvious weight on Reyna’s shoulders.

Kianthe hated it.

Fauston ran a finger over the swirl of meticulous handwriting, as if he could feel the edges of the ink. “It’s not her specifically. It’s the fact that you’re pairing off with someone they don’t know. Reyna is a retired Queensguard—and now, she’s a simple tea maker.” Fauston pressed his lips together, like he was contemplating his next statement carefully. “They’re worried she’s taking advantage of your power in life. That she’s … using … you.”

“She’s not using me,” Kianthe snarled, bristling.

“I know, I know!” Fauston held up his hands. “We were talking. By my first impression, she’s intelligent, accommodating, and clearly successful at running a business.”

That calmed Kianthe’s initial defense. She settled back into her seat, swallowing a groan. “Then why do my parents think that? Don’t they trust me to make good decisions? It’s pretty fucking obvious when someone is using me for my magic or clout.”

Fauston shrugged, placing the wooden backing of the menu at an angle against the table, pinning the top with a finger. He flicked the menu’s side, and it spun like a top. “Well, it might be something else, too. My family sold their farm.”

“They what?”

Fauston stared at the spinning menu. “They’re getting old—and frankly, it’s a lot of labor. They decided to retire to Koll, and your mom isn’t happy about it. She convinced your dad to buy a piece of the land, and I think … well, she has this lovely vision of you moving home, marrying me, and us farming it together.”

Kianthe gaped. “I’m not a farmer.”

He let the menu drop, then tapped a large green leaf of the philodendron that lived on this table. “Sure you aren’t, Miss Elemental Mage.”

“There’s a big difference between managing the elements and farming.”

Fauston chuckled. “I know that, and you know that, but—I don’t know. With them leaving Jallin, there’s really no reason for me to stick around either. I’d personally like to explore the Realm. See what’s out there beyond my carefully curated ecosystem.”

“You mean, who’s out there?” Kianthe nudged his arm with her elbow. “Hoping for someone special?”

Now he smirked, a sly smile overtaking his features. “Well, that swordsman from earlier wasn’t bad to look at. It’s fun to try and fluster those calm, stoic men.”

“I used to fluster Reyna,” Kianthe replied wistfully. “Now she’s used to it. Takes a lot to get a rise out of her these days.”

“Pity.”

“It really is.” Kianthe sighed, scrubbing her face. “Okay, so, my mother’s enduring a crisis. Her letters, her supposed hints—they have nothing to do with Reyna, and everything to do with the fact that she’s losing her community in Jallin.”

Fauston relaxed in the booth, one arm hooked over the backing. “It’s a nice dream. We had some good times together. But I think she’s remembering them a little too fondly. Clearly, she’s forgotten when we almost set fire to your father’s shipment—or when you accidentally grew taebane and nearly poisoned us.”

Reyna had returned from the storage room and was pouring the tea into mugs. “Fauston, how do you prefer yours sweetened? Honey, sugar, or plain?”

“Honey, please,” he called.

Kianthe mirrored his positioning, scooching to the wall so Reyna had plenty of room to join them. “I guess … I didn’t realize she was that lonely. I left pretty young. I figured they’d moved on.”

Like I did, she thought. Guilt prickled at all the years that passed without any word between them. Without Reyna, she would never have reached back out.

“Serina’s parents are in Jallin,” Reyna said innocently. She set down their three mugs, pushing Fauston’s toward him. “Mint and rose. Kianthe’s favorite.” And without another word, she strolled back to the counter.

Fauston pulled his mug closer, raising one eyebrow. “Ah, she has excellent hearing.”

“Just assume she’s eavesdropping anytime she’s in the room—and that she’s still listening half the time when she’s not.” Kianthe smirked, clinking their mugs together. The tea was delicious, sweetened just enough to cut the mint without overriding the notes of rose petals. “Lovely as ever, Rain!”

Reyna stepped back to the table with a plate of cured meats and apple slices. It scented the air with savory smoke. She slid into the booth beside Kianthe, helping herself to a skewer. “My pleasure, darling.”

“Who’s Serina?” Fauston asked, crunching on an apple slice.

“She’s, ah, a friend.” Kianthe didn’t want to go into that backstory, not considering Jallin capped the base of the Nacean River. Dreggs’s pirates plagued that town, and every merchant worth his salt would have seen Dreggs’s massive flagship, the Painted Death, sailing north on the river last winter.

No, it was best to leave the details vague.

Reyna picked up the conversation easily. “Her father is a prominent merchant in Jallin, but they used to farm. If your mother is looking for new friends, that might be a great match. They’d certainly have enough in common.”

“If it gets Mother off our backs, I’m game to try.” Kianthe took a petulant sip of her drink, scowling. “It’s just frustrating that she thinks shoving me back into Jallin is the solution here. Why doesn’t she just move to Koll with your parents, Fauston?”

“It’s hard to leave everything you know. That’s … I mean, that’s why I’m still there.” Fauston hesitated, lowering his gaze.

Kianthe and Reyna exchanged glances. If there was one thing they could sympathize with, it was the fear of the unknown. It had convinced Reyna there wasn’t any point in fantasizing, because leaving the Queensguard would “never happen.” It had convinced Kianthe that asking for more would be selfish.

Kianthe was forever grateful for the singular day Reyna’s mindset shifted—and they took a leap.

Fauston cleared his throat, diverting the conversation. “So. What happened to you since leaving the Magicary, other than meeting the love of your life?” He chose a skewer of meat to munch on. “Tell me everything, oh great Arcandor, reverent Mage of Ages.”

“Stone and Stars above,” Kianthe muttered, but a grin tilted her lips.

It was nice to see an old friend again.

r

Reyna was happy to stay home and relax while Kianthe led Fauston back to their temporary house in the burnt half of town. They chatted about amicable things—the weather, Tawney, their old friends in Jallin—until Fauston apparently couldn’t take it anymore.

He stuck his hands in his pockets, turning his gaze to the sky. Overhead, the stars were bright. A couple walked past them, chatting animatedly, and he lowered his voice in turn. “Do you ever regret leaving home? Going to the Magicary, abandoning your family to pursue your dream?”

“I was nine, Faust.”

He glanced at her, wholly unamused.

Kianthe sighed, burying her hands deeper in her cloak. “At the time, I did. Leaving my parents, our house, you? It was hard. I was a solidly mediocre student, and making friends with … well, my personality isn’t easy. I’m a lot.” She winced. “Got a lot worse when the last Arcandor died and suddenly I became the living representative of the mages’ deity.”

“I can only imagine.” Fauston winced.

She shrugged, beating down old memories. “Eh. I read a lot. Great libraries in the Magicary.”

Great libraries indeed. Towering shelves and winding halls, an almost labyrinthine layout with plenty of dark, secretive nooks for a child to hide in. Unemotional stone formed two walls of her childhood fortress, and thick stacks of leather-bound tomes formed the other two—with only a flickering, poorly cast ever-flame as light, warmth, and company.

At least some of the books were about pirates, Kianthe reasoned, shaking herself from the memory.

Fauston frowned. “I wish they’d given you a choice.”

“They did,” Kianthe replied. “When they tested my magic, I was given the option to be schooled in the Magicary, or trained by a local mage.”

“I remember that first option being a bit of a threat.”

Kianthe considered it, kicking a rock down the road as they walked. “I didn’t feel that way. Something was pulling me north, and it was a huge relief to follow it.” A smile crossed her lips, unbidden. “They showed us the Stone of Seeing that first week, and it was like every stress in my brain melted away. Like I was home, for the first time in ages.”

“Must have been nice.”

But his tone was dripping sarcasm now.

Kianthe opened her mouth to reply, but a dog sprinted down the road with half a chicken leg in its mouth, followed by two squealing children and an exasperated mother.

The moment they passed, Kianthe stepped in front of Fauston, blocking his progress. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

For a breath, Fauston’s expression changed into something she didn’t recognize. Gone was the easygoing kid always up for adventure. What replaced him was an adult, bitter and frustrated with his turn of life.

“I missed you. So much it hurt, so much that I remembered our childhood for years and my heart would physically ache. When I heard you were the new Arcandor, I thought, Surely, she’ll swing by home and show us her magic. Surely, she won’t forget us.”

“I didn’t forget you!” Kianthe exclaimed, hot with indignation.

“You stopped writing. You never visit. Would you have even told us you were getting married, if Reyna hadn’t pushed you into it?”

“I—” Kianthe cut herself off. They both knew the answer.

Fauston clenched his fists, closed his eyes, turned away to take a few deep breaths. The pain in his voice was evident. “I know adults grow up and grow apart. It’s natural. But shit, Kianthe. Did you have to do it so fucking easily?”

It quelled any argument.

Guilt clawed in her chest, like a fire devouring a plant. It ate her from the inside, until her breath quickened, until her palms sweat. She physically took a step backward, trembling a bit. “I—I thought you were fine. I thought you were all f-fine without me.”

He noticed her reaction, and his tone softened. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

“It’s clearly bothering you.” Kianthe’s voice was a whisper. “Fauston—I had no idea.”

He laughed, hollow, deprecating. “Of course you didn’t. Your mind is an amazing thing, but it doesn’t linger on what’s no longer visible. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised we faded from your thoughts.” He turned away from her, resuming their leisurely pace.

It felt anything but leisurely now.

“Fauston.” Kianthe grabbed his arm.

“It’s fine, Key.” He forced a smile, then dropped it when her expression crumbled. He scrubbed his face. “Okay. It’s not fine. We were two halves of the same whole. What happened?” He clenched his eyes shut. “To be clear, I’m not upset you’re marrying your best friend. It just hurts to think there’s no room for me in your life now.”

Kianthe hadn’t even sent him a letter. When she rekindled discussion with her family, she hadn’t even thought to pen a letter to Fauston, too. Stone be damned, she hadn’t even mentioned him to Reyna.

Her oldest friend, pushed aside for years, shoved into a corner so dark she’d forgotten about him entirely.

“I’m—I’m so sorry.” Kianthe acknowledged the tremors, the sweating palms, the quickening breath—and reminded herself that there was a time and place. She couldn’t make up for the lost time.

But she might be able to fix this.

Without hesitation, she swept Fauston into a bear hug. She squeezed him so tightly he grunted, then started to laugh. It made her laugh too, and she squeezed harder just to prove she could.

Just like when they were kids.

He was still chuckling when they broke apart. “Sorry. The entire trip to Tawney, I told myself I wasn’t going to bring this up. That you were happy, and that was all that mattered.”

“You matter too,” Kianthe said fiercely. “I don’t have an excuse, Fauston. I … I think I figured you were growing up without me.” It felt so stupid now, considering how long Kianthe traveled alone, with only Visk as company.

All this time, Fauston had felt the same way.

What a waste of years.

“I did grow up. I’m just glad to see you now.” Fauston clasped her arm, smiling. This time, it wasn’t forced. “I appreciate the apology, though.”

“You could have written me too,” Kianthe pointed out, only half-kidding.

He rolled his eyes. “Do you know how hard it is to write the Arcandor? I’m pretty sure the Magicary has a mage whose only job is igniting every letter to you unless it comes from a head of state.”

That was partially true. The Magicary had an entire team of staff members dedicated to reading the Arcandor’s mail—and so far, only three letters had made it past their scrutiny. But they didn’t set the discarded letters on fire.

Probably.

She coughed, embarrassed now. “Ah. Well. Let’s fix it. I’ll write more—and visit. I promise.”

He shrugged. “I mean, I wasn’t joking about relocating. After hearing of your exploits, I wondered what kind of exciting things I’d find outside of Jallin. Sounds like the Realm is a pretty great place.”

“There’s a lot, absolutely.” Kianthe cast him a sideways glance, walking shoulder to shoulder. Her voice was tenuous. “Do my parents feel the same way?”

They were into the burnt half of town now, and pirates lingered along the streets. They were obeying orders to keep things quiet and calm, but a cluster was gathered around a game of molem, whispering bets. No one glanced their way as Fauston led her down one of the narrower streets.

“Well, you wrote them more often.” He winced. “But there’s a reason they dropped everything to come this week. Believe it or not, it wasn’t matchmaking. Mostly. We all missed you.”

That made Kianthe both remorseful and pleased at the same time. Sad she’d lost so much time. A little satisfied they were willing to take such a long trip to celebrate with her.

“Now I just have to hope my partner doesn’t … Rain … on their expectations,” Kianthe said.

Fauston rolled his eyes. “Let me guess. You call her Rain.”

Kianthe grinned. “Sometimes.”

“Cute. Okay, I’ll do what I can to help. But you owe me for this.” Fauston tossed open the door to a slightly burnt house, and Kianthe braced herself for the oncoming storm.

13

Reyna

Reyna had a covert meeting at Feo’s compound the next morning.

Yet again, it was bright and early—too bright and early for Kianthe, especially after she’d dropped onto their bed in the middle of the night, mumbling about her family reunion. Reyna pulled her close and carded her hair, half-asleep herself, and no more conversation was had.

Before she left in the morning, Reyna paused at the doorway of their bedroom to admire her partner. Kianthe was sprawled out over most of the mattress, drooling onto a feather pillow, the bed’s blankets tangled in her legs. She was absolutely beautiful.

Fondness fluttered in Reyna’s chest, and she had a smile on her lips as she stepped out the door.

Once she locked the barn behind her, though, the weight of the meeting settled back on her shoulders. She breathed a sigh and made a familiar detour to Tarly’s shop. Most of the time, Reyna could ignore the absence of the weight at her hip, but with everything happening, she really wanted her sword.

She rapped on the door to the smithy, but the clanging from inside was so loud she barely heard the knock herself.

“Tarly? I’m coming in,” she called, swinging the door inward.

Tarly was hard at work on something, with Gossley hovering over his shoulder stoking the fire with a bellows. They spun toward the entrance as the bright morning light spilled across their workspace, and the horror on their faces spoke volumes.

“Ah, Reyna! What a surprise.” Panic laced Tarly’s tone.

Reyna crossed her arms. “Morning, you two. What are you working on?”

He reached up as if to scratch at his neck, except the heavy smithing hammer was still in his hand—which meant he came within a hair’s breadth of knocking himself unconscious. Behind him, Gossley had awkwardly propped one leg onto the anvil to further block Reyna’s view and was fiddling with the laces of his boot while he desperately tried to maintain balance.

Gods. These two.

“Oh, nothing important. You here for your sword?” Tarly laughed far too loudly. “Of course you are; that’s all you ask about these days. Well, it’s not done yet. I’ll have it ready by the wedding, don’t you worry.”

A playful air lingered in his voice, like an inside joke.

Behind him, Gossley grinned.

A wedding present, then. Kianthe’s doing, or someone else’s? Reyna racked her brain to the day her sword snapped in half—the first day in ages that Kianthe had asked to try using it. Was there magic involved? Swords were metal and earth, after all.

Hmm.

She kept her expression relaxed, maybe a bit disappointed. “All right, no problem. Just wanted to check.”

If Kianthe were here, she’d say something like You were sword of curious, then? Reyna was somehow relieved Kianthe wasn’t—and exasperated that the pun almost left her lips instead.

“I’ll keep you updated. I’m sure you have somewhere to be?” Tarly sounded hopeful, gesturing at the door.

“I do. Don’t forget to grab flour from the market before you come into work today, Gossley.”

“Yes, Miss Reyna,” Gossley chimed.

Reyna purposefully didn’t look at the red-hot weapon on the anvil as she let herself out. Tarly closed the door behind her, locked it, and a few moments later, the clanging resumed. If she listened closely, she heard Tarly’s booming laugh, Gossley’s amused chuckle.

Impeccable actors they were not.

Still, Reyna wiped the exchange from her mind. Whatever Kianthe was hiding, she didn’t want to spoil the surprise. With amicable waves at the early risers of Tawney, she pressed onward to Diarn Feo’s compound on the west side of town.

The compound was always a little sad. It was fully fenced, built like it was intended for a military—and then never housed one. Several shacks filled the property, each no more than a room in size. Once upon a time, Feo had housed dissenters here, folks who believed Feo should seize control of Tawney from Lord Wylan and the Queendom.

That era was long gone. Now, Feo had opened it to the lonely or downtrodden. A teenager, newly released from her parents’ house, sipped a mug of tea outside one. Sigmund and Nurt had claimed two others, although Reyna strongly suspected they just liked the proximity to a lord’s private discussions.

They really should be chatting at Lord Wylan’s manor—but the topic of the conversation would make that location difficult.

“It’s about time,” Feo called. They were drinking tea with Lord Wylan as comfortably as if they did this every morning.

Maybe they did.

Reyna sighed. “We had a late night. Kianthe’s parents are in town.”

“Oh, wonderful,” Feo drawled. “Well, let’s not delay. I’m sure you’d love to spend more time with the in-laws right before a big wedding.” The sarcasm in their voice was heavy enough that even Lord Wylan snorted.

The three of them stepped into Feo’s private office—one of the larger buildings in the compound. Reyna was expecting to see a messy desk, piles of books, and possibly an alchemy circle or two. She wasn’t expecting the Dastardly Pirate Dreggs, who was lounging across one of the armchairs. They wore yet another low-cut shirt, with the swell of their new breasts framed as a point of pride.

Kianthe was right. It was distracting in the best way.

“Ah—” Reyna swallowed her words. “Good morning, Dreggs.”

“Good morning, dear,” they replied with a wink.

No explanation.

Reyna glanced at Feo and Wylan, both of whom shrugged. “You’re the one who invited an infamous pirate to our town,” Feo muttered, even though they’d met Dreggs on the Nacean and only had glowing things to say in private.

“I … am choosing to stay out of this. The Queendom has a neutral relationship with the pirates; Her Excellency would prefer not to disrupt that.” Lord Wylan spoke amicably.

The grin Dreggs offered in response was like a tiger’s smile.

Reyna wasn’t intimidated. She crossed her arms as Feo closed the door behind them, shutting out the rest of the compound. “To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit, Captain?”

“Oh, my dear. You know exactly what this is about.”

Well, she couldn’t argue with that. Reyna eased onto the couch opposite them. The furniture made the room feel very cramped, but someone had set out a kettle and some cups. No scones, Reyna noted, but she supposed this was hardly a professional affair.

Reyna busied herself making a cup of tea, but said lightly, “What would you like to know? Obviously, no further moves have been made since our last discussion. Everything will culminate at the wedding.”

“It’s good to know the deadline.” Dreggs shifted so their feet were on the floor, then leaned over their knees. “Not that we aren’t enjoying the revelry, but every day I’m out of the Southern Seas is another day some chipper young upstart thinks they can overthrow me.”

The amusement in their voice made it very apparent how likely they felt that option was … but Reyna didn’t miss the sharp look in their eyes. It was a possibility, like anything else, and it added a level of pressure to her request.

Near the door, Diarn Feo narrowed their eyes. “What I’m gathering from this is that you looped in a known criminal without informing us.”

“Well, we already have Locke taking point,” Wylan inserted seamlessly. “I somehow doubt Dreggs’s record is worse than Her Excellency’s spymaster.”

“I assure you, it is not.” Dreggs steepled their fingers. “Allow me to make a bold assumption: Miss Tessalyn is the unclaimed daughter of Queen Eren, hells rest her soul.”

Reyna winced at that implication, but it wasn’t far off. Like mother, like daughter. Eren had been as bad as Tilaine was now. She didn’t argue with Dreggs’s statement.

Dreggs smirked, raising a finger. “Confirmed. Thank you, Reyna. Now, there’s only one reason you three—and, I’m assuming, the Arcandor—would ask me to ferry an unknown heir to the biggest wedding of the century, which is also doubling as a coup. And that is to take Tilaine’s spot on the throne.”

Feo massaged their brow. “Is it too late to uninvite you? Because I’d like to uninvite you.”

Dreggs chuckled, leaning back in their chair. “Confirmed. Thank you, Diarn Feo.”

“No problem,” Feo grumbled.

“Now, I’ll take a wild guess as to the purpose of this meeting.” Dreggs stared Reyna down. “Your precious heir, the woman on whom all hope rests … wants nothing to do with her future position.”

“Then you talked to her,” Reyna said.

Dreggs waved a hand. “I talk to everyone who joins my crew. She was particularly inclined to discuss things with me … especially once she found out I’d infiltrated a royal ship to Leonol once.”

The news sank in.

“What?” Wylan scrubbed his face. “You knew Tessa existed? And where she was? Do you know how long Feo hunted for her?”

Dreggs quirked an eyebrow. “Ah, the compassionate words of a benevolent benefactor.”

There was an undertone of irritation in their voice, Reyna noted. How interesting, especially coupled with the disapproval they’d voiced on the plains when they first arrived.

Tessalyn seemed to be a sore spot for the pirate captain.

Wylan paled, obviously unsettled with Dreggs’s implication.

Feo, meanwhile, bristled. “Yes. We hunted for her. Because like it or not, her existence changes everything. Tilaine is a scourge on the Realm, and not even you can argue with that. It’s a sad day when a pirate captain utilizes kinder methods of suppression than a sovereign.”

“And because of Tilaine’s actions, Tessalyn shouldn’t have a choice in this future?” Dreggs examined their nails, staying unnaturally calm. Whatever emotion they’d let slip before, it was hidden beneath a cool mask now.

Their tone only seemed to incite Feo more. “Not everyone gets a choice in their futures. Take the merchants you steal from. They’re hardly willing participants to your piracy.”

Dreggs’s pleasant smile had assumed a bitter edge. “They aren’t; it’s true. Although how violent we are depends on their reaction. Most survive with their dignity and limbs intact.”

“How kind,” Feo drawled.

The pirate captain’s blue-gray eyes flashed. “I’m worried you’re romanticizing who I am because of my reputation. Make no mistake: I am not a kind pirate, and I am not a nice person. If you’re going to be skirting that line by forcing Tessalyn into something she doesn’t want—at least acknowledge that about yourself, councilmember.”

Feo gritted their teeth, raised their hands like they might strangle Dreggs. The pirate didn’t move—utterly unconcerned—which seemed to remind Feo where they were. Instead of responding, Feo stormed outside the office, slamming the door in their wake.

Lord Wylan reached for his teacup, clearly torn between leaving after Feo and handling the guests here. “Dreggs—”

“You’re playing with fire, young lord,” Dreggs said, pushing to their feet. “Queen Tilaine will murder you if she discovers this plot. Or rather, when she discovers it.”

“We’re counting on that,” Reyna said.

That cut Dreggs off. They cast a glance at her, eyes narrowing. “Pardon?”

Reyna sipped her cup of tea, enjoying the dramatic tension. Finally, she swallowed and lowered the cup. “You once mentioned that you’d infiltrated Queen Tilaine’s private ship to Leonol, and that you’d met my mother. Regretfully, my mother was killed years before Tilaine was crowned, so you either misspoke—or were purposefully trying to divert me from the trail.”

Dreggs paused, raising their eyebrows in amusement. “And what trail is that?”

“The fact that you are Tessalyn’s parent.”

Wylan nearly dropped his tea. The cup slid from his hands, and only a quick jerk salvaged it—but it spilled all over his clothes anyway. He swallowed a curse.

Reyna kept a careful eye on the pirate’s reaction, but as always, Dreggs remained composed. The only indication she may be onto something was a bare twitch of their shoulders—there and gone in a flash.

Except she didn’t really need physical confirmation. The puzzle pieces had fit themselves into place when she was talking with Locke last season, while moonlight filtered through New Leaf’s windows. It was never Tilaine’s ship to Leonol—it was Queen Eren’s.

She knew, because Locke had also been on that ship. The spymaster had seen a sailor approach the day of the voyage. He’d seen Queen Eren’s eyes meet the sailor’s gaze. He’d seen her lips quirk upward, and he’d seen her approve their boarding without examining credentials.

Locke had suspicions … and a spymaster’s suspicions were rarely wrong.

Lord Wylan lifted his wet shirt away from his skin, grimacing. “Ah, I’m going to go … check on Feo.” And he stepped outside, easing the door closed behind him.

In his absence, the office seemed stifling. Dreggs shrugged out of their jacket, yet again taking a seat—like now this conversation was suddenly worth their time.

“Well. This is awkward.” Dreggs reached for a cup of tea, scooping dried leaves into a linen filter. “Refill?”

“The black tea at my shop is more palatable. These leaves were harvested too late. They’re slightly bitter.” Reyna hoisted her cup.

Silence passed as Dreggs steeped the tea, scooped a bit of sugar, and filled it with a warm kettle perched over a candle. The hot water pouring was the only noise until they cleared their throat. “I assume Locke told you.”

“Locke mentioned it. I was waiting to see your reaction this week to confirm.” Reyna swirled her cup, mixing the sugar into her tea. “I’m more intrigued to know if you built your fleet beforehand—and Queen Eren consorted with a known pirate—or after. Locke found surprisingly little on you that wasn’t published in a fictitious memoir.”

Dreggs chuckled, almost sheepish. “The memoir takes liberties and leaves things out. I actually met Eren while she visited Shepara on a diplomatic mission, a season before she went to Leonol. I won’t bore you with the details, but … she was fierce and ruthless, and Stars above, that was a fatal combination for me back then.”

“How romantic,” Reyna replied dryly.

“Like you haven’t swooned over Kianthe during an intense battle.” Dreggs waved off her sarcasm. “She went home, I continued making a name for myself. It was a one-night thing … but then she sent me a letter confirming she was pregnant. I traveled to the Queendom and met the ship, because what else could I do?” Fondness overtook their voice. “Tessalyn was a wonder. Born in Leonol, too, so technically not a Queendom citizen.” Their gaze locked on Reyna’s.

The warning was loud and clear.

Reyna finished her tea in one final swig. “You left her in Leonol.”

“Eren left first. But yes, I didn’t waste much time following suit.” Dreggs set their jaw. “Back then, my fleet was … new. I’m not kind or nice, but the other pirates of the Southern Seas were vicious. They made Eren’s bloody laws look like child’s play.”

Reyna couldn’t attest to that, but she didn’t doubt it. Before Dreggs established their illicit empire, there were records of impassable routes, ghost ships smeared in blood, stranded sailors. The Southern Seas had a reputation, and Dreggs taming it gave them an even greater one.

Dreggs’s voice was cautious. “Tessalyn had two loyal Queensguard raising her, and a friend in James. She was protected. Loved. I visited from time to time, but … well, I wanted her to have a happy life independent of negative influences.”

Reyna frowned. “Dreggs, you aren’t a negative influence.”

The pirate swirled the liquid in their mug, watching the tiny leaves drift downward. “I don’t think you understand the lengths I went through to pull those other pirate captains from power. There’s a reason Eren was captivated with me, too.”

That settled between them, sinking like an anchor off the side of a ship.

Dreggs set down their cup, and that protective edge slid back into their voice. “Tessalyn shouldn’t have to replace Tilaine. It’s bad enough she’s spent most of her life fearing an attack.”

And an attack had happened, if Victoria was any indication. “Do you know what happened to James’s aunt?”

“No. I’ve had it on my list to investigate, but—well, things got busy.” Dreggs set their jaw.

Reyna sighed. “I see.” A pause. “Does Tessalyn know about your relation?”

She never thought she’d see the suave pirate captain frazzled, but that was certainly Dreggs’s reaction. They swallowed, averting their gaze, sweat beading on their brow. “I’m going to tell her. Obviously, she deserves to know. But—Stars, looking her in the eyes makes it damn hard.”

They didn’t want her to be disappointed.

Still, it was a selfish fear. “She does deserve to know. Right now, she feels like she’s all alone in the world. Your fleet could hide her. Give her everything she needs to be safe.”

Truth had settled in Reyna’s soul. Tessalyn didn’t want to be queen—and they had to respect that. It complicated things immensely on their back end, but Reyna was in the business of protection, and she wouldn’t let an innocent party face consequences for this.

That was why she invited Dreggs and their pirates in the first place: to protect Tawney.

“I can, and if that’s what she wants, I will.” Dreggs set down their cup of tea. “But somehow, I doubt Tessalyn will be happy with that. She’s better suited for the university in Leonol, or in the council chamber in Wellia.”

Reyna couldn’t argue with that.

Dreggs pushed to their feet. “As long as you aren’t forcing her into a life she doesn’t want, we don’t have a problem.”

“Hang on a moment.”

The pirate paused, tilting their head. A slow smile crossed their lips. “Ah. Then there is something else.”

Reyna chuckled. “Of course there’s something else. You have one of the best information networks outside of the Queendom’s spies. When this week is over, we need confirmation of new leadership to spread far and wide. I want every town in the Realm talking about it.”

The further that rumor spread, the smaller the chance a scorned Tilaine might lie about her position to regain some form of power. If everyone knew she was just a disgraced queen, they could relocate her anywhere they needed, and she wouldn’t be a threat.

Most likely.

“You really aren’t just going to kill Tilaine?” Dreggs asked, deadpan. “It’s easier for everyone.”

“It makes Kianthe feel ‘icky,’” Reyna replied. But secretly, she wasn’t opposed to seeing how the wedding day panned out. If Tilaine reacted poorly to the news, Reyna would protect her wife.

No matter what.

“I’ll spread the word.” Dreggs sighed, stretching.

“Excellent. Enjoy the day, Captain.”

With that handled, Reyna strolled from the office.

14

Kianthe

For the second time in three days, Kianthe left New Leaf for Lord Wylan’s mansion.

Granted, this time Reyna was with her—dressed in the fanciest outfit Kianthe had ever seen. The long dress hugged her hips in all the right ways, its skirt swaying as they walked through town. Kianthe kept lagging a few steps behind just to get a better look.

After the third time, Reyna stopped. “Key. If something’s wrong with the dress, now is the time to tell me.”

“What in the world would imply something’s wrong?” Kianthe grinned slyly. “I’m admiring, because damn.” Reyna’s cheeks had been powdered several shades lighter than her rose skin tone. In contrast, her lips were painted rouge and Kianthe brushed a thumb over them almost reverently. “I just … never see you like this.”

Reyna flushed, red tinging her skin below the powder. “It’s not that uncommon. This was a required uniform when we were undercover in Her Excellency’s court.” She tugged at the dress, which was dyed sapphire blue with folds that draped over her toned shoulders. “Those were always my least-favorite days, but I figured it’d be nice for your parents.”

“They’d better like you regardless.” Kianthe didn’t bother hiding her thinly veiled threat.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t still make a good impression.” Reyna patted Kianthe’s cheek and continued walking.

Kianthe followed her up the path. She’d changed into dress slacks and a button-down shirt and added one of her nicer vests over it. The result was a tight outfit that didn’t help her anxiety. She drew slow, calming breaths as they approached the manor, its door already open with Ralund waiting in the threshold.

“M’ladies,” he intoned, bowing deeply. “Your guests are waiting in the parlor.” He turned away, yet again proceeding through the tour they’d earned earlier that week—pausing at paintings of Lord Wylan’s family, the Queendom’s history, and unique possessions of the manor.

More practice for the queen. Goody.

This time, though, Reyna didn’t seem to be listening. She smoothed her dress again and leaned closer to Kianthe to murmur, “This is silly. We should be hosting your parents at our home, not Wylan’s.”

Kianthe winced. “I didn’t want them intruding on your space. If tonight goes poorly, I’ll handle them from here on out, but at least then New Leaf stays safe. Your comfort is my priority.”

“That’s sweet,” Reyna replied, squeezing Kianthe’s arm. “But now that I’ve met Fauston, I’m hardly concerned about them interrupting the wedding. Our lives will be easier if your family likes me.”

Kianthe sighed. “I suppose.”

“The dining room,” Ralund said loudly, interrupting them. He bowed and gestured through a doorway, into a stone-walled room with two hearths—Two. Why two? Kianthe thought—and a dining table so long it seemed absurd. To make matters worse, the table was beautifully decorated, and the chairs were positioned comically far from each other.

“Please wait here while I retrieve your guests.” Ralund moved down the hallway without another word.

Now alone, Kianthe blurted, “Can’t we sit closer together?”

Reyna balked. “We’re inside a Queendom lord’s house. This is exactly appropriate for a dinner party.”

“Sure, sure. Where’s the messenger hawk who delivers my half of the conversation?”

“Key,” Reyna deadpanned.

“Oh, my apologies. It certainly is better than the Magicary custom of setting the table on fire to flambé the food before eating.” Kianthe delivered it with enthusiasm, watching Reyna’s expression for the telltale twitch as she acknowledged the joke.

Reyna almost rolled her eyes—but stopped herself just in time.

Kianthe grinned and took one of the seats. After a moment’s consideration, Reyna sat beside her … which still meant she was a literal stone’s throw away. Even if Kianthe lunged off the chair, she still couldn’t touch her partner.

They waited in silence.

“This is fun,” Kianthe said. “We could be having a drink with Matild and Tarly right now.”

“We could be doing a lot of things,” Reyna replied simply, but she’d spent a lifetime stoically standing behind a queen, so sitting at a dinner table was clearly no bother.

Kianthe, however, was twitching by the time Ralund opened the door again and admitted her parents. Her mother was dressed in a lovely blouse with billowy sleeves, and tasteful jewelry that complemented the shirt’s deep blue color. Her father, meanwhile, was wearing a shirt Kianthe recognized from childhood—because she absolutely left that strawberry jam stain on its left cuff.

Elysia swept Kianthe into a huge hug before she could even stand.

“Mom, I saw you yesterday,” Kianthe wheezed.

“And before that, it was decades,” her mother tutted.

There was something nice about being hugged by her mom, Kianthe decided.

She followed it up with a hug for her father. Meanwhile, Reyna stood, bowing slightly at them. “Elysia. Magnus. Such a pleasure to see you again.”

Her father chuckled, glancing around the formal dining room. “Certainly a fancier setting this time.” He shook Reyna’s hand, then nudged Elysia. Kianthe’s mother forced a smile and shook Reyna’s hand as well.

Falsely polite. Kianthe had seen that expression every time her grandmother came to visit. It instantly soured Kianthe’s mood.

If Reyna noticed, she didn’t let it show. She simply gestured at the chairs across the wide table. “I believe Lord Wylan had a meal of rabbit prepared. Do you like stew?”

“I like everything,” Magnus said, taking a seat.

Elysia perched beside Kianthe, lips pressed together. “I feel like I’m leagues away from you, dear. Maybe I should sit on that side. It’s been so long.”

“I’d prefer to sit next to my partner,” Kianthe said before Reyna could move.

Elysia’s expression pinched, but she begrudgingly took a seat across from Kianthe instead.

Ralund opened the side door—not the one they’d entered from, but one intended for servants from the kitchen—carrying a bottle of wine. The sickly attempt at conversation died altogether as he filled their glasses. The quiet splash echoed in the expansive room.

With a silent bow, Ralund stepped back into the kitchen.

“So,” Reyna said, offering a kind smile. “How was the journey here? Did anything interesting happen?”

“We saw a unicorn,” Magnus said. “West of Wellia.”

“Keep your distance. They’re awful.” Kianthe couldn’t stifle her shudder.

Elysia waved a hand to interrupt. “Our stay in Wellia was actually rather eventful. Our dear Fauston somehow got us tickets to the theater—we were able to watch a lovely performance.” She lowered her voice, almost conspiratorially. “It was about two star-crossed lovers who were separated for decades, but reunited under incredible circumstances.”

Irritation flickered in Kianthe’s chest. Her mother still wasn’t making eye contact with Reyna. She opened her mouth to say something, but Reyna smoothly interceded.

“I’ve heard of that play. What a lovely evening.” She raised her wineglass. “Actually, now that we’re all together, I would like to make a toast … to reuniting family.”

Everyone raised their glasses as well, and echoed her words. “To reuniting family.” Magnus seemed wholeheartedly enthusiastic, but Elysia’s tone was laced with bitterness. When they lowered their glasses, she murmured, “And how unfortunate that we needed reuniting.”

“Okay,” Kianthe snapped, narrowing her eyes. “We talked about this yesterday. I told you why I didn’t write, and I apologized. I thought we were fine.”

Magnus clenched his jaw, but Elysia rose to the occasion. Her voice was stiff. “We’re fine with you, dear. You’re our daughter, and the Arcandor herself. We understand you’re busy.” Her eyes cut to Reyna, and she added, “Although if you’re so busy, I am perplexed at how you found time to foster a relationship with a Queensguard. She must have made plenty of time for you.”

The implication was clear.

Fire built in Kianthe’s chest, and she had to draw a calming breath to keep flames from pricking the air. “Say it outright.”

“Key—” Reyna murmured, lowering her wineglass. “It’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t.” Kianthe pushed to her feet, holding her mother’s gaze. “Go ahead, Mom. Say what you’re thinking. Tell me why you don’t like Reyna, even though she’s been nothing but kind to you both. Even though she makes me happier than anyone. Even though our wedding is in a few days.”

Magnus cleared his throat. “We like Reyna—”

“Dad.” The candles over the table flared, just enough to shock them both into silence. Kianthe leaned over the table. “Enough. I’m so sick of this.”

“You’re the Mage of Ages,” Elysia said helplessly, her hands fluttering now.

“So?”

“So.” Magnus scrubbed his face. “Someone like Fauston knew you before. He won’t take advantage of that. But a Queendom citizen—one of Tilaine’s royal court—”

“I was never a part of the court,” Reyna interjected smoothly. “As I told you before, I was a Queensguard.” She didn’t sound upset. In fact, she took another sip of her wine, acting as if she expected this exact conversation tonight.

It reminded Kianthe of the prejudice Reyna faced in Shepara just because of her accent. Of the people who discarded her simply for where she was born, or the job she’d been consigned to since birth. She hadn’t had a choice in being a Queensguard—any more than Kianthe had a choice in being a mage.

Magnus sighed, falling silent.

Elysia didn’t. “We’re just worried, Kianthe. We want you to be with someone who loves you, not someone interested because—” She trailed off, averting her gaze from Reyna.

Kianthe laughed, cold and hard. “You think Reyna’s with me because I’m the Arcandor? That’s why you don’t like her?” She tossed her hands in the air, which had chilled considerably. “I didn’t write you for almost a decade because I was afraid of disappointing you—but if this is the threshold, I shouldn’t have bothered.”

“You can never disappoint us,” Elysia spluttered.

“Except in my choice of a bride, apparently.”

Magnus looked unsettled. “I’m certain Reyna is a fine choice—”

“Oh, that’s another thing. Reyna is the reason I wrote you at all. She’s the reason we’ve ‘reunited.’ So, you can thank her for this.” Kianthe gestured at the table, the four of them together in this stupid room.

That made Elysia pale. “R-Reyna did?”

Kianthe opened her mouth to respond, but Ralund cleared his throat from the servant’s door. “Dinner is served.” Four bowls of steaming food perched on a large wooden tray, but his eyes cut between the guests before he entered.

“Thank you,” Reyna said, draping a cloth napkin over her lap.

Kianthe slowly sank back into her seat, mostly because Reyna clearly wasn’t leaving—and Kianthe couldn’t exactly storm out without her. Ralund set the bowls in front of each of them, and Kianthe maintained awkward eye contact with her mother.

Silently daring her to fix this.

“Enjoy your meals.” Ralund bowed and made a point of shutting the door tightly behind himself.

In the silence, no one seemed willing to eat. Reyna broke the tension with another sip of her wine. “I understand your concern.”

Kianthe’s parents balked.

Kianthe, meanwhile, wanted to tell her to stay quiet, that she didn’t have to defend herself. But Reyna shot her a comforting smile, and some of Kianthe’s fury melted away.

“The Arcandor does have immense power, and we know that every country in the Realm would take it for themselves.” Reyna’s gaze was unflinching.

“Exactly,” Magnus said. “We just want to be sure Kianthe won’t be at risk.”

Reyna stirred her stew, then let her spoon rest. Her tone was conversational, but the pinched undertone was impossible to miss. “I spent a decade with a singular purpose: protect the queen. I was allowed no other priorities—not my safety, not my comfort, not my life. Only Her Excellency mattered. Anything less was treason.”

Reyna stole a glance at Kianthe. It held such fondness that warmth spread from Kianthe’s heart to the tips of her toes. Stone damn, she loved that woman.

“Queen Tilaine didn’t know that I committed treason long before I left my post.”

A familiar happiness bubbled inside Kianthe, and she wished for the hundredth time that the chairs were closer so she could grab Reyna’s hand—or maybe just scoop her up in her arms, decorum and parents be damned.

“Kianthe is my priority now, and I will protect her with everything that I am. You may choose to believe that or not, but it will remain true.” Reyna took a bite of her stew, leaning back in her chair.

Kianthe couldn’t resist. “Would you say that anything less is treason to your heart?”

Reyna nearly choked on her food. “Now? Really?”

Elysia’s brows knitted in surprise. Either she expected Reyna to sit and take her jabs, or hearing Reyna’s words calmed a rampant fear in her mind.

Magnus relaxed, offering a smile that was almost genuine. “Well. That’s some dedication.”

“Your daughter deserves it … and I know she’d do the same for me.” Reyna blew on another bite of stew. “So, did you do anything else in Wellia, or travel straight here?”

They continued meaningless chatter through dinner. Elysia sat in grudging silence, and Kianthe mirrored her, tense and defensive as she waited for the next remark. But the evening wore on, and eventually Ralund brought out dessert: a chocolate truffle with whipped cream and cherries.

But just when Kianthe thought they were ready to flee to New Leaf and unwind after a disaster of an evening, Reyna cleared her throat. “I’d actually like to take a detour home, if you two don’t mind accompanying us.”

“Oh,” Magnus said, eyes widening. “I figured you would want to … ah, end the evening.”

Elysia averted her eyes, still stubbornly silent.

“Not quite yet.” Reyna offered a warm smile. “If you three want to head outside, I’ll give our regards to Lord Wylan, then meet you in the courtyard.”

They stepped into the wide hallway, where Ralund had inexplicably appeared to lead them outside. Kianthe paused at the doorframe, checking that her parents were out of earshot. “I’m so sorry, Rain. We can just leave. That was already … a lot.”

Reyna merely squeezed her arm. “Dear, they’re worried about you. If my mother had been alive, she’d have already challenged you to a trial by combat.”

“What?”

“Queensguard custom. Anyone who marries into the family has to prove themselves.” Reyna’s grin assumed a wicked tilt. “It’s always quite a spectacle. But if the betrothed isn’t willing to bleed for us, we’d be hard-pressed to count on them when times get tough.”

Kianthe rubbed the back of her neck. “Ah … yikes. Okay. Your family sounds terrifying.”

“And yours doesn’t faze me.” Reyna pressed forward and offered a kiss. Her grip on Kianthe’s shoulder was firm, comforting. “Trust me on this, okay? It’s one week with them, and then they go home. I’d rather they return as in-laws than enemies.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Reyna gestured out the door. “Just give me a few moments to thank Wylan and Ralund for their hospitality.”

“Sure, sure.” Kianthe trudged after her parents.

In the cold evening, Elysia and Magnus were muttering to each other. Kianthe stomped over, crossing her arms, and interrupted them. “Reyna is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she said forcefully.

“Ah—” Elysia hesitated.

“We know,” Magnus said. “And if you say she’s loyal, we believe you.”

Kianthe squinted at their expressions. “It doesn’t look like you believe me.”

Elysia rubbed her arm. “We’re trying. We just—are you sure Fauston isn’t a better option? He knows you.”

“By the Stone of Seeing itself,” Kianthe muttered. “Look. I’m sorry your friends are moving, and you want to tie the families together. But that’s no reason to rake Reyna through the mud. She’s really trying to impress you two.”

Elysia flinched.

Magnus, meanwhile, chuckled. “It was a nice idea, Kianthe. You can’t fault us for trying.”

Kianthe seriously doubted that.

A few moments later, Reyna joined them in the courtyard, gesturing for them to follow her away from the manor. “This will only take a few extra moments. It’s just on the edge of town.”

New Leaf was on the edge of town—but that didn’t seem to be where Reyna was taking them. Instead, she walked confidently through the burnt half of Tawney, weaving through ancient streets where the buildings were mostly rubble and scrap wood. With little regard for Elysia and Magnus, she looped arms with Kianthe, leaning close against her shoulder.

It was a pointed gesture that warmed Kianthe from the inside out. The walk felt amicable after that, with them leading and Kianthe’s parents trailing behind.

Finally, they emerged on the northeast side of town to find a plaza Kianthe hadn’t noticed before. It was framed by a small garden, planted to perfection with spring flowers that were just starting to bloom. The building at its center was tiny, barely bigger than their washroom, but it was made entirely of glass, aside from the wooden frame.

A greenhouse. Even in the dark, the inside was brimming with plants that must have been meticulously tended for several seasons.

Reyna pulled away from Kianthe, looking abashed now. “I was going to give this to you after the wedding, but tonight seems like a good moment for it.” She pressed a kiss to Kianthe’s lips. “Happy wedding, dearest.”

Shit. “Your present is still in progress,” Kianthe blurted.

Reyna laughed, the sound like musical chimes. “I suspected. Go take a look inside. I’m afraid it won’t fit all of us, but it should be a nice, relaxing space for you on the cold winter days.”

A wave of giddiness swept over Kianthe, and she kissed Reyna hard, then pulled open the door. The rush of warmth welcomed her, and she instantly spelled some ever-flame into existence. Like in their barn, the tiny flames rose toward the ceiling. Their cozy heat amplified the space’s temperature, and the plants sighed in contentedness.

In the corner, Reyna had set up a pair of comfy armchairs and a tiny bookshelf. A little reading retreat, just for Kianthe.

It was perfect.

Her father had joined her, and he whistled. “She built this for you?”

“She’s like that,” Kianthe whispered reverently.

Magnus rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I’ve seen all I needed to. And I’m sure Reyna is out there persuading your mother, too.” He nodded past the greenhouse’s doorway. Reyna had stepped closer to Elysia, and the two women were locked in a conversation. Kianthe scrutinized her mother’s body language, but it just seemed vaguely apologetic—if a little guarded.

The greenhouse felt like another world. Kianthe relished the privacy, meeting her father’s gaze. “I’m truly sorry I didn’t write before. If I’d told you about Reyna from the first day—”

“Your mother still would have been suspicious,” Magnus said good-naturedly. His tone softened. “You’re doing great, Kianthe. If she makes you happy, that’s enough for me. Your mother will come around.”

The sudden wash of gratitude mingled with inexplicable sadness. She hugged her father again. “I always wanted to make you both proud.”

“You have.” Magnus smoothed her hair, kissed her head. “Never forget it.”

Tears pricked Kianthe’s eyes, and she nodded against his chest.

Maybe tonight wasn’t so bad after all.

15

Reyna

The next morning, Lord Wylan greeted them at the door to his manor. He looked mildly exasperated. “Tessalyn is in the back with James. She decided to plant flowers in my garden.”

“Not a euphemism, I presume.” Kianthe offered a devious smile.

Reyna snorted before she could help it. Most of the time, she could predict her partner’s jokes—but sometimes her humor took Reyna by surprise. “Key,” she hissed, trying and failing to keep a straight face.

Wylan’s cheeks colored. “Just once, I’d love to see your serious side, Arcandor.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Kianthe replied.

Reyna cleared her throat. “We can find our way there. I’m sure we interrupted your breakfast.”

“It’s a working breakfast.” Wylan stepped aside to allow them access to the long, wide hallway through the manor’s center. Unlike Ralund, Wylan didn’t make them stop at every portrait. He moved with confidence through his home. “Feo has assigned me the task of compiling information on every queen’s blessing since the start of the Queendom. They’re frustratingly vague. I hate to admit Feo might have the right idea about our Gods, but…”

The words cut unexpectedly deep, severing the thin cord of patience Reyna’s own religious doubts had been fraying all week. Her response was scathing. “The Gods can be real, Lord Wylan, even if the blessings are a stretch.”

Wylan grimaced. “Of course.”

Kianthe whistled, turning her attention to the stone ceiling high above them. “Well. This got awkward. You two could be like me and worship a rock.” She grinned, conjuring a ball of flame that danced over her twirling fingers. “It comes with magic sometimes.”

It broke some tension. Lord Wylan chuckled. “Regretfully, worshiping the Stone of Seeing isn’t a common practice in our lands. But maybe someday.”

“Maybe someday,” Reyna echoed.

More silence.

Lord Wylan paused as they passed his library. “I’ll leave you two. Call myself or Ralund if you need anything. He’s at the market now, but will return shortly.” He glanced at Reyna, paused like he wanted to say something else.

She tensed.

He noticed, closed his mouth, and bowed instead. The library’s door closed behind him. Off to research blasphemy, apparently.

Fear curled in her gut. Reyna pivoted on her heel, walking toward the garden at a brisk pace.

Kianthe jogged to catch up. “Hang on.” When Reyna didn’t stop, Kianthe danced in front of her. “Rain, please.”

“I’m fine,” Reyna said.

Her partner squinted at her. “Super convincing. You’re free to believe what you like, love. It shouldn’t matter if the Gods are real or not—if you believe they are, if they bring you comfort, that’s enough. Okay?”

“It’s not enough,” Reyna snapped. She realized it, scrubbed her face with two hands. “I’m sorry, Key. I think the stress of this week is getting to me. We have to approve the final cake design later today, your mother wants to have tea with me before the ceremony, and—oh, yes—we have three days to find a replacement royal before a potentially violent coup. I don’t have time for a theological debate.”

Her words hung between them. Embarrassment flushed Reyna’s body as she realized what she’d said. It was all true, but Gods, there was a better way to phrase things. She tried to step back, to apologize—but Kianthe gripped her shoulders, a comforting lifeline.

“Deep breaths, okay? Maybe two or three, or six. Can you do that?” It verged on stern, which was a tone Kianthe didn’t take often. It still didn’t feel like they had time, but she wouldn’t ignore her partner’s pleas. Reyna closed her eyes and drew several slow breaths.

Kianthe followed suit. It was nice, to breathe together in this empty hallway.

Reyna’s frenzied brain quieted.

“Ah,” she admitted, almost sheepish. “That is better.”

“Learned from the best.” Kianthe grinned. “Put aside the Gods. Today, right now, our big question is next steps. And we won’t know the answer without talking to Tessalyn. Are you ready to focus on this, or would you like a bit more time?”

Reyna owed Kianthe an honest answer. She drew another deep breath and compartmentalized her thoughts. It sometimes felt like she was doing this alone, but Kianthe’s grip on Reyna’s arm was a solid reminder that they were a pair.

Now, and forever.

“I’m ready.” Reyna’s voice was soft. “Thanks, Key.”

“Anytime, dearest.” Kianthe pressed a kiss to her lips and took her hand, casually guiding her out the double doors to the manor’s courtyard.

It was a cloudy day today, patches of sunlight interspersing with chilly shadows. The meeting area in the center, a stone firepit framed by several wooden chairs, was empty. Instead, piles of dirt mingled with several bags of seeds and saplings, the latter of which were meticulously stacked along the pavers.

James and Tessa knelt side by side. Tessalyn was carving a deep hole into the hard soil, and James was attempting to maneuver around her and deposit a prickly pine tree into it.

“You have to—yeah, it needs to be deeper,” James said, frustration evident in his voice.

“It’s plenty deep,” Tessa replied curtly. “All the books say it needs a hand’s width, and that’ll be enough.”

James huffed. “This one is bigger than the trees in your books. You have to adapt—”

Kianthe pointedly cleared her throat. The pair swiveled to glance at her.

“Don’t do it,” Reyna warned.

“I have to.” Kianthe laughed and called loudly, “That’s what she said!”

Reyna couldn’t handle it. She swallowed a laugh and pressed a hand to her forehead. “Oh, my Gods. Why are you like this?”

Kianthe shrugged. “Come on. Deeper? They set me up perfectly.”

The pair across the courtyard decided to ignore that joke. Instead, Tessalyn pushed back her long hair, accidentally smudging dirt on her cheek in the process. “Well, then. The elemental mage can settle this.”

“Good,” James sniped back. “What do you think, Arcandor? The hole needs to be deeper, right?”

“Move on, Kianthe,” Reyna said, deadpan.

This time, though, her partner’s attention was seized by poor planting practice. “I’m less concerned with the size of the hole and more concerned with why you’re forcing that pine tree inside a tiny planter box.” Kianthe quirked an eyebrow, one hand on her hip. “Do you know how big that thing will get? The tree is offended you’d even try this. Might I suggest some lovely flowers there instead?”

Both of them stiffened. James handed off the pine tree sapling to Tessalyn, who grunted under the sudden weight, her fingers tangling in the soil ball and roots. Meanwhile, he pushed to his feet, brushing off his trousers, and clapped soil off his hands. “Well, that settles that. Look, I’m going to grab a book from New Leaf, since I’m apparently invited to book club.”

“We have our pick stacked on a table in the front,” Reyna offered. “Tell Gossley and he’ll show you.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll help you. You need it.” Kianthe strode over, relieving Tessa of the pine tree. She placed it delicately into a large bucket, magicked some soil around it, and petted its needles fondly. “It’s okay, cutie. We’ll find you a spot with a view.”

The tree straightened under her attention, basking in the Arcandor’s glow.

James paused at Reyna’s side, tilting his head. “Ah, would you be interested in drills sometimes? I used to practice with Aunt Victoria, but—well, it’s been a while, and I’m getting rusty.” Grief filtered into his voice.

Reyna wondered how Bobbie and Serina were faring. But until they had good news, she couldn’t let James know they were investigating. Instead, she clapped his shoulder.

“I’ll borrow a sword and we’ll work on it.”

“Great.” He grinned and strolled back into the manor.

Tessa pushed to her feet, stretching her back. “Apologies. Botany was one of my courses of study, but it was theoretical—the study of plants, not the practice of planting. Gardening was a subset I didn’t have time to explore.”

“Luckily, it’s not going anywhere.” Kianthe was already sorting through the seeds and plants they’d stacked along the side of the courtyard, pulling a choice few aside. She gauged the patchy sunshine, shuffled her picks around, and nodded. “Okay, you can start with these … here, and here.” At the words, she set plants at certain areas around the courtyard. “Then use the seeds here. The strawberries will grow berry nicely as we get more rain.”

Kianthe waited to see if anyone would notice the pun.

Reyna sighed.

Tessalyn, meanwhile, seemed more concerned with the fact that Reyna was hovering. Discussions of planting fell away as she bit her lower lip. “Are you here to convince me of a life I don’t want?”

“Not anymore.” Reyna took a seat on a marble bench beside the planters. “We’re taking ‘no’ for an answer.”

Tessa blinked. “Oh.” She cast a suspicious glance at Kianthe. Magic sparkled around the Arcandor as she knelt beside the planter box. With just a wave of her hand, fifteen perfect holes shifted into the soil, and Kianthe began planting at her leisure.

Reyna recaptured Tessa’s attention. “We’re here to discuss options. Like it or not, Tilaine cannot be allowed to remain in power. It’s only a matter of time before she discovers who you are—and that you’ve left Leonol. You won’t be safe.”

“I’ll have James. We can disappear in Wellia, or head farther west.” Tessa set her jaw.

“It’s an option. Has Dreggs talked with you?” Reyna asked curiously.

Tessa’s blank expression said a lot. “No. Should they have?”

Hmm. Tessa wasn’t the only one running, then. Reyna massaged her forehead. “Absolutely. Try to find them at some point; you’ll definitely need that conversation. But they’ve offered a spot in their fleet, if that interests you. You’ll be safe there.”

“With pirates on the open ocean?” Tessalyn paled. “I—I don’t want to be a pirate. Isn’t there somewhere else?”

“Sure.” Kianthe glanced over her shoulder, her hands patting the soil around the roots of a bright red flower. “You can take a stand with us in three days, and we can end Tilaine’s reign once and for all.”

Tessa clenched her eyes shut. “I’m sorry, but I can’t get involved in a coup.” Her gaze followed the path James took out of the garden, and her shoulders slumped. “Not because I don’t agree with it—obviously, we’d all be better off without Tilaine. But … James doesn’t deserve what’s coming.”

“I think what’s coming is everything James has prepared for,” Reyna replied honestly.

“That’s my concern.” Tessa rubbed her arm, dropping to the bench beside Reyna. Kianthe had resumed work on the planter box, and Tessalyn watched absently as she slowly brought the soil to colorful life. “He’s ready to throw himself into battle for me. Ready to die for me, just like his aunt. I didn’t ask for this—but neither did he.”

Reyna tilted her head. “We all have choices. He made his a long time ago, and never wavered from it. He wants to help you, however that looks.”

“I don’t like the way that looks.”

“That’s fair. Kianthe isn’t fond of me throwing myself into battle either.”

“Damn straight,” Kianthe called from her position on the ground.

Reyna chuckled, then refocused. “Unfortunately, if you stay in Tawney, you’ll be face-to-face with Queen Tilaine whether you like it or not. If you want to avoid the fight, now is the time to leave. That’s why I mentioned Dreggs’s fleet.”

“I—” Tessa hesitated, looking at her dirty hands. She picked at soil beneath her nails. “We just got here. I don’t want to run off with some pirates.” Her voice grew quiet. “And James is really excited about this place. He keeps talking about your game night.”

Reyna could imagine, after a season alone in a house that used to be full of life and love, that anywhere else would be a refreshing retreat. Tessa had clearly enjoyed the courses at the university, but James was more social—and Tawney was known for its welcoming community.

Pride at their town swelled in Reyna’s chest.

Kianthe had finished with the first planter box and apparently decided the entire garden needed help. She moved fluidly around the space, clearing brush and dead plants. Her fingers drifted to the seed pouch perpetually at her hip, and she sprinkled some into the soil. “Rain, look at this.” With an upward motion of her hand, the seeds sprouted into an exotic monstera. “Leonolan specialty!”

“Very nice, Key.” Reyna glanced sideways. Tears had pricked Tessalyn’s eyes as she stared at the plant from—essentially—her home country. Reyna’s voice softened. “Tessa?”

The lost heir swallowed hard, pressing the heels of her palms to her eyes. “I don’t want to be queen.”

“You don’t have to be. We’re not asking that.” Reyna kept her tone soothing and gently touched Tessa’s arm.

The woman pulled away, clenching her eyes shut. “Don’t lie to me. There’s no other option. Only a descendant of royal blood can be queen, and there’s only two of us.”

“So … help us determine another option.”

Silence.

“What do you mean?” Tessa asked, almost hopeful.

“Leonolan citizens specialize in the pursuit of knowledge. You must have some ideas of other forms of government.”

“You’re suggesting we eliminate the monarchy,” Tessa murmured.

It twisted Reyna’s gut, but she hid her discomfort, tilting her face to the rare patch of sunshine instead. “Maybe.” Her response was purposefully vague—letting the heir herself shape the future of the Queendom.

It worked. Tessalyn started pacing, tapping her chin. “We’d need something the entire country could get behind—so it can’t be too radical. Something similar to the council is an obvious choice, but I think, at least for the immediate future, we’ll need some form of royalty. A physical person folks can rally behind until the replacement system is created. But the monarch shouldn’t have to be blood related. That’s an antiquated tactic at best.”

Reyna stayed on the bench, watching Tessalyn brainstorm. Watching the future of her country take hold.

It really was momentous.

Across the courtyard, Kianthe was too busy planting a ficus tree to care.

Tessa’s face was alight now as she analyzed options. “Actually, a monarch of merit would gain Leonolan favor. Right now, Tilaine is too shortsighted to recognize her own failings, and that’s very off-putting for a society based in knowledge and accomplishment. The first thing we learn about is our own inherent biases.”

“So, a monarch chosen through merit could serve as a placeholder until you establish a council.” Reyna knew that Tessalyn would have ideas, but she was pleasantly surprised to realize her ideas were … good. Obviously, Reyna’s first preference was an heir of royal blood. Her second was ensuring the best parts of the Queendom continued, while the worst parts were fixed or replaced.

And for a solution, this wasn’t bad.

“We probably couldn’t call it a council, or we’d confuse everyone. Parliament, maybe. We’d have to discuss it with the lords and determine what would best represent their interests, and that of their people.”

Reyna had a question. “Who’d be queen in this scenario?”

That stilled Tessa. Her cheeks colored, and she rubbed the back of her neck. “This is why I don’t want the job. I don’t know the Capital, or Tilaine’s court. I have no idea who a true candidate for the monarchy would be.”

It soured Reyna’s mood, just a bit. “The best candidate is you, Tessa. That’s why we were pushing so hard. The royal spymaster has already been tracking options, and you’re top of the list.”

“Okay, then.” Tessa hesitated. “Who’s second?”

Kianthe leapt to her feet, bouncing. “Oooh, oooh. I know! Pick me.”

Reyna frowned. “Okay, Kianthe. Who would you choose?” It wasn’t a bad question—the Arcandor certainly met every dignitary of worth. Asking her before today felt like overstepping Tessalyn’s rightful inheritance, but now that she’d suggested the idea, Reyna was genuinely curious about her partner’s opinion.

The mage grinned, strolling closer. She draped herself over Tessalyn’s shoulders, whispered something inaudible in her ear.

Tessa’s expression shifted from perplexed to intrigued to amused. “By the Stars, you’re right.”

“Wow. Is this what it feels like?” Kianthe smirked.

They both met Reyna’s gaze.

“What?” Reyna crossed her arms. “Who is it?”

“You,” Tessalyn said simply.

16

Kianthe

“Absolutely not.” Reyna delivered the words with finality.

They’d been arguing and planting for a good portion of the afternoon, with only a short break for lunch in the courtyard, courtesy of Ralund. At Reyna’s words, Tessalyn tossed up her hands. By now, the garden was teeming with gorgeous plants and Kianthe was getting bored, so she didn’t object when her partner muttered, “I need a drink,” and stormed for the exit.

“You coming? Drunk Reyna is always fun.” Kianthe gestured after Reyna.

Tessalyn heaved a sigh, but clearly she was too intrigued to let Reyna slip away.

Of course, they didn’t even make it to the inn’s pub before James caught Kianthe’s eye. She elbowed Tessalyn and nodded across the town square. “Looks like my oldest friend finally caught up with your oldest friend.”

Fauston was, indeed, chatting with James, who had a thick leather tome under one arm. James seemed to be locked in an internal battle of enjoyment versus professionalism. Whenever Fauston made an obvious joke, James laughed and leaned in, then immediately pulled his shoulders back and reduced his mirth to a simple smile.

Queensguard. No fun.

“That’s what you were like when we first started dating,” Kianthe said to Reyna.

Reyna had calmed down on the walk, especially since no one pressed the “you should be queen” issue again. She glanced at James and replied, “Darling, that’s what I’m like now.”

Kianthe blinked. “You’re right. We should work on that.”

“Try me after a drink. Or three.” The second sentence was muttered, and Reyna strolled into the inn.

So, not calmed down.

“I’m already having fun,” Tessalyn said, and followed her into the inn. Kianthe tossed up her hands, left Fauston and James to their clandestine conversation across the town square, and stepped inside as well.

Matild and Tarly were already seated at the table by the empty fireplace. It wasn’t too cold outside, and with the pirates crowding the bar, the room was pleasant. Matild had laid a swath of white linen over the table and was jamming a finger onto the fabric.

Tarly saw them first. “Thank the Gods. Reyna, Kianthe. Settle a debate for us.”

“There’s no settling,” Matild retorted. “We are not redoing half the tablecloths three days before the big event. The seamstress will have a fit, and I’m not going to deliver that kind of news.”

“But these were supposed to be white, and they’re clearly cream.” Tarly sniffed. His tone was haughty, which was surprising enough. “She’s the Arcandor. If Tawney can’t throw a perfect wedding for them, we’ll go down in the history books.”

“If we go down in the history books for that instead of decades of dragon attacks over a misunderstanding, I somehow think it’s preferable.” Matild leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms stubbornly.

Tarly huffed. “Who brought the dragons into this?”

Reyna dropped to the seat beside Matild and stole her glass of wine. She inhaled the red blend deeply, then took two huge swigs.

Kianthe was suddenly rethinking Drunk Reyna. It was one thing to enjoy a night with some wine. It was another entirely if Reyna was drinking to forget.

“Ah, love? Maybe alcohol isn’t the best idea now.”

“Don’t give me that tonight.” Reyna glared.

Tarly protectively pulled the white-but-almost-cream tablecloth away, casting a suspicious glance at Reyna’s wine. Matild opened her mouth to object—then saw Reyna’s harried expression and closed it.

“What’s going on?” The midwife pursed her lips. “Do not tell me you two are having second thoughts on … on the wedding.” She cast a pointed glance at Tessalyn as she spoke.

Matild had fled the Grand Palace with Tarly, once upon a time. Although they’d secured a tenuous promise of her safety in Tawney, Matild was eager to see Queen Tilaine removed from her throne. After Locke’s visit, when they’d filled the couple in on the plan, she’d snatched one of Tarly’s blacksmith hammers and asked, “Where do you want me?”

Now, the fear of it falling apart was evident in her voice.

“It’s not that.” Kianthe took the seat beside Reyna. “They know, Tessa. About you, about everything.”

“Well, shit,” Tessa said, her cheeks coloring.

“It’s a pleasure, Your Excellency,” Tarly intoned, bowing his head. The inn was loud, but he still kept his voice low, nearly inaudible.

Tessalyn grimaced. “Don’t call me that. I’m not taking the job.”

“What?” Matild’s voice was sharp.

“Yeah, that brings us to the current problem.” Kianthe rubbed comforting circles on her partner’s back. “It was just a suggestion. You don’t have to do it, Rain. We didn’t force Tessa, and we’re not forcing you.”

Reyna groaned, burying her face in her arms.

“That tablecloth is definitely cream,” Kianthe told Tarly.

He grinned triumphantly, clutching the cloth to his chest. “Told you.”

“But is cream a problem?” Matild pressed.

“Well, I don’t think either of us care. This whole thing is just for show.” Kianthe shrugged, then noticed the murderous looks on Tarly and Matild’s faces, and cleared her throat. “Ah, I mean, it’s the most special night of our lives. Everything should be perfect.”

Tessalyn rolled her eyes and pushed away from the table to grab a drink of her own. She chatted with Hansen at the bar for a few minutes and returned with a pint of ale and a new glass for Matild.

“We’re looking for a replacement queen,” Tessa murmured, seemingly relieved to have an additional set of friendly ears. “Kianthe suggested Reyna.”

“Kianthe is obligated to suggest me. I’m her partner. The love of her life. She thinks I’m perfect—which means she can’t understand why this is a terrible idea. You should know better, Tessa,” Reyna hissed. She’d regained some vigor, draining the last of Matild’s wine before pushing the glass closer to the midwife. “More, Matild.”

Matild quirked one eyebrow. “It’s pretty early in the day, Reyna.”

“You’re right; it’s ridiculous to make the seamstress redo the tablecloths because they’re cream.” Reyna delivered the sentence deadpan, then held the midwife’s gaze intensely.

Matild smirked. “There we go.” And she poured another healthy glass of wine from her secret jug.

Kianthe pinched the bridge of her nose. “For the record, I’m hardly biased here, Reyna. You were raised on the outskirts of Tilaine’s court and have a long family history in the Capital. You’ve already begun forming connections with other countries—establishing trade routes and favors. You’re familiar with travel and you’re the only non-mage to possess a griffon mount, which means you can address problems faster than anyone else.”

It all sounded good to Kianthe, but the look Reyna shot her was vitriolic.

“I was raised to be a bystander of the courts. Queensguard aren’t participants.” Reyna held up a finger, then continued ticking others to address every sentence Kianthe uttered. “My family were servants of the crown, not royals. The connections were formed through you. Maybe Feo, Bobbie, and Wylan if we squint a little, but the rest are because of your influence. And Ponder hardly makes me worthy of a crown.” Now desperation drenched her tone. “The queen has other relatives, you know.”

“Come on, Rain. I’ve met those relatives. They’re all terrible.” Kianthe rolled her eyes.

Across the tavern, a pleased roar erupted from a table of pirates playing molem. Tessa used the distraction to say, “I personally imagined that if there were another suitable candidate of royal blood, the queen’s spymaster would have arranged an assassination ages ago. Getting me out of Leonol took a lot more work.”

She wasn’t wrong.

Reyna glowered. “It doesn’t matter. The Queendom lords will never allow someone like me to take the throne. I’m just a tea maker now.”

Across the table, Matild and Tarly exchanged glances. Matild seemed contemplative, almost intrigued. Tarly silently folded his tablecloth into a meticulous square, tucking it into their bag, while Matild poured another glass of wine for herself and settled in for the show.

Tessalyn, meanwhile, was just getting started. Her voice was as quiet as possible while still conveying her irritation. “You’ll be the Arcandor’s wife. She’s already offered her endorsement—”

“The Arcandor’s opinion has no backing in the Queendom.” Reyna narrowed her eyes, drawing another swig of wine. It was meant to be sipped, not gulped, but that wasn’t stopping her tonight.

“If you were concerned about the current court’s opinions, I hardly doubt you’d be overthrowing its monarch,” Tessa retorted.

If this kept up, they’d alert half the town to their secret wedding plans. Kianthe grimaced and slid into the conversation. “Listen. It’s irrelevant. It was just an idea—but if Reyna doesn’t want the job, then we need to move on. We already spent too much time trying to convince Tessalyn—sorry for that, by the way.”

Tessalyn raised a glass, offering a shrug. “Intellectually, it makes sense. Just a hard no from me.”

“Right.” Kianthe cooled the air around their table with a thought, icing the heat of the conversation. “So, Rain. If you don’t want it, we’ll need to chat about other options.”

It seemed to shock Reyna out of her argumentative state. She lowered her chin to her arms again, staring glumly at her wine. “It’s not that I don’t … want … it. It’s that I don’t deserve it.”

Huh. That piqued Kianthe’s interest. She glanced sideways at her partner. “You’d take over the Queendom?” Reyna’s loyalty ran deep to her home country, but … well, she’d left the Capital for a reason. Hearing her say that made this more real, and suddenly Kianthe regretted suggesting it. “I thought you’d want to stay in Tawney.”

“Me too,” Tarly said glumly. He reached for his own ale.

“I do.” Reyna dug her fingers through her hair, clenching her eyes shut. “I do. I love this place. But the Queendom needs a sovereign we can trust. If we follow Tilaine or someone like her, we’ll wind up in war—and imagine what that will do for Tawney.”

Tessalyn grimaced, sinking lower in her seat. “A town split between Sheparans and Queendom citizens, all with the expectation to fight each other.” She let that linger, and the words soured the longer they sat.

Reyna swallowed hard. “My country needs help, and I’ve spent a lifetime preparing to serve the crown. You were right, Key. My loyalty is to the crown, not one queen. What I can’t stomach is the idea that I’m somehow the best fit to become that leader. There has to be someone else.”

“Actually, you might be the one queen I could get behind,” Matild remarked.

All eyes swiveled toward the midwife.

“Not a euphemism,” Kianthe inserted.

Matild snorted. “You know what I meant.”

Kianthe settled back in her chair. “Do tell, Matild.” Her smug tone couldn’t be missed. Matild loved Reyna as much as Kianthe did, but she also had strong opinions on most things. If she’d endorse Reyna, she definitely had reasons for it.

The midwife shrugged. “You’re down to earth, and you think ahead. You’d be setting foundations for future prosperity that might not be realized for generations—but Gossley’s kids will thank you for it. That’s who you are, Reyna.”

“And you’re one of us.” Tarly raised his glass. “Your biggest ambition was opening a bookshop that serves tea. I’d love a royal with humble beginnings.” His tone turned contemplative. “If you were ruling years ago, Matild and I wouldn’t have needed to flee our homes and families just to enjoy a life together.”

“I’ll toast to that.” Matild clinked their glasses together, and they both drank.

Tears welled in Reyna’s eyes, and she scrubbed them with her sleeve in a fruitless attempt to hide the evidence. Kianthe tucked a strand of ice-blond hair behind Reyna’s ear, then draped an arm over her shoulders, pulling her as close as their chairs allowed. Reyna immediately melted against her.

Now seemed as good a time as any to reveal the truth. “Besides. You may have my endorsement, but Locke was the one who suggested it.”

Reyna stiffened under Kianthe’s touch, swiveling to face her. “What? He didn’t say that.”

“Not to you.” Kianthe offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry; I should have mentioned it sooner. He pulled me aside on his way out of town. I knew it’d send you into a tizzy—”

“I am not in a tizzy.” Reyna gasped in indignation, clutching her wine closer. “I’m frazzled. There’s a difference.”

“Of course there is, love,” Kianthe teased.

But Reyna was incited again. “Locke is mistaken. You’re all mistaken. Tarly just said it: I’m one of you. I don’t—there has to be someone better suited. Or we tackle the parliament idea.”

“Those two things should run simultaneously,” Tessa injected, drumming her fingers on the table. “We can’t expect lords to hand over their lands without a war—but if we institute a new queen who slowly begins parceling away her control, we’ll change things over time. I’d be delighted to help with that part.”

A final attempt. “What about Lord Wylan? He’s dedicated, and recognized by the crown.”

Tessa huffed. “Giving this title to someone with existing power just means anyone with existing power might see an opportunity. Imagine what the rest of the lords would do if they knew the crown was up for grabs.”

“That, sure. And Wylan identifies as a man,” Matild replied, deadpan. “The Gods won’t bless him.”

“The Gods won’t bless me,” Reyna exclaimed. “Why have you all lost your minds?”

Kianthe held up fingers, ticking down like Reyna had done moments ago. “Okay, Rain. You reunited the dragons with their long-lost eggs, and now our relationship with them is the best it’s ever been. Your alliances took down the most corrupt lord in Sheparan history. You helped locate the long-lost heir and offered her a choice in taking the throne. You make everyone’s lives better.”

“That’s a bit much, dear,” Reyna whispered, gaze dropping to the table.

Kianthe smiled softly, lifting Reyna’s chin to recapture her attention. “You have my endorsement. But it’s not because we’re partners. It’s because you’re incredible, and people are finally starting to notice.”

Reyna finished her second glass of wine, sniffled, and said, “I’m not agreeing, because this is ludicrous. But—if I were to entertain this … we need a God’s blessing. And if I step into the throne, it can’t be a fabricated one.”

Doubt had settled into her tone, and Kianthe read between the lines. If the Gods offered a blessing, it was proof that Reyna was worthy of the title she might receive. That she’d earned it somehow, just like every queen before her.

But considering Kianthe’s suspicions about the Gods, that might make this difficult.

“You know what’s interesting?” Tessa drawled, regaining the table’s attention. A sly smile had tilted her lips. “In Leonol, we have history books. A lot of them. And I went through a phase where I was obsessed with Queendom theology. I’m sure you can’t find anything but doctored texts in the Grand Palace’s libraries, but altering books is highly illegal in Leonol. That means our libraries have a wealth of knowledge—good and bad—if you know where to look.”

“What’s your point?” Matild raised an eyebrow.

“I learned that we have no record of anyone worshiping the Gods before the Queendom was established—and that happened three hundred years ago. Right around the time of the dragons’ Great Awakening. In fact, before that point, we have records of mages born in the Queendom lands.”

Kianthe perked up. “Really?”

“They weren’t like current mages.” Tessalyn tugged the table’s candle closer, picking off three tiny pieces of melted wax that had dried into lumps. She placed them on the table’s center. “Alchemy, elemental magic, and dragon magic. The three types, right?” When Kianthe nodded, she tapped the one designated for dragon magic. “Well, I did some digging, and there are records of mages that could access dragon magic.”

“That’s impossible,” Kianthe said, although a thrill swept through her. The Magicary had long since puzzled over the mystery of why no mages were born in the Queendom—but the general accepted logic was that they didn’t worship the Stone of Seeing. Even alchemists started with elemental magic first.

If worshiping a source of magic was the path to that magic, then dragon magic would have a different deity.

“Did those mages worship dragons?” Kianthe breathed.

Tessalyn’s eyes were alight. “It’s wholly possible. Even in Leonol, those mages are myths. Long-buried stories of ancient fantasy. But I believe there’s truth to everything. Maybe the dragons awoke and took their magic back—and that loss created a power vacuum during a desperate time of war. It’s possible my ancestors took advantage of that desperation and replaced worshiping dragons with worshiping fake Gods.”

“That’s blasphemy,” Matild said, gripping Tarly’s arm.

“Call it what you like, but Lord Wylan and I have been having some enlightening discussions around it.” Tessalyn shrugged, sweeping the wax off the table and onto the wooden floor.

Reyna massaged her eyes. “I—” She sounded distant, exhausted. “I think I’d like to go home. Have a cup of tea.”

“Me too,” Kianthe replied, pushing to her feet. “Matild, what time do we need to be at the bakery tomorrow?”

“Early,” Matild said, clearly relieved to be back on wedding planning. “In fact, tomorrow’s the day we’re going to start setting up the ceremony location. We may need your opinions.”

Reyna slumped to the table. “I have to meet Kianthe’s mother for tea, but otherwise, we’ll be available. Gods, I can’t believe there’s still a wedding to coordinate.”

“Just a few more days, dearest.” Kianthe patted her back. “And then you may be ruling the Queendom.”

Reyna offered her a teary-eyed glare.

She winced. “Too soon?”

“Far too soon, love.” Reyna trudged for the inn’s door, picking past tables of drunk pirates. She raised her voice to be heard over their shouts and laughter. “See you all tomorrow.”

As she followed Reyna to the door, Kianthe heard Tessalyn launch into a new discussion about Patol’s beehives. She snorted. Tarly and Matild were in for a night with that one.

Her hand slipped into Reyna’s as they walked back home. Whatever Reyna’s decision, tonight, Kianthe just wanted to relax. And based on how her partner leaned into her with a tired sigh, that feeling was mutual.

Sometimes, problems could wait.

17

Reyna

Reyna had been so focused on the political side of their wedding and family drama that she’d forgotten the actual event needed to be executed as well.

Luckily, the townsfolk hadn’t. When they came outside the next day, the huge field south of New Leaf Tomes and Tea was bustling with people.

And after yesterday, it was a welcome surprise.

Matild stood in the center, shouting instructions as she consulted a sheet of parchment pinned to a thin wooden board. Tarly and several other well-built folk—the town carpenter, the roofer and his apprentice, and one of their bakers—were hefting chairs and tables into the field. Several oiled tarps were piled in the corner to protect stacks of furniture until the day of the wedding. A few teenagers were placing lantern posts, cordoning off a large space that overlooked the forest southwest of Tawney.

“Excuse me, you two,” Sasua grunted from behind them, carrying a stack of large tiles.

“Ah, let me help—” Reyna immediately moved to take some of the load, but Sasua stepped out of the way.

“Nonsense. We’re happy to get this together for you two.” She smiled and strolled along the path. Matild saw her and tapped her paper, then pointed to an area on the eastern side of the event.

“Dancing floor is over here,” the midwife called. “We need those tiles pressed together. Kianthe, if you can clear a flat area for us, that’d be helpful!”

Reyna resisted the urge to huff in frustration. “Why are you called to help, but I’m pushed aside?”

“Well, I’m the only mage around. We have plenty of folk with muscles.” Kianthe offered a wink as she strolled after Sasua. “Grab a drink, love. I’m sure someone will give you a glass of wine.”

“It’s far too early for that.”

“I heard some Kollean winemakers are mixing juice into their drier wines. Maybe give that a go.” Kianthe waved and left.

Rather than stand awkwardly on the clearing’s outskirts, Reyna strolled to Matild. The midwife barely glanced at her, consulting the paper again before shouting, “No, Tarls, not there. That’s where we’ll set up the chairs. We need tables near the dance floor.” And she gestured after Sasua and Kianthe.

Tarly and his helper, the carpenter, set the table on the hard dirt. Tarly wiped his brow, offering an exasperated scowl. “You told me it was here. This thing isn’t exactly light.”

“I changed my mind.” Matild grinned. “It’s my prerogative. You knew it when you married me. Dance floor, please.”

Tarly sighed, exchanged a knowing glance with the carpenter. The two men hauled the table up again, grunting as they staggered east.

“Let me—” Reyna moved after Tarly—only to be caught by Matild.

“Oh no. You have more important places to be. We’ve got huge pots and firepits set up to boil water, but we’ll need plenty of tea for the guests.” Matild lowered her voice, awe in her tone. “Feo said the council will be here in a day or so.”

“The whole council?” She knew that was Feo’s job, but damn. Reyna grimaced. “Isn’t one councilmember enough?”

“To witness the greatest overturn of the century?” Matild’s voice was deadpan. “I think Diarn Feo wants enough folk here that no one can argue the new change in power.”

That made Reyna feel hot all over. That change in power could be her, and she hadn’t had enough time to process it. How far did her determination to better things extend, anyway? She must have looked a little sick, since Matild gave her a once-over and patted her arm.

“Listen. Just set whatever tea you have the most of aside, and we’ll make do. I’m sure Gossley can help me.” Matild pointed across the huge clearing. “Feo and Wylan are over there, debating who’s going to officiate. Why don’t you go settle that discussion, before one of them murders the other?”

Feeling disconnected, Reyna forced a smile and followed her suggested path.

The rest of the townsfolk were clearly enjoying this interlude in their daily lives. Hansen had hauled out two barrels of ale on a large cart and was cheerfully offering pints … for a fee, of course. He waved at Reyna and offered her a mug. “Good for the soul, Reyna! Yours is on the house!”

“We’re doing the heavy lifting.” The roofing apprentice groaned, setting the chair he was carrying in the grass and stretching his back. “I think we deserve free pints.”

“Free pints at the wedding. You aren’t rewarded for being a good neighbor.” Hansen smirked.

The roofing apprentice huffed. “My wedding wasn’t like this.”

“Save the town from dragon fire, and we’ll talk.”

Reyna left them to bicker, swallowing a laugh as she continued on. This place felt like home. Tawney, the folk in it, their lives here. It was unpredictable and chaotic and she loved every second—especially after years in a stiff palace, where every day was the same and every outcome was predetermined.

Sadness swept over her soul. If she accepted Tessalyn’s suggestion— and it was ridiculous, so obviously she was not considering it—but if she did … everything would change. She couldn’t live in Tawney. The queen belonged in the Capital.

Would she really give all this up, for the good of her country?

It was everything she’d asked Tessalyn to do, and it made her stomach flip. She suddenly couldn’t fault the young woman for refusing.

There was an undercurrent in Reyna’s soul, however—one she didn’t dare acknowledge. One that prodded her, whispered, You wanted more. You always knew you were destined for more. She’d be a damn good queen. But admitting it felt blasphemous.

Presumptuous.

At least this would be a good distraction. Diarn Feo and Lord Wylan were perched beside a raised wooden dais. The town florist, Marlow, was pinning flowers to it, and they smiled warmly when Reyna approached.

“Did Kianthe like the greenhouse?”

It was a welcome distraction. Reyna nodded. “Her reaction was everything I’d hoped. Thank you so much for helping plant it. I think that’ll be a real oasis for her.”

“You’re the one who built it.” Marlow thoughtfully chewed their lip, pinning a swirl of ivy just so with a curved metal clamp. Already, the dais was becoming a living work of art. Gorgeous. “Frankly, it’s an honor that my plants would grace the Arcandor’s presence. I’m sure they’re happy too.” They fluffed the leaves of the ivy. “This guy’s already swelling with anticipation.”

Marlow wasn’t a mage, but Kianthe often said they should be. She kept slipping pamphlets about the Stone of Seeing in their mailbox. Marlow, however, seemed content to grow plants the old-fashioned way.

Reyna patted their arm. “Well, thank you for everything regardless. It was a lovely gift.”

“Happy to help.” Marlow jerked a thumb at the bickering leaders. “And, ah … good luck with them.”

She’d need it, apparently. Feo was puffed up like a sparrow, tossing their hands in the air. Wylan, meanwhile, was stiff, arms held tight to his sides as he struggled not to scowl.

“—is nonsense, and you know it,” Feo was saying. Snapping, really.

Wylan barely refrained from rolling his eyes. “What we’ve discussed is irrelevant. Reyna is a Queendom citizen. If we don’t acknowledge the Gods in the ceremony, we’ll demolish relationships with any lord who attends.”

“You’re the only lord in attendance.” Feo crossed their arms. “Unless that’s changed?”

Wylan pressed his lips together.

Feo squinted. “Wy. Has that changed? The council will be here any day—I need to know if they’ll be mingling with Queendom lords.”

“One has confirmed. Mercon’s lord. But I suspect more will arrive.”

“If they haven’t sent ahead confirmation—”

“Well, they wouldn’t.” Wylan exhaled in irritation. “Lord Jaquine said she’d travel this way, but wouldn’t attend the ceremony unless Her Excellency was present. Anything less would be suicide. Literally.”

Feo massaged their brow. “I loathe your country sometimes.”

“Shepara is hardly sunshine and roses,” Lord Wylan grumbled. “Yet here we are. Now, we can work together, or you can continue pouting—”

Reyna cleared her throat. Her boots clicked on the dais, the hollow sound echoing as she approached them. They both glanced her way; Wylan did a double take and cleared his throat. Feo crossed their arms.

“Excellent. Reyna is here to settle this. A union with the Arcandor requires acknowledging the Stone of Seeing, which will be an extensive process. Now, Harold and Allayan are on their way to perform that part, but we’re in debate on how much your Gods should prevail over this arrangement.” Feo tilted their head.

And here Reyna thought they were suddenly debating who’d preside over the ceremony itself.

She almost wished that were the concern.

“Obviously, your desires are important as well,” Wylan inserted. “But there’s a discussion over how a ceremony placating the Gods might affect Kianthe’s connection with her own magic.”

Reyna raised an eyebrow. Overhead, Ponder and the baby dragons cut across the sky, yet again playing in the gorgeous weather. Considering most springs in Tawney came with pouring rain, Kianthe must really be affecting the elements lately. Reyna should ask about that.

It took a moment to remember she owed them an answer.

“Ah. I believe that’s something you’ll need to discuss with Kianthe.”

“A typical Queendom marriage ceremony requires combining the blood of the participants, in the name of the Gods, queen, and country.” Feo scowled. “That sounds like the setup of an alchemy circle to me. Kianthe can’t take part in that.”

They may be right, and Reyna hated to admit it. Her stomach churned, and she forced a smile. “If it comes between my faith and Kianthe risking her magic, the answer is obvious.”

The Gods were threatening, but their retaliation amounted to rumors, old tales told around a hearth. Meanwhile, Reyna had watched dragon magic mingle with Kianthe’s personal well of elemental magic—and she knew exactly how sick Kianthe could get from it. It really did feel that simple to her.

She wouldn’t put Kianthe at risk.

Wylan stared at her. “You’re doubting the Gods.” It wasn’t accusatory. It was more a marvel, like he was impressed by it.

Reyna recoiled. “I—”

“Everyone should doubt your Gods,” Feo interrupted. “Just like they should doubt the Stars and Stone of Seeing’s scripture.”

Overhead, Pill Bug roared, sending a burst of fire at its sibling. However, since they were so young, it barely amounted to more than a puff of smoke. Gold Coin snarled back and tackled Pill Bug in the sky.

We might have worshiped dragons, Reyna thought, feeling off-balance.

She’d looked a dragon in the eye, brandished her sword at it to protect Kianthe. She’d crafted an actual plan of attack. If it was true—if dragons were the deities before the Gods—what did that mean for her? For her country?

Feo was still talking. “The only true link we have is the Stone’s effect on the ley lines and magic—that can be traced. Humans should assume that everything else is fabricated by someone older and more power hungry.”

Kianthe had arrived, apparently done stamping out a flat area for the dance floor. She dusted off her arms and hopped onto the dais. The staircase was right beside her, but the earth itself seemed to give her a boost. “Depressing as always, Feo.”

Reyna had never been more grateful for backup. “Excellent timing, Key.”

“I can tell.” Kianthe waved at Marlow, who was studiously ignoring this conversation, and strolled up to Reyna. Her eyes never left Feo. “Look, if we followed a deity because of its physical connection to power, we’d be worshiping dragons.”

Reyna stiffened.

“Maybe we should,” Feo retorted.

“Gold Coin tried to eat my leather satchel last week,” Kianthe said, deadpan. “They aren’t infallible either. Don’t bring your existential crisis into Reyna’s life, Feo. She has enough to worry about.”

That, at least, seemed to temper Feo’s argumentative spirit. They glanced at the wedding preparations, scrutinized Reyna’s neutral expression, and rubbed the back of their neck. “Ah, apologies.”

“Let me know if you’d like to talk, Reyna,” Wylan said. “I’m … doubting some things. It’d be nice to speak with someone who isn’t a priestess.”

That actually sounded helpful. Reyna breathed a sigh. “I will. But for now, the ceremony. We’ll acknowledge the Gods, but even Her Excellency wouldn’t imply we’re blasphemous if a blood ceremony diminishes Kianthe’s power.”

“Blood what now?” Kianthe balked.

Reyna patted her arm, moving on smoothly. “A moment of silence for the Gods and their blessings, I think. As long as we acknowledge it in the ceremony, the lords who attend will have plausible deniability.”

Lord Wylan nodded. “That’s an appropriate middle ground. Especially if Queen Tilaine arrives on schedule; her presence alone will pay respects.” A glance at Marlow to ensure they weren’t near enough to eavesdrop. “At least, for a time.”

Feo glanced at Reyna. “Tessalyn told us everything last night. For what it’s worth, the council would be delighted to have you on the throne.” Now a wicked smile crossed their lips. “At least, they will be once I’m done singing your praises.”

“Aww, you’d sing her praises?” Kianthe drawled, grinning. She’d moseyed over to the archway they’d erected above the dais, testing the strength of the wood.

Feo stretched their arms over their head, cheeks coloring. “Well. You two are the reason I have a seat on the council. Never say I forget my friends.”

“Favoritism at its finest,” Reyna murmured.

Kianthe scoffed. “Rain. Remember that conversation we had last year about you earning everything—and how sometimes, it’s just being the right person at the right time? Feo’s met a lot of people. They wouldn’t vouch for most of them.”

“That’s true,” Wylan said grudgingly.

Feo shrugged. “Very true. Most people are awful.”

Reyna glanced at Wylan. “And what of you? Do you truly believe, out of every option, I’m the best fit?”

“I think Tessalyn is the best fit. But aside from her, you’re a very solid second.” Wylan noticed her grimace and patted her back, his tone empathetic. “Reyna. If you think I haven’t questioned why my family deserved Tawney, you’re not paying attention. That’s why I hated Feo so much—they claimed a space I felt was mine by birthright, and it opened some uncomfortable doors.”

Feo smirked. “You needed to be uncomfortable.”

“I did. And I probably still do.” Wylan offered Feo an almost-fond smile.

“Okay, lovebirds.” Kianthe rolled her eyes.

Wylan cleared his throat. “We’re not—”

Kianthe grinned wider.

“Ah, the point is”—Wylan purposefully ignored her—“I still do the best I can for Tawney. Sometimes, our best is stepping down from a position, or moving aside to let another stand beside us. Sometimes, though … it’s stepping up to fill a position the Realm needs.”

Reyna considered that. It was possible she was resisting because she didn’t feel worthy of taking control, but the continuing votes of confidence were … inspiring, to say the least. If everyone around her felt that she’d be a good fit, maybe they were right.

And maybe it didn’t have to be forever. If Tessalyn worked on establishing a council-like group for the Queendom, Reyna could manage things until the country felt stable, then relinquish the crown.

That calmed her racing heart, actually. Knowing there would be trusted folk checking her ruling style, her grasp of power—and working to ensure she wouldn’t always be leading.

A shared burden.

Stepping up.

“Besides,” Kianthe drawled. “Anything’s better than Tilaine.”

The stark contrast made Reyna snort in laughter. “Thank you, dearest, for keeping things in perspective.”

“Sure thing.” Kianthe winked.

18

Kianthe

Reyna’s wedding gift was a problem.

After all, it was embarrassing that Reyna had already finished hers. The greenhouse was stunning … and that delivery, right in front of Kianthe’s parents? Incredible. Kianthe hadn’t seen her mother since that night, but based on Elysia’s comments as they left the greenhouse, she was wholly impressed.

Which meant Kianthe really needed to step up her game.

Reyna returned to New Leaf to help measure out teas for the ceremony, and Kianthe diverged to “make sure Matild didn’t need more magical help.” Once Reyna had retreated inside their barn, Kianthe jogged to Tarly instead.

He’d left the carpenter and was speaking to James in low tones as they inspected a chair with a wobbly leg. Kianthe glanced around, but Tessalyn was across the clearing chatting with Patol, the beekeeper.

Impressive that James let her stray so far, especially considering all the pirates working in the clearing. They must be starting to warm up to the Tawney crowds. That alone sent a swell of satisfaction into Kianthe’s chest.

She waved at James, then addressed Tarly. “Okay, mister blacksmith.” She didn’t bother hiding her desperation. “Give me an update. Because my partner is without a sword, and it’s making her sparring sessions with James pretty damn sad.”

“What?” James swelled in indignation. “They’re good sessions! I’m fighting for my life out there.”

“And she’s barely working up a sweat.” Kianthe rolled her eyes.

James’s brow furrowed. “She’s—oh, come on. She’s holding back?”

“The fact that you didn’t recognize it tells me everything I need to know.” Kianthe clapped his shoulder in commiseration. “Be glad you’re a better swordsman than Gossley. She had to dull a practice blade for him, just for safety purposes.”

“Isn’t Gossley a kid?”

“Well, don’t tell him that.”

“Great,” James grumbled, kneeling beside the chair again.

Tarly straightened, rolling his shoulders. “It’s almost done. But I think we messed up a few days ago. She came into the shop to check on progress and saw Gossley and me working on it.”

Kianthe stiffened, clawing her messy hair. “What? By the Stone of Seeing—we had one job here: keep the sword a secret from Reyna. Do you know how sneaky I had to be when I broke her old one?”

“Yeah, I don’t think you were as subtle as you hoped,” Tarly drawled. “Nothing about that break was natural. Reyna would have noticed earlier. She probably knows you’re talking to me now, honestly.”

Kianthe glared at Tarly, then at James, then at Tarly again—just for good measure. But after a moment, she deflated. “See, this is the problem with dating a retired Queensguard. Don’t become a Queensguard, James. They ruin everything.”

“I suspect I missed that boat regardless,” James said good-naturedly.

Tarly glanced at New Leaf, checked for Matild, then subtly motioned for Kianthe to follow him into town. James stood awkwardly, waiting for a cue. Tarly noticed, puffed an amused sigh, and said, “Well, come on then. You can get a peek at what she’ll be sparring with next time.”

James opened his mouth to object, but his eyes caught the chair with the wobbly leg, the wedding preparations as a whole. Anything must seem better. He trailed behind as they headed back into Tawney.

Tarly, meanwhile, said, “Look, it’ll still be a good gift. But meteorite is tricky to work with; it’s not as strong as it should be. I tested a piece and it fractured under stress. I wanted to figure out a way to strengthen the material before casting it.”

“It’s metal from the Stars themselves, a sister piece to the Stone of Seeing.” Kianthe kept the indignation from her voice. “How is it weaker than normal steel or iron?”

“I didn’t say weaker. It depends on how the blade is made. The original composition was purer than earth iron—which meant I had to forge weld it dozens of times with more reasonable materials before it could hold an edge.” Tarly rolled his shoulders. “Not easy work.”

They’d reached town now, and took the most direct path to Tarly’s smithy. It had a sign on the front that advised CLOSED, and a secondary plank painted sloppily with GO HELP WITH THE WEDDING tacked underneath it.

Tarly chuckled. “Figured we’d need all the hands we could get. And those pirates keep placing orders for sword repairs. The Dastardly Pirate Dreggs themself came to my door asking if I’ve ever considered a mobile forge.”

“Fire on a ship sounds like a bad idea,” James commented.

Tarly tapped his nose. “Exactly what I said.”

“Probably best to keep Matild off Dreggs’s ship anyway,” Kianthe drawled.

Tarly unlocked the shop and let them inside. The forge was dark, but light still filtered through the windows. “Oh, Matild invited Dreggs to dinner instead. She’s so excited to host. Anyway, behold—the most difficult sword I’ve ever made. May I never have to attempt another.”

A single sword sat on an anvil in the back of the shop, and it was stunning.

The meteorite steel was a deep, almost magical gray, and it looked absolutely deadly. Tarly hadn’t changed the dimensions of Reyna’s old weapon—it was still a Queensguard sword, long and thin, but the pommel had an ornate guard to protect her hand. And best of all, it lacked Queen Tilaine’s family insignia.

It was all Reyna’s now.

“It’s amazing, Tarly,” Kianthe breathed. She trailed her fingers along it, testing the edge. “What’s left to do?”

“Sharpen it.” Tarly sounded pleased, his chest swelling. He plucked it off the anvil, demonstrating its heft. “But I’ll take my time with that. Want to hold it?” And he handed the blade to Kianthe.

She gingerly took the handle, and a swell of genuine magic pushed through her fingertips. A chill washed up her arms, pebbling her skin. Any mage would be able to feel the power from this blade; it held a connection to the Stars and the Stone of Seeing, and Kianthe couldn’t think of any better way to protect Reyna.

One of a kind, just like her partner.

“What do you think?” Tarly asked.

Kianthe bounced on her toes. “It’s perfect.” She handed it to James, kept a close eye in case he felt the magic too. But he was as non-magical as Reyna, and merely whistled at the craftsmanship.

“Wow. Where’d you get the meteorite?” He flipped the blade around, slid into a sword-fighting stance, and swung it a few times in a smooth arc. His eyes were alight as he tested the tip of the blade, rubbed the leather wrapped tightly around the hilt.

“It wasn’t easy.” Kianthe grimaced. “Even for the Arcandor, it’s nearly impossible to buy. I had to get council permission to visit the Sheparan Archives in Wellia, and traded a precious artifact for it.”

James blinked. “What artifact did you give up?”

Now Kianthe tilted her eyes skyward, her tone innocent. “A very rare, very underutilized magical mug, one that steeps the best tea by pulling the magic from the leaves itself. The Magicary’s most prized possession, something I wasn’t even supposed to have, but … well. It somehow wound up in our cabinet at New Leaf.”

Tarly snorted. “Oh Gods, you pawned off one of your mugs?”

“It really was owned by an Arcandor.” Kianthe pressed a hand to her chest. “That makes it magical by default. Probably.”

James handed back the sword, swallowing a laugh. “You know, when Tess said we were seeking refuge with the Mage of Ages, I expected someone … a lot more boring.”

Kianthe swept into a bow. “That’s because my predecessors had no sense of fun.”

They wrapped up in the smithy, and Kianthe stretched as they stepped into the midday sunshine. Nice weather. Even the Stone of Seeing was nudging pleasant elements her way this week. “Okay, I have to get back to New Leaf. Reyna’s meeting my mother for a little one-on-one time, and someone needs to watch the shop.”

Tarly locked the door behind himself, then squinted toward the open field on the south side of town. “I guess we’ll be wrapping up. Hey, what are you two doing for your pre-wedding parties?”

“Uh—” Kianthe frowned. “Is that a Queendom thing?”

“Maybe? It’s a party, but separate from your spouse. One final night to live it up before you get married.” Tarly frowned, deep in thought. “I figured it was an all-over thing. A bunch of folk in town have thrown them before weddings, but maybe that is a Queendom influence.”

“So, we each get a party on the same night? Who attends?” Kianthe tilted her head, intrigued now.

“Well, your friends.”

Kianthe rocked back on her heels. “Reyna and I have the same friends. It’s you guys.”

That made Tarly hesitate. He cleared his throat. “Ah, I guess we can divide and conquer. A couple mages are coming into town, right? And James is almost a Queensguard—he might be close enough to Reyna’s old coworkers. Matild and I can bounce between the parties.”

“That sounds complicated. Why don’t we just throw one big party?”

James raised a tentative hand. “Ah, isn’t that already happening? The wedding?”

Kianthe groaned. “Stone be damned, I’m so ready for this week to be over. Why does anyone throw a wedding? They’re so complicated.”

“It’s usually for happily ever after,” Tarly said, but even he didn’t sound convinced. He started for the clearing south of town. “Think about it, and let us know if you’d like to try one. I’ll talk to Matild about options.” And with a wave, he was gone.

Kianthe started for New Leaf, but James cut her off. “Um, Arcandor?”

“Kianthe,” she replied. “By now, please tell me we’re on a first-name basis.”

James fidgeted. “It feels inappropriate, but—well, I guess this is too. You’re friends with Fauston, right? He mentioned you two knew each other as kids.”

His nervous tone was all too familiar. It reminded Kianthe of all the evenings she chatted with Bobbie on the Nacean River, watching in exasperation as the constable floundered over her oldest friend. Reyna was the one who adored matchmaking, but Kianthe had no problem poking at a presented opportunity.

Her lips tilted into a sly smirk. “Whyever are you curious about that, James?”

James drew a breath through his nose. “N-No reason. He just seems—ah, well, he invited me to dinner. And I’m not sure if I’m misreading—”

“He is attractive, isn’t he? All those muscles came from working on the farm. He isn’t afraid of hard labor. But he’s smart too; he’s talking of starting a business outside of Jallin. A true entrepreneur.” Kianthe had no idea if that was true, but it aligned with what Fauston had been discussing earlier that week.

James laughed nervously. “Ah—”

“And his jokes. I’m punny, but he’ll have a bunch of those wet noodles on the Leonolan board in hysterics before dessert, mark my words.”

It was one too many. James lowered his eyelids, clearly unamused. “Do you want to date him?”

Kianthe nearly choked on her own spit, she inhaled so fast. “Stars and Stone, no!” It dissolved into a coughing fit that had her laughing and crying all at once. A few townsfolk walking by noticed, shaking their heads. One of the pirates outside the inn raised his ale glass in amusement.

James rolled his eyes, reluctantly patted her back to help her clear her throat. “Look, it’s just dinner. He’s nice. And … I mean, I don’t know. I’ve spent a lot of time with Tessalyn, especially after my aunt—” He clenched his eyes shut, inhaled slowly. “It might be a nice distraction. I haven’t had a night just for me in a while.”

Kianthe swallowed, gasping for breath. She magicked some water out of the ground and tugged out the impurities, swirling it into a ball she could drink from her palm. It soothed the burning a bit, helped her talk without croaking. “You deserve that.”

James winced. “Maybe. But I shouldn’t leave Tess—”

“James.” Kianthe held his gaze, keeping her tone firm. She let the water fall back to the earth, dried her hand on her trousers. “You can’t protect Tessa from everything—and you can’t stop living in the meantime. She’s safe in Tawney. Enjoy a night for yourself.”

He drew a shaking breath, scuffing the dirt with his boot. “I’m not even sure how to go on a date. Last time I tried was three years ago.”

“Not a match?”

“I wasn’t … smart … enough.” James grimaced, then forced a pained smile. “It’s tough being a bad student in Leonol. All that mattered was learning to fight, to protect Tess, but that means I was basically the rotten fish of the dating pool.”

Kianthe scowled. “That’s bullshit. There are a lot of ways to succeed in life. If schooling were the only example, I’d be fucked—and yet, somehow, I still get invites to fancy parties.” She twirled a hand, showing off a swath of cheerful fire to prove her point.

James rubbed his arm. “Well, it was home. Things seem different here, though.” A note of optimism filtered into his voice. “It’s nice in Tawney. Tess is contemplating heading to Wellia before the wedding, just for safety, but I hope we get to stay here. I’d hate to miss that game night.”

Warmth filled Kianthe’s soul. “I hope you stay, too. Enjoy your night with Fauston, James. He’s one of the good ones—and for all I was talking him up, he’s a farmer, not a scholar. I think you’ll like him.”

“Thanks, Kianthe,” James said.

“Anytime.”

19

Reyna

Reyna prepared for afternoon tea with Elysia like she was preparing for battle. She wore a sundress like a shield, fixed her hair for function instead of form, and only removed her knives as an afterthought. Kianthe draped over the storage room’s countertop, one eyebrow raised in amusement.

“I highly doubt my mother can eat seventeen scones, Rain,” Kianthe drawled.

Reyna paused, contemplated her basket of treats, and gingerly set two more atop the pile. “I want her to have a variety. You were telling me about date night?”

“Fauston is taking James to the inn.” Kianthe shrugged. “I caught him outside the burnt section of town and pried him for information, but he’s being amusingly tight-lipped. Keeps calling it a friendly dinner.”

“I bet it’ll get friendly.” Reyna smirked. “Perhaps we can grab a drink after I meet your mother. Catch the tail end of the show.”

“My favorite kind of comedy,” Kianthe replied in amusement.

A moment of silence passed when Reyna stepped to their spare tea boxes. Several were already set aside for the wedding ceremony, but Reyna riffled through the upper boxes—cheap teas, easy tisane blends—to find the good stuff: rare medes flowers from the Roiling Isles.

Kianthe snorted. “My mother won’t know the difference between those and a black tea.”

“I want to make a good impression.” Reyna filled a metal tin with the leaves, sniffed the canister, and nodded resolutely. “It doesn’t matter if she recognizes it or not; she’s your mother. She deserves a lovely afternoon.”

Kianthe puffed a sigh. “You deserve a lovely afternoon. You shouldn’t have to feel like she deserves all this. She should love you by default.”

“No one loves anyone by default.” Reyna lifted her chin, covering her basket with a linen cloth. “Okay, I’m ready. How do I look?”

Kianthe appraised her, then stepped closer, wrapping her arms around Reyna’s waist. Her touch always felt grounding, and now her thumb traced circles on Reyna’s back. She smiled soft and slow. “You look like a dozen gold palidrons. No, a hundred.”

“Oh Gods,” Reyna laughed, pushing her away.

“It’s true.” Kianthe stole a quick kiss. She considered it, then dove in for a second. At the same time, her fingers tickled Reyna’s sides, causing her to laugh beneath Kianthe’s lips.

“Key!”

“Stunning.” Kianthe murmured the word against her mouth.

It made Reyna warm all over. She patted her cheeks to temper the flush. “You are impossible. Meet me at the inn for dinner, but be subtle about it. Try to get Tessalyn and Dreggs there. I bet they’ll enjoy spying—and they have some things to discuss.”

“Your wish is my command.” Kianthe plucked a scone off the tray, taking a bite.

Reyna shook her head and left.

She reached the greenhouse early, which was by design. Before Elysia arrived, Reyna busied herself with preparing a plate of finger sandwiches and scones, then heating water over a tiny flame.

All the while, Reyna talked herself up. “It’ll be fine,” she told the plants, the glass windows, the sun shining high above. “I’m a capable, confident woman. I can fight or lead or run a small business. I’m a catch.”

The flowers seemed to bob approval.

Or maybe Reyna was just imagining things.

“And it doesn’t matter if Elysia doesn’t like me,” Reyna said quietly, after a long moment of silence. “Because I like myself. Her opinion of me hardly matters—except that she’s Kianthe’s mother, and that we’ll be seeing each other for holidays and special occasions, and when we have children, Gods forbid their grandparents aren’t around because she hates me—”

Reyna stopped herself, staring at the tiny jar of honey she’d set out on the greenhouse’s singular table. Beside the empty mugs and the warming copper kettle, a luscious fern was inching toward her hand, almost like a comforting embrace.

The plants in New Leaf acted this way sometimes—anything around Kianthe tended to absorb her magic, but she’d clearly poured something into this space the minute she was gifted it. Reyna hadn’t expected the foliage to be listening.

“Sorry. I’m just … nervous, I guess.” Reyna laughed. “I wish I’d met her a long time ago.”

The fern seemed sympathetic.

Or maybe it just needed water.

A scuff of footsteps, and a knock on the greenhouse door. Elysia had arrived—and she carried a basket eerily similar to Reyna’s. Through the open greenhouse windows, she called, “Am I allowed to come in?”

“Ah, yes! Of course.” Reyna smoothed her sundress, offered the fern a grateful smile, and admitted Kianthe’s mother. Act perfect. Be the charming daughter-in-law. If there was one thing Reyna excelled at, it was maintaining appearances. “It’s such a pleasure to host you, Elysia.”

“I’m so pleased to be here.” A weighted pause as Elysia pushed a stray curl behind her ear. “I do want to apologize for how I’ve acted in the past. That was not my best form, and I’m afraid there’s no excuse for it.”

Well, that was a start.

“I appreciate it.” Reyna led Elysia to the table and chairs, offering the older woman a seat. “I’m grateful that Kianthe has parents advocating for her … but I do hope we can find some common ground.”

“Oh, yes,” Elysia said, overly polite. She took a seat, then glanced at the scones. “Ah, I’m afraid I brought scones as well. Janice, your baker, offered her kitchen. I figured they’d be a good option for afternoon tea. Perhaps we should do a swap?”

“Delightful,” Reyna said.

They exchanged scones, and Reyna carefully poured the cups of tea. As the leaves steeped, Reyna took the seat across from Elysia, hands clasped in her lap.

Neither woman started a conversation.

Reyna racked her brain, but suddenly all pretense failed. Any optimal conversation slipped away, oil sliding over water. She wanted to like Kianthe’s mother in theory, but this woman was a stranger—someone who’d been borderline hostile toward her before they’d even met.

It wasn’t that Reyna felt her reputation would precede her, but she at least expected the benefit of the doubt.

Facing Elysia now, hearing the apology, she figured she could slide into cool professionalism. It had been her mask for so long, after all; it was second nature in most situations. But Elysia tilted her head, awkwardly silent, and Reyna’s mind went blank.

Not “coolly professional” blank. Actually empty.

Shit.

“Ah.” Reyna cleared her throat, scrambling for something to say. She lifted the linen bags from both mugs, pressing a spoon against the bag to drain the leaves of water. “This tea is a rare import from the Roiling Islands. The—”

“—medes flower,” Elysia finished. She’d gone somewhat pale. “I’m allergic.”

Fuck.

Reyna scrambled to recover. “Oh, Gods, let me get rid of this, then. Kianthe didn’t mention—well, I suppose she might not remember.” Reyna hefted both mugs outside, dumping her carefully prepared tea into the dirt. The greenhouse door swung closed behind her, and reopening it from the outside was a feat with two ceramic mugs in her hands. Reyna juggled it, dancing inside. “I’m so sorry, Elysia. Is—is there anything else you’d like to try?”

“I don’t think it’d be wise to use that mug, personally.” Elysia settled back in her seat, patting her cheeks.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. I don’t need anything.”

Humiliation curdled in Reyna’s chest. “The scones will be awfully dry without tea. How about I clean this out and make you something fresh? I planted some mint in here.”

“Mint, in the greenhouse?” Now alarm flashed across Elysia’s face. “Ah, dear, you may want to transplant that into its own pot. It will overtake that entire flowerbed.”

Reyna balked, glancing again at the plant, feeling even more stupid. “Oh, ah—”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Elysia said quickly. “Kianthe probably noticed. I’m sure she told it to stay in its place, or something magical like that. In fact, I’d love some mint tea. It’s one of my favorites.”

Okay. Sure.

Reyna whispered a prayer—to the Gods, the Stars, hells, even the Stone of Seeing—and stepped to the piped water she’d installed for watering the plants. Kianthe wouldn’t use it, of course, but if she was traveling on business, Reyna would have to keep her greenhouse alive … somehow.

“Ah, speaking of Kianthe, she created an ever-plant spell. Did you know that?” Reyna kept up the conversation as she scrubbed the mugs, seizing the thought before it could fade into awkward silence again. At least now they were socializing. “A plant that never dies, nourished by a perpetual spell of magic. It’s been quite popular here in Tawney; several of the older community members have taken advantage.”

“Did she spell this greenhouse?” Elysia glanced at the plants nearby, tapping one of the fern’s long leaves.

“No. She spells the plants in New Leaf Tomes and Tea when she travels, but removes it when she’s home.” Reyna smiled warmly, thinking of her partner traipsing around the shop admiring their foliage. “She likes to enjoy their natural life cycles otherwise.”

Elysia chuckled. “So, you’re saying she spells the leaves … when she leaves…?”

A pun.

Reyna stopped short, the mug dripping in her hands. “Oh, Gods. You’re where she gets it from.”

She hadn’t meant to say that out loud, and certainly not with that tone, but it seemed to delight Elysia. “Actually, she gets that from my husband. But spend enough time around it, and … well. The puns just start appearing.” She pushed to her feet, meandering along the plants while Reyna finished drying the outside of their mugs and moved to refill the copper kettle. “For example, is it mint tea … or minty? Magnus and Kianthe would debate for hours.”

“A true conundrum.” Reyna laughed.

The oppressive air lifted, and even the warmth of the greenhouse felt comforting now, like a hug on a cold day.

Elysia paused at the mint plant, then carefully harvested some of its leaves for their tea. “I should have mentioned the medes allergy. It wasn’t anything Kianthe could have known; I wasn’t aware of it myself until Magnus took me to the Roiling Islands on vacation.”

“What are they like? The islands?” Reyna had never been there.

“Well, they’re gorgeous. Incredibly tall mountains, large open fields of grass, a stunning forest.” Elysia shrugged, keeping the leaves in one open palm. “But getting there … that was tricky. Did you know where they get the name?”

Reyna tilted her head. “No.”

“Some of the islands are so close together that there’s only one safe route in or out. Everything else hides rocks that will scrape the underbelly of a ship. They call them ‘roiling’ because the water looks like it’s churning at low tide.”

Huh. Ponder could be ridden in another two seasons. Once she was old enough, perhaps Kianthe and Reyna could take a trip to the islands. From the air, those dangerous passes must be a true sight.

Maybe, if today went well, they’d even stop by Jallin for a visit.

She kept that thought to herself; best not to promise anything yet.

The pair reconvened at the table—Reyna with clean mugs and a full kettle, and Elysia with the mint leaves. While the water heated, they settled into their seats again, but this time the atmosphere felt friendly.

“What did you do on the islands?” Reyna asked. She was half-curious if Elysia had heard of the odd alchemist Dreggs had visited for their, ah, new additions. But of course, that was hardly appropriate to ask.

Elysia waved a hand, clearly delighted by the topic.

“Oh, a little of this and that. Magnus loves to hike, but I don’t think he expected the altitude change. The plains north of Jallin are a far cry from those mountains.” Elysia hesitated, then asked, “Does Kianthe still enjoy hiking? She always loved going with him as a child.”

Reyna snorted. “Hiking for an elemental mage is a different experience. She spells the air to keep away the bugs, and the terrain flattens around her. If she’s tired, the earth moves to ease her footsteps and soothe her joints. So, if you ask her, she’d emphatically say yes, but from my perspective, that’s not hiking.”

“Oh, Stars. Magnus would kill for that.”

Reyna took her proffered mint leaves, tearing them before bundling them into new linen bags from the basket. “I’m sure. But even hiking is still better than camping with her. The dirt literally softens like a mattress under her hips and shoulders, but she’s never muddy when she gets up. Talk about infuriating.”

“The nights by the fire must be lovely, though.” Elysia gently reached for an ever-flame drifting overhead, swallowing a gasp when her finger scattered the flame. She inspected it like it might have burned—but of course, it hadn’t.

Reyna thought back to the night she and Kianthe rested beneath a pinyon pine, discussing their future in Tawney, and smiled as she poured newly hot water into the mugs. “It is lovely.” She paused, swallowed, and offered a moment of vulnerability. “Elysia, your daughter is one of the greatest things that has ever happened to me.”

Maybe the single best, but that felt too big to say out loud.

Elysia’s brow knitted at the emotion in Reyna’s voice. For a moment, she just rubbed a finger along the rim of her mug, lifting the bag of mint leaves in an almost rhythmic fashion.

“I was so worried when the Stone of Seeing blessed her. She’s always relied on those around her, but after she became the Arcandor, she mentioned her friends drifting away in her letters. We tried to be encouraging, but … well, eventually her letters stopped coming.”

“She didn’t mean to—”

“I know. We know.” Elysia chuckled sadly, staring at the tea. “I suppose we’d laid it on too thick. She said she didn’t want to disappoint us, but I just wanted to remind her we were there.”

Ah.

Reyna dipped a spoon into the honey, then stirred it into her own mug. Her heart physically hurt, thinking of Kianthe—barely out of her teenage years—sleeping on Visk because she felt so alone. Everyone viewed the Arcandor as confident, the powerful Mage of Ages, but Kianthe spent most of that time deeply wishing she didn’t have magic.

“I don’t think it’s anything you did.” Reyna broke off a piece of her scone, taking a contemplative bite. Elysia had mixed in cinnamon and a hint of cacao, and flavor spread across her tongue. She wasn’t expecting these scones to be so good. “Kianthe went through years of befriending folks and … getting burned, figuratively speaking.”

Elysia winced, testing her tea with a careful sip. “That’s what worried us.”

Understandable, honestly.

The woman paused, meeting Reyna’s gaze. “I’m very glad she met you. We weren’t sure what to expect, but you’ve clearly had a positive influence on our daughter. I’m truly sorry that I acted as I did when we first arrived.”

Her earlier apology was nice, but there was something magical about hearing the words “I’m sorry” from someone. The tension that had knotted in Reyna’s chest eased.

Maybe they could be family someday.

“It’s fine.” Reyna lifted her scone. “This is fantastic. Any chance I could swipe the recipe off you? I’d love to stock it in New Leaf.”

“Stalk it?” Elysia said impulsively, then gasped. “Stars above, it’s impossible to stop. Magnus, you bastard.”

Reyna snorted, covering her mouth to hide her laughter. “That one barely made sense.”

“Oh, hush. Stalk? Like the stalk of a plant? New Leaf?” Elysia puffed up the more Reyna laughed. “It’s a perfect pun!”

“It’s something,” Reyna replied. They fell into eating and sipping their tea, and after a long moment, Reyna breathed a sigh. “I’m … glad Kianthe reconnected, and I’m very glad you made the trip here. One of us should have someone to walk her down the aisle.”

Elysia lifted her gaze, her lips tilting downward. “You don’t have any family attending?”

“My mother died when I was a teenager, and my uncle followed a few years back. Kianthe is my only family now.” Reyna traced the rim of her mug, then picked off another bite of the scone. “And you, if you’ll have me.”

“Oh, darling.” Elysia pushed up and rounded the table. Her arms swept around Reyna’s shoulders, pulling her into a firm hug. It was both comforting and terrifying, and Reyna stiffened under the touch.

Luckily, Elysia didn’t linger. She squeezed Reyna’s shoulder, lifted her chin. “You always have a family with us. Magnus was hoping to escort Kianthe, but of course, he wanted to check with her first. If you’d like, I’d be happy to walk you down the aisle.”

It was such a generous offer that tears pricked Reyna’s eyes.

It also vividly made her think of her own mother, the beautiful, fearsome woman who’d raised her with poise and dignity. She’d been gone a long time, but suddenly, Reyna grieved the moments her mother would never see.

Kianthe.

The wedding.

Children.

And maybe more, if she actually agreed to the throne.

The reality of it settled like a lump in Reyna’s throat, choking her. She’d always felt coolly disconnected from her mother’s death, comforted by the fact that her mother died fulfilling the highest order of duty: protecting Queen Eren.

Once Reyna abandoned the Queensguard, she tried not to think of her mother at all.

But whenever Reyna imagined the wedding, she’d been alone. Alone walking down the aisle. Alone standing by the altar. Alone right until the moment Kianthe approached, and then she’d never be alone again.

But maybe those days had already passed.

“Thank you,” Reyna whispered. “I’d be honored.”

Elysia hugged her again, and this time, Reyna hugged back.

“Welcome to the family, Reyna,” her mother-in-law said.

And Reyna laughed and cried, all at once.

20

Kianthe

Whatever happened with Kianthe’s mother and Reyna, it was clearly emotional.

Even in the dim lighting of the inn, Kianthe noticed the red rimming her eyes. The inn was busy enough that Kianthe pushing to her feet didn’t gather interest, but quiet enough that Kianthe kept her voice low to avoid suspicion. “Did my mother make you cry?” She didn’t mask the irritation filtering into her tone.

At Kianthe’s side, Dreggs whistled, soft and low. “I’m sensing drama,” they murmured to Tessa.

She snorted into her wine.

“As sweet as your frustration is, it’s unfounded.” Reyna offered Kianthe a swift kiss, then took a seat beside her. “Your mother was lovely, and we had an excellent conversation. I’m actually very glad I went.”

She wasn’t crying now, so Kianthe was inclined to believe her. The fire in her chest faded as she settled back into the wooden chair. “Oh. Well, um. Good.” Suspicion had her eyebrows furrowing. “What did you talk about? Was it me?”

Reyna patted Kianthe’s arm. “Of course it was you, love. She’s your mother.”

“Shit. All compliments, I presume.”

“Naturally. We raved about your hair, your personality, your sense of humor—”

Kianthe groaned, burying her head in her hands. “Okay, I get it.”

Dreggs cleared their throat, tapping the table with one finger. “As riveting as this conversation is, I was told we were here to spy on young James.” They’d opted out of any identifiers tonight—no lavish captain’s jacket, a modest shirt to cover their breasts, nothing shiny that might attract attention—but considering their infamy, a few Tawney locals were still cutting curious glances at their table.

It didn’t help that their pirates kept waving at Dreggs.

So sneaky.

“I admit, I’m a bit confused about why you’re here to spy on James. I didn’t think you cared about him that much.” Tessa had set herself up for perfect viewing territory, and now she cast a suspicious glance at Dreggs.

Maybe this was it: the news of a lifetime. Kianthe held her breath.

Reyna, however, seemed far more concerned with securing a glass of wine than any discussions about parental heritage. She flagged down Hansen as he delivered pints to a table of pirates and called, “Did Matild leave her jug?”

“I’m gonna start charging you for the glass,” Hansen joked.

Reyna grinned. “It’s my wedding week.” A pause, a haphazard arm around Kianthe. “Ah, our wedding week.”

“Thanks, love.” Kianthe snorted.

Hansen waved a hand. “Fine, fine. But if you want to keep using outside stock, bring enough for my wife next time.” He strolled back to the bar.

Reyna settled back in her seat, satisfied.

Dreggs smirked. “Shout more. James might not have heard you.” The pirate captain raised their own pint at the man in question. Fauston wasn’t here yet, so James was sitting alone at a table across the inn’s tavern, sipping a mystery beverage. He looked adorably awkward, perched all alone.

Well, it was adorably awkward. Hearing his name, he craned to look over his shoulder—and noticed the four of them staring. James flushed deeply and scrubbed his face, cast a nervous glance at the inn’s door, and waved aggressively at them.

It wasn’t a hello wave. It was a get the hells out of here wave.

Kianthe cheerfully waved back.

“He doesn’t seem pleased we’re here,” Reyna remarked. “You two really should have been more subtle.”

Tessalyn rolled her eyes. Meanwhile, Dreggs tapped the table. “Pardon? We were sitting here quietly—”

“—about to have a conversation? One that you’ve been putting off?” Reyna drawled.

Dreggs crossed their arms almost petulantly. “Sneaky.”

“Well, I do have a reputation.” Reyna accepted the glass Hansen offered, then lifted it in a salute to James, who was still glaring daggers at them. “Should we feel bad about spying now that he knows we’re here?”

Tessa shrugged. “It’s hardly a secret. He said, ‘I’m going to meet Fauston tonight,’ and I said, ‘Great. I’ll watch with Kianthe.’ And when he looked like he wanted to kill me, I told him ‘safety first,’ and he didn’t have an argument for that.” Tessa nodded at Dreggs. “The captain was a surprise.”

“Such a surprise,” Kianthe said, offering a weighted look at Dreggs. “I definitely didn’t invite them for a reason.”

Dreggs ignored her, taking a self-satisfying sip of his ale. “That has a nice ring. From now on, I’d like everyone to call me the captain.”

Tessalyn snorted. “I bet you would.”

Her familiar tone, her relaxed posture, watching Dreggs beam with pride as they shared a drink—it was almost painful to watch, knowing the entire story. Kianthe bounced on her seat, glancing helplessly at Reyna.

Her partner took the cue, drawing a deep swig of her wine. “I’m so glad you two are bonding.”

Dreggs’s eyebrow quirked upward. They muttered, “Stars, I’m getting to it.”

That elicited suspicion in Tessalyn. She squinted between the other three occupants at the table, then glanced at Dreggs. “Am I missing something?”

But there was an undercurrent in her voice Kianthe hadn’t heard before—something that sounded almost like … hope. The lost heir pulled her hair out of her eyes, leaning back in her chair, waiting for Dreggs to respond.

All conversation died while Reyna and Kianthe stared between them.

Finally, Dreggs narrowed their eyes. “You two are meddling where you don’t belong.”

“And she deserves to know.” Reyna met their tone, one eyebrow lifted in challenge. “I never figured the Dastardly Pirate Dreggs for a coward, but I’m revising my impression.”

“Ouch.” Dreggs didn’t seem at all fazed by that.

Tessalyn, meanwhile, drew another pointed sip of her ale. “Might as well just say it, Dreggs. I already know.”

That seemed to make Dreggs pause. “You know?” They racked their brain and muttered a curse. “You heard Mister Mom after all. That first day on our ship. I knew you were eavesdropping.”

“Your quartermaster is not subtle.” Tessalyn chuckled, then lowered her gaze to the table. “Aunt Victoria used to say I was as ‘wild as a pirate.’ And you visited Natilau a few times—I definitely saw you. You tend to draw a crowd.”

“Well, can you blame them?” Dreggs straightened with a flourish, puffing out their chest.

Tessalyn snorted. “Not quite. But after the third time, I really thought you were a spy sent by Tilaine. Then I boarded the Painted Death and heard Mister Mom, and everything suddenly made sense. I think I just … wanted to hear it from you. My ever-elusive second parent.”

At the verbal confirmation, Dreggs flushed. They suddenly seemed too embarrassed to speak. Reyna offered a single raised eyebrow. Kianthe motioned for them to get on with it, and on their encouragement, Dreggs forced out, “Y-Yep. That’s me. Surprise?”

With a soft smile, Tessalyn patted their arm. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, ah—Dad? Mom? MaPa? What would you like me to call you?”

“Call me … the captain.” Dreggs grinned.

“Stars,” Tessalyn grumbled.

They both went back to drinking.

Kianthe looked between them, then tossed up her hands. “Oh, come on. That’s it? Where’s the big reveal? I wanted streamers. Fireworks. A huge profession of love.”

“Look, I did what you wanted. And now I’d like to drink with my daughter.” Dreggs lifted their mug, and Tessalyn lifted hers, and they clinked the ceramic together.

It was cute.

It still wasn’t enough. Kianthe spluttered. “Oh no. My parents came into town, and it threw our entire week into disarray. And I know who they are. This should be a huge, shocking confession for you, Dreggs, and it should absolutely ruin you, Tessa. Where’s the drama?”

Reyna chuckled, resting a hand on Kianthe’s arm. “Dearest, there’s no rule book for something like this. I just wanted Tessalyn to hear it from Dreggs—but what happens now isn’t up to us.”

“Again, it’s not really news.” Tessalyn shrugged. “Obviously, I speculated about the other half of my parentage. After hearing Mister Mom on the ship, and Reyna saying that I’d be safe in Dreggs’s fleet—ah, sorry, the captain’s fleet”—she swallowed a laugh as Dreggs swelled in pride, then continued—“well, it’s good to know. This doesn’t change who I am. But it’s nice.”

“And I’m going to adopt James,” Dreggs said solemnly.

Kianthe balked. “What? Legally?”

“No.” Dreggs laughed loudly, garnering half the inn’s attention. During all this, James must have realized they were all talking, ignoring him, because he’d resumed nervously staring at the inn’s door. Hearing Dreggs’s laugh, James scowled at their table yet again.

This time, everyone waved, not just Kianthe.

“Look, I adopt a lot of kids. Any of the children in my fleet are mine to protect.” Dreggs raised their glass, a ferocious smile on their lips now. “Some of them are a little older, but they’re always safe with me. It’s exciting to have two more.” Dreggs cast a knowing look at Reyna. “Thanks for poking. Not that I wouldn’t have said something eventually, but still.”

Reyna inclined her head. “We all need a push to be brave sometimes.”

Tessalyn drew another sip of ale. “I’m somewhat flattered that I’m the one who scared the Dastardly Pirate Dreggs into silence. I didn’t realize I was so intimidating.” Before Dreggs could insert an indignant reply, Tessa gestured at her best friend. “Why do I feel like Fauston is standing James up?”

“Maybe James came early,” Kianthe said.

But when Tessalyn opened her mouth to reply, a swell of shouts erupted from the windows and spread like a tidal wave through the tavern. With barely a glance, Reyna and Kianthe had pushed to their feet and sprinted for the door, bracing themselves—

—only to see a dragon lounging in the town square.

Pill Bug, to be precise.

The huge, silvery creature was perched on the town well, a relic from the times before water was piped into every house. Still, the well had become something of an icon, and the old wood was fracturing under the dragon’s immense weight.

Overhead, Ponder screeched in warning. Gold Coin, ever at her side, roared approval, but Pill Bug ignored them both. In fact, the dragon was crouched on the well’s shingle roof like a cat on a shelf, tail swishing and wings flared as it stared at Fauston.

Fauston had a bouquet of rather ornate flowers—and looked like death. Any color in his face had drained, and he stood ramrod still in the center of the town square.

Reyna and Kianthe stopped at the inn’s doorway, assessing the scene.

“Huh. I expected more drama after shouts like that.” Kianthe relaxed, slipping her hands in her pockets. The days were mild, but it was early evening now, and that always came with a chill in Tawney. “Fauston, what did you do to the dragon?”

“I—I didn’t do anything! It’s not me,” Fauston spluttered. Even from here, the sweat dripping down his face shone in the pink sunset. He risked a glance at Kianthe, but his movement made Pill Bug shift its position, lowering its head menacingly.

Well, it looked menacing to someone unfamiliar with Pill Bug.

“I don’t know,” Kianthe drawled, having fun now. “You clearly pissed it off. It’s ready to maul you.”

“Oh my Gods.” Reyna’s tone straddled the line between exasperation and amusement. “Dear, this seems—”

“Shh. He’ll laugh about this later.”

“He will, or you will?”

Kianthe grinned. “Yes.”

Reyna rolled her eyes, leaning against the doorway. “Go on, then.”

Time to do her Arcandorly duty. Kianthe strode forward, lingering on the outskirts of the dragon’s attention. Shadows of Ponder and Gold Coin cut across the courtyard, but the griffon clearly wasn’t willing to land—lest she lead Gold Coin, the troublemaker, into this interaction.

Smart girl.

Pill Bug’s eyes never left the bouquet of flowers. It shifted position, causing the wood of the well to creak dangerously.

“What do I do?” Fauston hissed when Kianthe got close enough.

The rest of the townsfolk were watching with various levels of concern. On the one hand, many were still uneasy about the dragons. On the other hand, baby dragons were cute, and the Mage of Ages herself was intervening. Things must be fine.

Except Kianthe didn’t intervene. She just rocked back on her heels and said, ominously, “You’re in its sights. There’s nothing we can do … nothing but pick up the pieces, anyway.”

“What?” Fauston yelped. “Y-You can’t be serious.”

“This is the age when baby dragons get a taste for blood. It starts with interest in a human, and then they realize how easily their claws will slice—”

“Kianthe,” Reyna said, pushing away from the inn. Apparently, she was unsatisfied with Kianthe’s response.

And honestly, fair.

Kianthe burst into laughter—which seemed to disarm even Pill Bug, who spread its wings higher as its attention swiveled to her instead. It tilted its head curiously, rumbling a questioning growl.

But even that sounded terrifying.

A few of the townsfolk yelped, skittering away. Fauston hunched into himself, drawing a ragged gasp.

“You’re a terrible influence,” Reyna told Kianthe, seizing control with a few simple steps. She positioned herself between Pill Bug and Fauston, spreading her hands wide. Her voice was stern, the same tone she used when training Ponder as a hatchling. “Pill Bug. No. Not for you.”

The dragon straightened from its pouncing stance, folding its wings tightly against itself.

Chastised.

Overhead, Ponder screeched again. It sounded suspiciously like a griffon I told you so.

“Get off there. You’re going to break that.” Reyna gestured at the ground, and the dragon slunk off the well. It cast another interested glance at Fauston and the bouquet of flowers, but Reyna yet again cut off its line of sight. “Look at me, love.” When she’d regained the dragon’s attention, she stepped closer, giving it plenty of opportunity to fly away.

Pill Bug didn’t, because it was a cat in dragon form and loved affection. Reyna patted its shoulder, running her fingers along soft scales that would harden into a diamond’s edge in a few years. She slid her fingers under a few of them, scratching, and Pill Bug rumbled satisfaction, leaning so hard into her that she nearly stumbled.

“There’s a good dragon,” Reyna cooed, and in a rare moment of lost composure, she draped over Pill Bug like one might a large dog.

Kianthe swallowed a snort at Fauston’s expression of utter disbelief. She elbowed her old friend. “You were afraid of that thing.”

“It’s a dragon.” He scrambled to regain his composure, straightening his vest. The flowers were a little haphazard. “You said it had a taste for blood.”

“I lied.” Kianthe shrugged.

“You—” Fauston glared. “Very funny.”

Reyna had straightened again, lecturing now that Pill Bug knew it wasn’t in trouble. “Look, darling. You can’t have everything you want, and you’re big enough to scare people. Next time, I expect you to be mindful of your surroundings. There are plenty of bugs outside of town.”

“Bugs—?” Fauston squinted into the flowers.

“There’s a leaf bug on the side. Under the rose,” Reyna called over her shoulder. “That’s why it was so interested.”

The dragon trilled, assessed the crowd that had gathered, and then glanced at Reyna. Overhead, Ponder chittered, clearly calling Pill Bug back into the skies. Reyna patted its shoulder again, smiling warmly. “Go on. Back to fun.”

The dragon spread massive wings and took off. The gust of wind knocked Fauston’s flat cap off his head.

A few of the townsfolk—and several of the pirates—stared.

Reyna, meanwhile, clapped her hands with finality and strolled back to Kianthe. “You are no longer allowed to intervene in dragon business, dear.”

“But I’m the Arcandor.”

“And it’s a power you misuse every day.” Reyna moved back to the inn. “Come along, Fauston. Your date is waiting.”

“Ah—” Fauston stared at the two dragons cutting across the sky, then shook his head. “R-Right.” And he mopped his forehead with a sleeve, following her inside with his misshapen bouquet.

Kianthe chuckled, trailing after them.

Another day in Tawney.

21

Reyna

The next day passed in a whirlwind, a flurry of food tastings, meetings with Matild, entertaining, and general wedding preparations. One day before the wedding, a storm threatened to soak all the chairs the evening they were set up, and was met by a half-asleep Arcandor lunging onto the grassy field, snapping at the rain to land anywhere but the wood. After a few moments of petulant downpours in the neighboring fields, the storm clouds drifted north, apparently deciding Tawney was too much trouble.

Kianthe slept in after that, since changing the weather was something that required immense magical effort. Reyna sat with Matild in the early morning hours and said, “We couldn’t have put the chairs out the day of to avoid this problem?”

“I figured it’d be best to teach the weather a lesson before the ceremony.” Matild shrugged. “At least now she’s sleeping off the magic drain, rather than staggering through it on your big day.”

Reyna quirked an eyebrow. “I don’t think rain works like that, Matild.”

The midwife smirked. “Considering we’re usually deep into spring rains by this point, you could have fooled me.”

Eventually, Matild went back to Tarly, and Reyna busied herself with opening the shop. As she restocked the sugar jars on each table, humming under her breath, a heavy thump landed outside.

Reyna glanced at the double doors, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Ponder, keep them off the roof,” she called sternly, knowing her griffon could hear.

There was a shuffle, a low murmur of conversation, and Visk gave a warning peck on the glass window. Oh. Not the dragons, then. With a tired sigh, Reyna unbarred the double doors and pulled them open to reveal a bedraggled Bobbie and Serina.

Relief slid through Reyna’s veins. They’d made it back in time.

Both of them were covered in half-dried mud and the occasional leaf, with heavy bags under their eyes and an exhausted slump to their shoulders. Serina’s arms were covered in raised, irritated welts. Bobbie stood a bit straighter, but the moment Serina’s attention shifted to the interior of the shop, she sagged against the doorframe like a sack of flour.

Reyna frowned. “What in the hells happened to you two?”

“Leonol, for one.” Bobbie rolled her shoulders. “Finding evidence of a fight from a season ago in the jungle? Not easy. So, thanks for that scavenger hunt.”

Reyna ushered them in, gave Visk a fond pat and a dismissal, and closed the doors behind them. She didn’t even watch Kianthe’s griffon flying off—he was clearly just as done with that journey as his passengers.

Serina staggered into one of the armchairs, dropping into it with a heavy sigh. “Furniture. Flying is great, but a horse’s saddle is better. Even better than that? A boat. With a hammock and a relaxing river breeze.”

“What happened with the investigation?” Reyna pressed.

Bobbie glanced at the closed doors, then drew the curtains for good measure. “Well, Wylan filled us in on Tessalyn’s real identity, and we have bad news. Tilaine knows exactly who she is. We’re also nearly positive that your queen knows Tessalyn boarded the Painted Death and sailed here.”

Reyna winced. That was expected, but it was still painful to hear confirmation. She’d been hoping Tilaine would know about Tessalyn, but still be guessing on her actual location. “Then she’s heading this way.”

“Based on the huge royal procession we saw traveling north from the Capital? That is accurate.” Serina lifted a tired hand. “Hopefully you’re ready to entertain guests.”

They were prepared for this—really, Tilaine was right on time—but it still suddenly felt very real. And Reyna was still wavering on whether or not to even accept the throne during their coup. The walls pressed in, and she drew several deep breaths to ease her nerves.

Bobbie followed Reyna to the counter. “Where’s Kianthe?”

“Sleeping. Fill me in instead. Did you figure out who murdered Victoria?” Reyna tensed, waiting for a worst-case scenario—that they’d found proof a Queendom spy killed her, that Locke wasn’t loyal after all, that Tilaine was heading north for a massacre.

But the news was anything but.

“We believe it was a Queensguard.”

Reyna almost dropped her copper kettle. “What?” That didn’t make any sense.

“We found all the evidence.” Serina’s tone was challenging. “She’s right. It was definitely a Queensguard.”

“Probably a Queensguard,” Bobbie corrected, but the ex-constable looked grim, so the evidence must be damning.

Reyna parsed her thoughts, trying to find something intelligent to say. “But … it can’t be a Queensguard. Tilaine wouldn’t be so stupid to send an official representative of her throne into a foreign country to murder a local.”

Serina had decided this was more interesting than lounging in the furniture, and she hauled herself up to lean against one of the tables near the back counter. “Well, Victoria was a Queensguard too, wasn’t she? Hardly a local.”

“She’d lived there for decades. The Leonolan board of regents says that anyone living in Leonol, engaging with their society, is a citizen after five years. Even if her loyalties were to Queen Eren, she’d have been recognized as Leonolan.” Reyna pinched the bridge of her nose, one hand resting on the kettle. “I just—that’s an act of war.”

“The Queensguard she sent wasn’t subtle, either. Even a season later, we found evidence of Victoria’s final fight.” Bobbie frowned.

Good. Reyna needed more information. “What did you find?”

“Cuts in the trees and vegetation that had to be from a Queensguard sword—a longer blade, heavier and thinner than the machetes used by the locals. We thought maybe it was Victoria’s own blade, but then we found a scrap of cloth that matches the exact crimson dye of your old uniform.”

At that, Bobbie fished a red scrap from her pocket, pushing the cloth across the counter. It was slashed to ribbons, but there was no mistaking the heavier fabric used in Queensguard cloaks.

“She sent a Queensguard in uniform…” Reyna muttered. “Gods.”

“Queen Eren’s Queensguard dressed in green, correct? So, this has to belong to a current Queensguard—one of Tilaine’s.” Bobbie’s voice was hesitant now.

Reyna nodded. “That’s right. What else did you find?”

Serina groaned, sinking into one of the table’s chairs. “Isn’t that enough for you?”

“No,” Bobbie and Reyna said simultaneously.

Serina flapped a hand. “Stars, you two are too similar. I figured it was case closed at that point, and that we could grab one of those rum-coconut drinks on the way back here. But nooo, Bobbie insisted we get more, so we went to this tiny village nearby.” A sly smile tilted her lips. “It was sexy, watching Bobbie work.”

“I—you’re the one who interviewed the townsfolk,” Bobbie stammered, ducking her head.

“Listen, as much as I loved your generosity in gifting everyone we met a crocheted scarf, I was hot. Humidity is the worst.” Serina examined her arms, absently scratching the welts. “And those mosquitoes. Oh my Stars, remind me never to go that far south again. I thought the ones in Lathe were bad.”

“What did the interviews turn up?” Desperation tinged Reyna’s voice. She wanted to be calm and amused about this, but knowing Tilaine was so close, knowing Locke could be threatened—it had her chest tightening again. Her palms were slick.

This investigation could change everything.

“The townsfolk saw Victoria fleeing into the jungle. They said a man was pursuing her. Crimson cloak, long sword, with pauldrons carved in the visage of a dragon.” Serina quirked an eyebrow. “We told you. Super subtle.”

Victoria was being hunted. It wasn’t a mistake, or a wrong-place, wrong-time scenario. The Queensguard had honestly been sent across the border to kill her … and probably Tessalyn, if Victoria hadn’t led him away.

Bobbie lifted her chin. She wasn’t a constable in title anymore, but that life was hard to leave. “There’s more. The townsfolk had retrieved Victoria’s body, and James came to collect it soon after. But they found this clenched in her hand, and he had no idea.”

Bobbie reached into her satchel and produced a single golden amulet.

A Queensguard token, stamped with Tilaine’s crest.

“They meant to send it to the board, but they forgot. Bobbie offered to take it to Natilau, and since we had a griffon, they figured we were legit.” Amusement tilted Serina’s voice. “Plus, they thought her scarves were nice.”

Reyna took the token, turning it over. It was shining clean, so Bobbie must have already scrubbed it, looking for identifiers. But the Queensguard didn’t work like that—its members lost all individuality when they joined. The only thing on this token was Tilaine’s insignia.

Not Queen Eren’s. Tilaine’s.

“Victoria must have stolen this during the fight,” Reyna murmured. Just holding the token brought back fond memories, but they were tainted with blood now. She set the token on the counter.

There was no denying it. A current Queensguard had been hunting Victoria, another active Queensguard, in Leonol.

It was a betrayal of the highest order. Victoria hadn’t defected; she was following Queen Eren’s orders to the letter in protecting Tessalyn. To be killed at the petty whim of Tilaine … that was an overstep none of Reyna’s old cohorts would be able to stomach.

The thought made her sick.

And in that feeling, Reyna knew exactly what she needed to do.

Tilaine had overstepped in the most vicious way. All Queensguard, old and new, were united by experience. They were siblings in arms. And an unspoken directive was drilled into their heads from day one.

First, they protected the queen.

Then, they protected each other.

Which meant Tilaine had gone too far.

“Well. Now my decision is very easy.” Reyna was shocked at how steady her voice was. But a cold certainty had settled in her chest. One of her old friends had been given an order he couldn’t refuse. Reyna would make damn sure another would never be presented with the same directive.

The lack of a willing heir wouldn’t stop this coup.

Not now.

“Was there anything else?”

“We stopped by Natilau and found Victoria’s old house outside the university. It had been ransacked.” Bobbie set her jaw. “And all the professors were talking about how Tessalyn boarded a pirate ship. So, it’s safe to say Tilaine knows exactly where she went, and with whom.”

Wonderful.

Serina piped up: “I think it’s time you tell us what you’re planning, Reyna.”

She met their gazes squarely. “I agree.”

As she made tea, Reyna told them everything. Locke’s break-in earlier this year, how they tracked the heir, how they relocated Tessalyn just in time. When she finished, Serina’s jaw was hanging open, and Bobbie looked stunned.

“You planned it all?” Bobbie sank into the chair beside Serina. “Stars, do you ever stop?”

“Sometimes. On a rainy day, my mind quiets,” Reyna said, handing them both mugs of tea. She took the seat beside them, well aware that it was past time to open—and not caring in the slightest. Tawney could deal without its bookshop today.

Serina scowled. “Wait. So, there isn’t a wedding tomorrow? After all that?”

“There will be a wedding—but the purpose isn’t for Kianthe and myself. We knew Tilaine wouldn’t be able to resist a party for the Realm’s most powerful mage. Once she found out, she’d travel here. But she can’t take her soldiers from the Capital, not without risking an uprising. Which means she’d come here with an elite force of Queensguard.”

“It looked like a lot more than that marching north.” Bobbie frowned.

Reyna took a contemplative sip of tea. “That’s why we invited Dreggs. Their pirates are no strangers to bloodshed, and the captain is … especially invested … in Tessalyn’s well-being. They won’t let anything happen to her, or the townsfolk. Although I am still hoping this can be resolved without a fight.”

Bobbie seemed to pale. “Stars, me too. But Tilaine won’t step aside easily.”

“No,” Reyna agreed. “She won’t.”

The weight of that statement hung in the air.

Serina spooned two heaping scoops of sugar into her herbal blend. All her earlier shock had dissipated, and now she chuckled darkly. “Well, you know me. If I have a favorite pastime, it’s overthrowing terrible leaders.” She paused. “Although I worry about Tessalyn. She seemed nice, but … I don’t know. She’s still Eren’s kid.”

“Over the last week, she’s declined the position—which, if I’m being honest, is why we wanted her to have it in the first place.” Reyna sighed, suddenly feeling embarrassed. “I’m, ah … I’m the runner-up.”

Serina all but collapsed in a full-body sigh. “Oh, thank the Stars above. You’re a much better option. A fresh slate for the Queendom. I love this idea.”

Replacing a queen wouldn’t be as easy as replacing a diarn, but Reyna didn’t say that.

After all, Tilaine murdered a Queensguard on special assignment. She gleefully attempted to control the Arcandor through pointed manipulation. She perched atop a gilded throne while her citizens rioted in the streets.

The hardships were a necessity at this point.

“I agree,” a bleary voice came from the hallway. Kianthe had staggered out of bed, and now she yawned widely, clawing her shoulder-length hair off her face. “My beautiful wife will be a fabulous queen.”

“We’re not married yet, dear,” Reyna reminded her.

Kianthe shrugged a shoulder, stumbling to the cup of tea Reyna had prepared for her—but hadn’t filled with water yet. She absently poured hot water from the kettle. “Magic drain is the worst. Why can’t Tawney have a better ley line?” She paused, thinking about it. “Actually, dragon magic is the worst. Thank the Stone of Seeing that those baby dragons don’t cause problems for me yet.”

“Maybe you’re warming up to their magic.” Reyna tilted her head.

“Unlikely.” Kianthe leaned on the counter, blinking at Serina and Bobbie. “When did you two get back?”

Reyna pushed to her feet, leaving half her mug untouched. “You three catch up—Kianthe is going to want these details. In the meantime, I have to pay a visit to Dreggs … and then track down the queen’s spymaster.”

That was assuming Locke wanted to be found.

“Kianthe, we’re receiving a royal guest today. Prepare yourself accordingly.”

Kianthe glanced at her nightshirt, wrinkling her nose. “Ugh. I already hate this.”

Reyna pecked her cheek, then headed for the door. “Indeed. I’ll be back tonight. Thank you two for your investigation. The results will have a direct bearing on the most important event of the year … maybe even the century.”

“Well, damn.” Serina cast a quick glance at Bobbie and added, “I mean, despite the subject matter, it was a fun trip. Nice to spend some time together, just us.”

“It was,” Bobbie replied warmly.

Reyna smiled, satisfied their spat was resolved, and told Kianthe, “Please visit Tessalyn and James when you get the chance. They deserve to know what happened to Victoria.”

“Sure, once I know what, exactly, that is.” Kianthe waved a hand. “Go on. I’ll catch up.”

Right. Reyna ducked out the front door, locking it behind her, and then headed to Dreggs. If eyewitnesses had seen Tessalyn boarding the Painted Death, then something had to be done about their ship.

22

Kianthe

For the first time in her life, Kianthe didn’t dally. She didn’t stop to smell the flowers, tempting as they were. She didn’t bask in the sunshine, or the knowledge of Reyna’s love, or the fact that her parents would be walking them both down the aisle. A dragon flew overhead, and she didn’t even stop to gawk.

It was impressive, really. She was quite proud of herself. With satisfaction, she rang the ominous knocker on Lord Wylan’s huge door.

She didn’t have to wait long. Ralund swept onto the porch, bowed deeply, and intoned, “Arcandor. Everyone is waiting for you in the study.”

“How did everyone know I was coming?” She squinted suspiciously.

But Ralund merely stepped aside to allow her entry. “This way.” He gestured her inside, then resolutely closed the door behind her. The walk through the hallway was long and silent, and Kianthe hated silence.

“Do you ever get to spend time with your wife?” she asked Ralund.

He startled, which counted as a win in her book. “Every third evening and fourth morning of the week, yes.”

Kianthe balked. “Stone be damned. No wonder she’s in New Leaf all the time.”

A fond smile crossed Ralund’s face. “Oh, no. You misunderstand. My wife adores her independence and spends most of her free time researching in Lord Wylan’s library. She’s only in New Leaf when he’s working in his study. We see each other quite often—too often for her, at times.”

“Huh.” Kianthe shrugged. “Well, okay then.”

They paused at the lord’s portrait wall yet again, and this time Kianthe examined the wrinkles on Lord Wylan’s face. “He’s going to be a leathery old man someday, huh.”

Ralund pressed his lips together and kept his voice neutral. “I couldn’t say, Arcandor.” After another moment, he released her by yet again taking the lead to the study. He pulled open the doors with a deep bow.

“The Mage of Ages, my lord.”

Well, that answered who “everyone” was. Wylan, of course, and Tessalyn and James. But Locke, trench coat and all, was standing in broad daylight by a window overlooking the courtyard. It was like seeing a bat perched on a branch with a sparrow—out of place and disconcerting. In fact, none of them looked very happy.

Great. Another one of these days.

“Thank you, Ralund,” Wylan said evenly. “You may resume your post.”

Ralund bowed deeply again. Kianthe, meanwhile, strolled straight for the bookshelves. Best to grab something good before the drama started.

As the doors closed, offering privacy, Wylan heaved a sigh. “Kianthe, must you take books every time? I’m beginning to lose my supply.”

“Consider it my cover charge.” A pause. “Get it? Because books have covers?”

James snorted. Everyone else stared at her, deadpan.

Kianthe grinned, her eyes roaming the shelves lining the entire first floor of the room. “Besides, you have more books than we do at New Leaf. I’d say you should just open this library to the public, but honestly, it might put us out of business.”

Wylan’s tone was amused. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Kianthe plucked out a thick tome labeled The Sheparan Encyclopedia of Flora and Fauna. A reference book, but she knew its contents well enough to have written the pages herself. Could be fun to look for mistakes. And if not, the local kids could use it for a school project. She tucked it under her arm.

Tessalyn cleared her throat. “Ah, Locke is back.”

As if she hadn’t seen him.

Kianthe spun on her heels, playing up the shock. “Oh, there he is. Locke, I thought you were going to call my name this time.” Kianthe smirked as the spymaster rolled his eyes. “Reyna’s looking for you, by the way.”

“She isn’t traveling to Tilaine, I hope?” Locke crossed his arms.

Kianthe tapped the moonstone around her neck twice, then waited until she felt a warm tap back on her chest. “Not anymore. But even so, she’s on my griffon. Out of sight and out of reach.”

“Hmm.”

Kianthe plucked out a thinner book—an old fiction work she’d been meaning to read—and set her selections on the carpet in front of the hearth. She closed her eyes and inhaled, letting the breath pull her posture fully upright, letting a mask of cool confidence wipe away any jokes. “Before we get started, I’d like to speak with Locke a moment.”

This wasn’t Kianthe the bookseller talking. This was Kianthe the Arcandor, the Mage of Ages, whose requests held equal weight with rulers of nations. Everyone stilled, and Locke frowned imperceptibly.

“As you wish,” he replied, and followed her out the door.

Ralund had vanished to another part of the house, so they were alone in this hallway. For good measure, Kianthe escorted Locke around the corner—and when he leaned against the stone wall, it swallowed his arms, pinning him in place.

Alarm flashed across his features. “Ah, did I miss something, Arcandor?”

“You’re the spymaster.” Kianthe kept her distance, but the stone was unrelenting. He was trapped. She folded her arms, drumming her fingers on one elbow. “You tell me.” She was waiting for information on Victoria, but … it might be more productive to make him sweat.

He winced, tugging at his wrists. His breath quickened—Kianthe could feel it in the air around them, although he tried to hide it. “I’ve been truthful to you.”

It was irritating.

“You’re the spy to end all spies. Nothing about your job is truthful.”

He didn’t argue that.

Kianthe narrowed her eyes. “Tilaine knows more than we expected. If you’re still loyal to her, everyone I love is at risk—and I won’t stand for that.” For added measure, the stone squeezed tighter as she spoke. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough that he knew she was deathly serious.

Exasperation flashed across his features. “I fear there’s been a misunderstanding. I am not loyal to Tilaine—that’s why I’m here today, ahead of her arrival. Right now, Reyna is my only priority, as she’s been for years.”

Huh. Fear flickered along Kianthe’s spine, and she tamped it down with cold determination.

“See, Reyna being your priority for ‘years’ is what’s concerning me.” Kianthe’s tone was dark, ruthless. “My partner was a lowly Queensguard. At no point should she have garnered your attention—unless you’ve been scheming from the beginning. So, tell me something true, spymaster.”

Locke was used to operating under pressure. He heaved a sigh—as much of one as he could, considering the stone’s hold. “I like peaches. My favorite books are rather explicit romances. I have a sweetheart in the Capital, but I can only see her a few times a season or I’d put her at risk.”

“Something true about Reyna.”

“Reyna is no one. And that makes her perfect.” Locke grunted as the stone pulled him a little farther into the wall. “She’s loyal, determined, skilled, and observant in a way no other Queensguard has matched. Her ambitions amounted to nothing at all. In my business, that means she’d make either an excellent spy—or an excellent pawn.”

Kianthe scowled. “She isn’t a pawn.”

“And she isn’t a spy.” Locke held her gaze, his expression solemn. “I kept her in my back pocket, but her uses have far surpassed my expectations. We both know she’d make a wonderful monarch.”

Well, that was true.

The spymaster grimaced. “And since we’re being honest: working for Tilaine is awful. I thought her mother was cruel, but at least Eren was purposeful in her atrocities. Tilaine is … well, it’s like handing an impulsive, selfish teenager the reins to a warhorse and asking her not to trample someone.”

That, at least, they could agree on. Kianthe stepped back. The stone relaxed its hold and ground back into the wall, relieved to resume its former state.

Locke eased away, rubbing his wrists with a heavy sigh. “My eyewitness accounts don’t lie. You are deceptively frightening.”

“Only when my family is at risk.” Kianthe crossed her arms. “Unfortunately, that does include everyone in this town, and a choice few beyond it. Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t.” Locke smoothed his clothes, fixing the cuffs of his sleeves. He hesitated, then added, “Reyna’s mother was a dear friend of mine, and I don’t find those often. She deserved more than an early death guarding a cruel queen, and that was why I’ve tried to protect Reyna where I could. It was a relief to see her fleeing the palace last year. I was rooting for you two.”

“You could have deterred Tilaine more. She still found us pretty fucking fast.”

Locke pressed his lips together. “That was courtesy of Reyna’s Queensguard cohort, Venne. Persistent fellow.”

Ah yes. Kianthe should have known.

Locke stretched his arms out. “If it makes you feel better, once Reyna takes the throne, I plan to retire.”

“That does make me feel better.” Kianthe leaned against the far wall. Locke seemed averse to trying that again, but the stone just hugged Kianthe like an old friend, molding perfectly to the shape of her shoulders. “But that wasn’t the reason I pulled you here. Tilaine knew about Tessalyn last season. She sent a Queensguard after her, but he found Victoria, James’s aunt, instead.”

“Victoria was one of our finest Queensguard. She and her sister were a fearsome pair.” Locke contemplated that. “Tilaine certainly knew of her sister. She’d been pressing me to find Tessalyn ever since Queen Eren passed. But I’ve been careful; she shouldn’t have known where Tessalyn was.”

“Well, clearly she did, because that Queensguard killed Victoria instead.” Kianthe’s tone was dark, dangerous.

She watched, assessing Locke. He probably was loyal, but Victoria seemed to be the loose thread here.

But the old spymaster just paled. “I was told she was killed by bandits—” He cut himself off, cursing. “Tilaine won’t know about the coup. I keep my pathways of information carefully divided; my lieutenants never have all the information. But this does complicate things.”

“I’ll say. Tilaine is on her way here now.”

“That’s by design. I offered news of the wedding earlier this week; she’s been preparing her Queensguard for the journey for days.” Locke rolled his shoulders, his jaw set. “If she knew where to find Victoria, then she’s more dangerous than we thought. We should assume she knows the lost heir is in Tawney now.”

Kianthe winced. “Which means it’s time to hide her.”

“Anywhere you can. Preferably somewhere a Queensguard won’t suspect.”

“Hmm.” Kianthe massaged her temples, feeling a headache coming on. Was the wedding over yet? Because this secretive bullshit was Reyna’s specialty, not hers. “Okay. But remember—if we find out you’re the one lying, I will find you. The elements aren’t kind when they’re being guided by a very angry mage.”

Locke held up his hands. “Another truth, Arcandor: my sweetheart in the Capital wants to run away with me. She’s thinking Koll, for the wine.” His tone slipped into an affectionate lilt. “I’ve worked for decades in a high-stress job. Watching Reyna construct the life she wants … well, it inspired me. Once it’s safe—once she’s queen—I’ll vanish from your lives.”

He could be lying—but then again, anyone could. Kianthe didn’t want paranoia to be her life. She held similar suspicions for years, and it only made her friendless and lonely.

“A nice retirement. Can’t argue with that.”

Without waiting for him, she strolled back into the study.

He followed on her heels, his steps silent as a ghost, and closed the door behind them. Tessalyn and Lord Wylan had been talking quietly, but now they glanced at the pair. James pushed to his feet, his off hand drifting to stabilize the nonexistent sword at his hip.

“Everything okay?” Tessalyn’s voice was hesitant, cautious.

Kianthe glanced at Locke, then drew a slow sigh. “Ah, James? You may want to sit down. You won’t like what I have to say.”

And she told them everything, relaying the information Bobbie and Serina had uncovered. The longer Kianthe talked, the more rigid James got, and by the end Tessalyn had tears sliding down her cheeks. She gripped James’s arm, swallowing hard.

“I just—” She clenched her eyes shut. “We knew it was Tilaine, but I never imagined she’d send another Queensguard. I thought it was one of your spies.” She glared at Locke.

He raised his hands. “My spies have been keeping their distance from you for years now. I’ve never had an intention of making you my enemy.”

Tessalyn flinched, still rubbing James’s back. “Too little, too late.”

He seemed to appreciate the touch. He swiped at his eyes, voice hardening. “If a Queensguard killed Victoria, then they’re the new enemy. When Tilaine gets here, I’m going to—”

“You’ll do absolutely nothing,” a calm voice said from the doorway, and Reyna swept into the room. She’d clearly flown here in a hurry—her bun was messy, her cheeks pink from the cold wind. But despite that, she seemed composed as ever. “I’m so, so sorry about Victoria.”

“It’s—” Tessa cut herself off. “No, nothing’s okay. But thank you for investigating. It’s more than we expected.”

James wasn’t so ready to back down. He scowled, muscles tense. “Tilaine deserves to die for this. And her Queensguard are just as bad.”

It was a far cry from the admiration he’d held for them last week. Kianthe bristled on behalf of Reyna, but her partner didn’t seem fazed.

In fact, a sly smile played on her lips.

“You’re mistaken, James. One Queensguard followed orders—but those orders would have rankled their soul. This was Tilaine’s biggest mistake.” Reyna took a seat on the empty armchair beside Kianthe’s abandoned books, posture relaxed. “Her spies follow Locke, and Locke has sided with us. Tilaine has an extensive network of soldiers, but they’re based in the Capital. They’d never get here fast enough to intervene.”

Now Lord Wylan laughed.

It was so abrupt, so unfitting for the earlier tone, that everyone glanced his way.

But he was grinning at Reyna. “Gods, you are brilliant. Tilaine brought the only people she felt were still loyal: her Queensguard.”

Reyna tugged the gold amulet out of her pocket, spinning it over her knuckles in a dizzying display. Kianthe hadn’t even known she could do that, but then again, she’d probably had plenty of time to practice standing in empty hallways watching for invisible enemies.

Reyna’s voice was dark, fierce now. “They won’t be loyal for long. A Queensguard’s prime objective is to protect the queen—but we have a second, unspoken rule that is bound in blood. We protect each other. Past, present, and future. No one fucks with a Queensguard.”

“Unless she commits treason to the throne,” Kianthe grumbled. “Because I seem to remember Venne showing up in a pretty aggressive manner last summer.”

“Venne was trying to protect me, in his own way.” Reyna shook her head, flicking James the coin. He caught it one-handed, examined it with Tessalyn squinting over his shoulder. “And like it or not, he’ll be the linchpin once Tilaine arrives in Tawney.”

Wylan frowned. “Can you still trust him?”

Reyna sighed. “Venne is my oldest friend. That should count for something. And if it doesn’t … well, he’s terrible at lying.”

“There’s another problem.” Locke set his jaw. “Tilaine will be here by nightfall. I haven’t seen her since leaving the Capital days ago. If she truly is questioning my loyalty, if one of my spies went rogue and revealed Tessalyn’s location in Leonol, any summons now will have murderous intent.”

“That just means she’s spiraling.” Reyna seemed coldly delighted at the prospect. “Keep yourself hidden, Locke. Dreggs’s pirates are blending with our townsfolk, and they sent a pair to have the Painted Death moved farther north. There’s no evidence Tessalyn arrived in Tawney at all—but we need to keep it that way.”

Kianthe jumped in, leveling a firm stare at Tessalyn and James. “Time to make yourselves scarce. All traces of you in this manor need to be gone. Feo is prepared to receive you, but don’t dally. No matter what, do not face a Queensguard alone, all right?”

Tessa drew a shaking breath. “Okay. We’ll stay out of sight.”

Reyna pushed to her feet, dusting off her pants. “Are you ready to overthrow a queen, love?”

Kianthe tucked her chosen books under one arm. “Sure, why not. And after that, maybe we’ll have some cake.”

“Wouldn’t that be something,” Reyna replied. She squeezed Tessalyn’s arm, offered James a determined nod, and led the way out of the study. Kianthe followed, cool anticipation settling in her chest.

Much to do, after all.

23

Reyna

That night, Her Excellency Queen Tilaine, the tenth blessed sovereign of the venerated Queendom, arrived in Tawney.

And in a shocking turn of events, it was subtle enough that no one else noticed.

Reyna and Kianthe spent the day sweeping around town, preparing townsfolk and adjusting the pirates’ clothing and mannerisms to blend better. Diarn Feo was too busy receiving Sheparan councilmembers—six of the nine had decided to attend—and a couple representatives of the Leonolan board of regents to partake in festivities. The entire town was abuzz, but an undercurrent of panic slid beneath the flurry.

Finally, Kianthe and Reyna went home to rest, recuperate, and prepare.

And inside, sipping from Reyna’s favorite mug, was Queen Tilaine.

“—that’s why I said—” Kianthe stopped short at the threshold, jerking back like she’d been burned. Ironic, for an elemental mage. Her voice climbed to a higher pitch. “Ah, Your Excellency! What a pleasant surprise.”

Reyna, meanwhile, remained in the background, a polite smile gracing her lips.

Tilaine was flanked by her two most senior Queensguard, Carlon and Teck. They both carried blades—poisoned, no doubt—and were clad in their formal uniform: crimson cloaks, black shirts and pants, and golden dragon pauldrons. Their stares were blank, deceptively so; to Reyna, it was obvious they were watching her every move.

Do you know? She wanted to ask. Do you know what Tilaine ordered? The cohort she forced one of us to kill?

She didn’t speak it. Instead, she bowed deeply, lingering in the motion; after all, this was one of the last times she’d ever bow to Tilaine. One way or another, their fates would change tomorrow.

“Your Excellency,” Reyna said. “I wasn’t aware we’d be hosting a royal guest, or I’d have tidied.”

Tilaine cast a slow glance around New Leaf. “This bookshop is quaint. Very country.”

Kianthe normally would have bristled at the veiled insult. But even she knew the stakes here, so she strode forward like they were expecting this visit all year. And, in a way, they were. When she got close to the table Tilaine had claimed, Kianthe cast a purposeful glance at the imposing Queensguard flanking her.

“Ah, shall I join you, or will your guards skewer me for trying?”

“Please, Arcandor.” Tilaine puffed a derisive laugh. “You are every bit a major power. Although it is sometimes difficult to remember, considering you don’t have a country to command. Take a seat.”

Kianthe smiled, but a flash of heat swept through the bookshop. “Ah yes, commanding a country. It sounds awful; I personally don’t know how you do it.”

“It is a trial, but some of us are burdened with responsibility.” Tilaine sighed.

With a glance around the bookshop—as if she’d rather be anywhere but here—Kianthe sat down, perching awkwardly on the chair.

Reyna, meanwhile, stepped behind the counter and delicately cleared her throat. “Your Excellency, if I may?”

Tilaine flapped a hand, although she seemed thoroughly annoyed at the distraction. “Go on.”

Reyna bowed again, ever respectful. “I see you already have some tea steeping, but I do have your favorite blend in the back. Would you like to—”

“Nonsense. We already found it, Reyna, my dear,” Tilaine said, raising her mug. Reyna’s mug—the one Kianthe had gifted her last year when they first opened the shop. Reyna tried not to be offended by that—or by her words.

Kianthe wasn’t as skilled at controlling her emotions. The mage’s brows drew together in outrage. “Wait, hang on. Were you riffling through our storage room?”

“What she means is, we’d have been pleased to retrieve it for you—but if you’ve already found it, that was a lovely courtesy. How kind of you to save our time.” Reyna kept her voice soft and lilting, but shot a warning stare at Kianthe over the Queensguard’s shoulders.

Queen Tilaine smirked, leaning over her mug. Ignoring Reyna entirely.

After all, Kianthe had always been her prize.

“Arcandor, I must be frank.”

Unfortunately, Kianthe had given up all pretenses.

“Well, I thought Tilaine was a lovely name, but if you say so. Queen Frank has a nice ring.” Kianthe’s dark eyes were glimmering like two hot coals. Around her, magic rippled in the air.

At least, right until Carlon snorted.

It was such a grievous overstep, such a breach of protocol, that everyone in the room turned toward him. He’d been a Queensguard since Reyna was a toddler, and had watched over Tilaine since she was born. Carlon was known for his professionalism—a steady hand and steadier resolution.

Reyna nearly dropped the mug she was filling. Only quick reflexes saved it from clattering to the countertop, spilling everywhere.

Carlon swallowed, ramrod straight. His eyes were glued to the front door as if, in the ensuing silence, they’d forget he’d made a noise at all.

Tilaine’s eyes flashed, and a childlike fury tainted her voice. “Do you think that was funny, Queensguard?”

Queensguard. Disgust filled Reyna’s chest. Tilaine knew their names. She knew, because she used them only at the opportune moments, only to call them out before a crowd.

Tilaine looked so close to murdering another of their own. Already, Teck had their hand on their sword, dread on their face.

Teck would follow orders, and Carlon would be mourned. But unlike Victoria, who had served loyally for decades, it wouldn’t cause an outrage. Carlon overstepped. He’d laughed at the queen—and that was a grievance Tilaine would never abide.

Reyna couldn’t stand watching this terrible queen play with the lives of her friends.

Not anymore.

“It was a joke, Your Excellency. The Mage of Ages is known for them.” Reyna paused, waited until Tilaine pivoted to glance at her. “Actually, that was very kind of Carlon to show his amusement. Anything less is considered incredibly rude in the Magicary.”

“It’s true,” Kianthe drawled, examining her nails. It was a casual gesture considering how tight her shoulders were. “I’d be rather offended if someone hadn’t laughed. Thank you, Carlon.”

“You’re welcome, Arcandor,” the Queensguard said, his voice steady.

Teck’s hand slowly dropped from their sword. A flicker of relief flashed across their features.

This was the Queensguard that Tilaine had fostered. One poisoned by the queen’s paranoia and ever-changing whim, where a cohort may have to strike down another for a single misstep. The fact that it happened here, now, told Reyna everything she needed to know about the state of the Capital.

Clearly, Locke was right to track Reyna down.

This couldn’t continue.

Tilaine sniffed haughtily. “Yes, well. It was an amusing anecdote, although I don’t appreciate you twisting my words for humor.” She paused, then decided to move on. “Now, we have more important business. I’ve let you have your fun with my Queensguard.” She wasn’t talking about Carlon anymore. “Isn’t that right, Arcandor?”

Shit.

Kianthe’s gaze darkened, and flecks of magic began to sparkle. “Have my fun?” But she caught Reyna’s gaze over the queen’s head. Reyna’s look was nothing short of pleading—and it calmed Kianthe instantly. The mage drew a tight breath and replied, “Ah, yes. It was very kind of you to release Reyna from duty. She’s an excellent tea maker, and an even better partner.”

Reyna finished with her cups of tea, and rounded the corner, offering a mug to Carlon and Teck. Both refused with a subtle shake of their heads, but Carlon’s lips tilted up in a welcoming smile.

She heard the words to that smile, words she’d been told over and over growing up: Good job, kid.

Reyna smiled back, and her expression was filled with everything she wasn’t allowed to say.

Instead, she took the mugs to the table. “Thank you, dear. It truly is a demonstration of Queen Tilaine’s generosity. I’m very grateful for my second life.”

This time, Reyna didn’t ask permission—she sat down beside Kianthe, tugging her chair in, and took a sip of her tea.

A united front.

Kianthe made it really united. She tossed her arm over Reyna’s shoulders, pulling her close. The mage’s body was warm, almost too hot, with internal fire. Reyna absently traced a slow circle on her skin to calm her down.

After all, the coup had to happen tomorrow, in front of everyone. If they acted here, now, the Realm would always think they’d attacked Tilaine, manipulated her, something. There would be doubt.

Kianthe was frustrated, rightly so, but this had to be played carefully.

Tilaine seemed irritated now. Disgust flashed across her features. “So very much in love. But while you two have been living your honeymoon life, I’ve been struggling with the absence of my favorite Queensguard. A woman who, I’d assumed, respected me enough to extend an invitation to the wedding I helped facilitate.”

Facilitate. Reyna almost laughed now, swallowed it just in time. “Your Excellency, we did send an invitation. Did it not arrive?”

“Personal courier,” Kianthe replied, leaning back in her chair. She was clearly enjoying this now that Reyna was here, too. “I’ve heard bandit activity is picking up along the main road. Perhaps you need more soldiers patrolling.”

It was a lie. Word must have spread about Reyna’s fake bandit assignments—or maybe it spread that the Arcandor lived in Tawney. Either way, the bandits visiting New Leaf for assignments had vanished last year. Reyna kind of missed their company.

Tilaine scowled, drumming her fingers on the table. Her nails had been painted, sharpened to a vicious point. “There are no bandits in the Queendom.”

“Well—” Kianthe started.

Tilaine cut her off, her voice sharp. Almost … fracturing. “You two have misunderstood.” Her expression twisted into fury, enough to make Kianthe stiffen. “Reyna is still mine. And if you want to keep playing house in this vile barn, you will aid me, Arcandor. This time, there is no mythical courier to misconnect our letters. You cannot ignore me while I sit one table away.”

Reyna’s eyes widened. She hadn’t expected such open vitriol. Tilaine was usually more composed around the Arcandor. More polite, if just to further future manipulation.

Kianthe was unfazed. She quirked one eyebrow.

“We have a wedding tomorrow, Tilaine.”

“The wedding will be violently canceled unless you help me.” Tilaine’s voice had dropped to a dangerous level. “One year ago, I stayed my hand in executing your partner for treason. Do not presume that was a permanent mercy.”

Flame danced along Kianthe’s hands. “Excuse me?”

The Queensguard reached for their swords.

“This is not a debate!” Tilaine silenced them all by slamming her hand to the table. Hot tea spilled over Reyna’s hand, burning her, and she withdrew with a swallowed gasp.

Silence.

Kianthe leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms, eyelids lowered in fury. Reyna dried her hand, mopping the table with a nearby rag. Carlon and Teck had suddenly found the bookshelves fascinating.

“Your Excellency … may I have a private audience?” Reyna dared to break the silence.

Tilaine’s chest was heaving, and it took her a few moments to process the words. The queen narrowed her eyes dangerously, but seemed to realize she’d lost Kianthe with that display. “Yes,” she hissed. “But make it quick.”

“Arcandor, if you don’t mind?”

Kianthe scowled. “Oh, I mind very much.”

“Key.” Reyna’s voice held no room for negotiation.

Kianthe grumbled something and stalked into the bedroom. After a cue from Tilaine, Carlon followed, leaving only Teck behind. The Queensguard stepped away from their table, close enough to intervene if Reyna tried something, far enough to offer the visage of privacy.

“Your Excellency, this isn’t like you.” Reyna’s voice was soft. It was another lie—this was exactly like Tilaine—but Reyna admittedly hadn’t expected to see her so fractured well before the coup even started. “What can I do to help?”

It disarmed Tilaine immediately. She glanced over her shoulder. “Someone is plotting to kill me.”

Hmm.

“Who would—”

“Who isn’t important,” Tilaine snarled.

Reyna clamped her mouth shut, brows furrowed. Waiting for the queen to offer information.

Tilaine leaned back in her chair, her fingers clenching the mug of tea like she might be able to shatter the ceramic. Even from here, Reyna could smell the acrid scent of tiger dung—Leonol’s Stripe Blend was Tilaine’s favorite, even though it was an absolute atrocity everywhere else.

“The assassin traveled north from Leonol on a pirate’s ship. We lost sight of it north of the Capital, but I have to assume that bitch was heading here, to Tawney.”

“For the wedding?” Reyna feigned surprise.

Tilaine’s glower burned more than the spilled tea. “This sham wedding is hardly worth an assassin’s time. No, she clearly intended to travel south into the Capital. She wants to take the throne for her own selfish gain.”

Reyna kept her voice even, gentle. “You keep mentioning ‘she.’ I will protect you and your throne, Your Excellency, but I can’t help if I don’t know the threat.”

“It’s a woman by the name of Tessalyn.” Tilaine spat the name. “A Queendom refugee with delusions of royal blood.”

“Royal—” Reyna cut herself off, wincing. “But Queen Eren only had one child. You, Your Excellency. A blessed girl.”

Tilaine was living in delusion. Her eyes had grown wide. “Exactly. I am the true heir. I am the rightful ruler of the Queendom. But my mother”—the word was spoken with such a malicious tone that anyone else would have been executed for the disrespect—“planted her in Leonol to infiltrate their idiotic board.”

A coup.

All this time, Reyna had wondered why Tessalyn was placed in Leonol at all. But if Queen Eren wanted to seize the country, having an heir of Queendom blood rising through the university ranks would be a solid choice.

“Queen Eren wanted Leonol?” Reyna’s shock was real, now.

“Why she cared about that mosquito-infested jungle is beyond me. And it hardly matters.” Queen Tilaine clenched her fists, looking murderous. “This woman is a fake. She cannot be allowed to roam the Queendom. You have one job, Reyna. Find her. Kill her slowly. Make her bleed for her sins against the Gods.”

Reyna hesitated. “Your Excellency, I doubt Kianthe will—”

“You’re her future wife, are you not?” Tilaine narrowed her eyes. “Convince her. Or I will remind you that a queen’s mercy will not appear a second time.”

Reyna had to play this carefully. If she agreed now, and Tilaine fled the wedding, they’d lose their chance. She drew a slow breath, regret coloring her features. “I understand, Your Excellency. But if we may request the wedding, at least? It might be a good display of your strength to attend.” She paused. “The Arcandor marrying a Queensguard? You will have more power than Shepara and Leonol combined.”

That, at least, seemed to calm Tilaine down. A greedy gleam overtook her eyes, and she lifted her chin. “Well, then. Nothing would please me more than attending the wedding as the guest of honor.” A weighted pause. “And afterward, Reyna, I expect your full cooperation.”

They’d see about that.

“Anything, Your Excellency. For the Gods. For the throne.”

Queen Tilaine swept to her feet, abandoning her half-finished tea. “Teck, retrieve Carlon.” As Teck slid into the back room to summon their counterpart, Queen Tilaine narrowed her eyes at Reyna. “Do not disappoint me.”

It set a chill across the cozy space.

She left, and the guards followed.

Once they were gone, Kianthe stepped into the space. Her eyes cut over the table with the cooling mugs of tea, then toward the closed barn door. “So, how’s our favorite murderer?”

“She’s fracturing.” Reyna frowned, quietly locking the door behind the sovereign. “It’s becoming more obvious that she’s unfit to lead. She wouldn’t admit that Tessalyn shares her blood, which is denial of the most intriguing kind.”

“Luckily, we have a wonderful replacement for her.” Kianthe swelled with pride.

It made Reyna’s chest curdle. “Key, what if the Gods forsake me tomorrow? Only a royal can claim their blessing. What if Tilaine is still their chosen?”

“We both heard about Tilaine’s ‘blessing’ last year. She picked up a royal scepter—and it burned her. The scars on her hands prooove…” Kianthe paused for dramatic effect, waiting for Reyna to finish. When she didn’t, the mage shrugged. “Well, it proves that something metal was hot, and she touched it.”

“That’s simplifying things.”

“It really isn’t, Rain. Personally, I think Queen Eren heated the rod to further their royal bed of lies, and Tilaine went along with it because she wants to believe she’s special.”

“She is special. She’s the queen.” Reyna massaged her forehead.

Kianthe stepped closer, wrapping her arms around Reyna’s waist. Their bodies pressed together. Warmth and comfort spread through Reyna’s chest as Kianthe kissed her forehead.

“You’re special too. And the more I think about it, the more I’m wondering if Tessalyn was onto something with that dragon magic theory. I bet she and Feo will stay up late comparing notes.”

“Maybe.” Reyna sighed, burying her nose in the crook of Kianthe’s shoulder.

For a long moment, there was only silence.

“You don’t have to take over for Tilaine, you know.” Kianthe’s tone was serious, a rare thing. “If you’re having doubts. If you’re scared. You have a choice, just like Tessalyn.”

Reyna sighed. “Surprisingly, I’m not scared about being queen. I just … wish I’d thought harder about the Gods before giving them … everything.”

Kianthe considered that. “Well, bonus. If the dragons are the old gods, you’ve already befriended their kids.”

Now Reyna snorted, giving Kianthe a kiss before pulling back. “Thanks, love. I suppose, at the very least, that chat with Tilaine proves she might benefit from a forced vacation.”

“An extended one. Probably trapped on the Roiling Islands.”

Reyna chuckled, stretching. “Okay. Bedtime? Early day tomorrow.”

“Ah, about that.”

“What?” Reyna deadpanned.

Kianthe hesitated, then spread out her arms. “We’re hosting a party here tonight. Game night. Cocoa & Capitalism.”

She couldn’t keep the deadpan tone from her voice. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“Surpriiise?” Kianthe said hesitantly. At Reyna’s unrelenting stare, she huffed. “What? I thought you’d be gone, cozying up to Venne and your old buddies in the Queensguard.”

“You did not. We only decided that half a day ago.”

“I know, but it wound up being super convenient.” Kianthe smirked. “Matild said we need to have two separate parties before the wedding. Mine is here, with Cocoa & Capitalism. Yours can be here too—I’ll pretend I don’t see you—or you can enjoy your old cohorts.”

Reyna rolled her eyes. “You always give me the nicest options.”

“You chose me, and by extension, you chose this.” Kianthe shooed her out the door. “Go on, love. Summon me on the moonstone if things turn violent. Whistle if you need a ride—Visk is in the area, I’m sure.”

Reyna didn’t have the energy for more. “Fine, fine.” She waved a hand and headed out.

24

Kianthe

Cocoa & Capitalism was a brutal game.

Kianthe should have expected it, all things considered. It started out so innocently—just a simple, imaginary world displayed on a large wooden board etched with various towns and locales. Each player was given a card at the beginning with their character’s passion, and the rest of the game involved them consulting with the Manager of Revenue—Kianthe—to create a business around it.

It was Kianthe’s job to toss obstacles in their way, but she didn’t expect them to be so nasty. She squinted at the card she’d drawn, tapping the edge of it.

“Huh. You aren’t going to like this.”

Matild, Tarly, Patol, and Nurt sat around her, hunched over the playing board. James had joined after all, leaving Tessalyn at Diarn Feo’s compound. When Kianthe asked about it, he’d shrugged and replied, “Well, she’s dining with the councilmembers themselves. And it’s boring as hells when Tess discusses policy.”

Now, James scowled, tapping the tiny hutch that represented his rug-weaving shopfront. His voice was deadpan. “What? After the fire, the second fire, the competition opening across the street, and the tax hike, what could possibly hit me next?”

“To be fair, I just make better rugs than you.” Matild smirked, spinning one of her fake palidrons on the table. Tucked protectively behind her arm was a stockpile of wooden chips that tagged her as the second-richest entrepreneur at the table.

“You do not!” James’s voice climbed in pitch. He flashed his founder’s card for proof. “My business was created by my great-grandfather—”

Matild smirked. “It’s antiquated. People want tapestries on their floors these days.”

“Tapestries are for walls,” James hissed, indignant.

“Okay, you two. It’s just business.” Kianthe regained their attention, contemplating the card in her hands. “All right, James. You got tired of Matild cutting you out of deals—so you went public on the stock market. It was a big hit—you made twenty palidrons by taking a risk!” She pushed over the money with a cheerful grin.

James’s expression brightened. “Oh. That’s not too bad!” He cut a smug look at Matild. “Take that.”

“What’s a stock market?” Tarly, sitting with his tiny pest control business, raised his eyebrows.

“I don’t know. It’s complicated. It’s like a farmers’ market, except theoretical. And money comes out.” Kianthe thumbed through the pages of the rule book, but the description seemed like another language. She’d need weeks to analyze some of these economic policies. She carefully tucked the rule book under her arm.

Nurt raised a hand. His character’s passion was banking, and he was taking it very seriously. “The stock market is a place where folks can invest in businesses they think will do well.”

Oh. Well, that seemed a lot easier than the rule book’s explanation.

And it played in perfectly with the note he’d slipped her during his last turn. Kianthe tapped his handwritten note, referenced James’s card, then tutted. “Yes, well. Apparently, some people can also invest in the stock market to drive your business into the ground.”

“What? Someone betted to shutter my great-grandfather’s business?” James glared at Matild. “You. You orchestrated this.”

Matild smirked. “Listen. Conventional means weren’t working.”

Beside her, Nurt held Kianthe’s gaze and opened his hand, awaiting something.

Kianthe somberly intoned, “Our banker funded your competitor. Your stock lost half its value overnight.” She reached across the table and dragged half of James’s total profits—the twenty palidrons, plus five of the palidrons he had already—to Nurt’s side of the table.

Nurt split the palidrons with Matild, who whistled as she began stacking her wooden chips into neat towers. Nurt, the current richest entrepreneur at the table, winked at Kianthe and flicked a palidron her way. “Nice doing business with you.”

“Hang on.” James pushed to his feet, his chair shoving backward. “You’re the Manager of Revenue! You can’t side with a bank. You’re supposed to be impartial.”

“I’m hardly siding with a bank,” Kianthe replied, tucking the wooden palidron into a tiny—yet steadily growing—bag of her own private coins. “But the rules do say I can receive a kickback.”

“That seems pretty corrupt,” Patol grumbled.

“Agreed.” Tarly uncrossed his bulky arms, slapping a card painted bright red on the table. “I loved that rug business. I demand an investigation into what just happened.”

An investigation. Hmm. Kianthe plucked out the rule book, flipping about halfway through. She read the terms and said, “Okay, in an investigation, the businesses involved may submit comments about recent events. The Manager of Revenue, coupled with the most profitable banker, will deliberate and reach a consensus.”

“What?” Tarly yelped. “You and Nurt—”

“Submit your comments now, please.” Kianthe flipped an hourglass and crossed her arms.

Irate silence fell over the table as everyone scribbled notes with their quills. Ink splattered on the table—Reyna wouldn’t be very happy about that—but their messy scrawls were filled with passion. James wrote up a storm. His comment alone took up his entire scrap of parchment.

“Submit,” Kianthe called when the last granule of sand fell through the glass.

Papers were shoved her way. Kianthe stacked them into a nice pile, then gestured at Nurt. “Come on. We have to deliberate.”

Nurt dutifully followed her to the corner of New Leaf, where they hunched in intense conversation. Kianthe flipped through the comments and said, “The majority—James, Patol, and Tarly—feel that we were unfair, and the stock market should be disbanded.”

“Denied,” Nurt said solemnly.

Kianthe swallowed a snort. “You don’t even want to consider the voices of the masses?”

“Matild isn’t complaining.” Nurt plucked the comments from her hands and flipped to Matild’s comment, which just said, Keep it up, Nurt. We’re winning. A sly smile overtook the town informant’s lips. “Listen, I can see why you want to keep the game fair. But I’ll make sure we all win if you look the other way on this.”

Kianthe squinted at him.

He reached into his pocket and tugged out a wooden palidron chip.

Well. Kianthe couldn’t turn that down. After all, in the second phase of the game, even the Manager of Revenue could buy houses and invest capital. Playing this game right meant playing it over several weeks, when time impacted business decisions and relationships.

It was the long game, really.

Kianthe smirked, tucking the palidron into her pocket. “Nice doing business with you.”

“A pleasure.” Nurt tipped his hat and strolled back to the table.

Kianthe followed at a more leisurely pace. She took her time pulling out her chair, sliding into it, and drawing a deep swig of the hot chocolate they’d made for the occasion. The baking cocoa was a little bitter, but a spoonful of sugar smoothed it out, and she smacked her lips at the sweet aftertaste.

Tarly, James, and Patol were glaring when she set down her mug.

“Well?” James demanded. “What’s your verdict? We all want it gone.”

“I don’t.” Matild examined her nails.

Kianthe drew a slow breath, preparing for the onslaught. “The banker and I have discussed the investigation into the banker’s business practices, and we agree nothing illegal was done. The rule book is clear—probably—and the stock market will persist in this manner.”

“Oh, come on,” James shouted.

Tarly tossed up his hands. “You’re supposed to be impartial!”

Kianthe held their gazes seriously, her voice stern. “I’m the Manager of Revenue. I’m always impartial. You can trust me.” And in plain sight, she plucked the palidron bribe out of her pocket and added it to her ever-growing bag of funds.

Matild patted Tarly’s back. “There, there, darling. Look how rich we are. Didn’t you hear? My character is in the market for a spouse. How about I buy your business and we … merge.” The final word was whispered seductively against his neck, emphasized with a slow kiss on his chin.

“Huh.” Tarly smirked. “I changed my mind. This game seems very fair.”

Patol massaged his temples. “Yikes.”

“Yeah.” James pushed away from the table, stretching his arms above his head. “Okay. I think I’m done with Cocoa & Capitalism today. When are we drinking and celebrating the marriage?”

“Hang on, before you go.” Kianthe thumbed through the rules, then cleared her throat self-importantly. “Every business entrepreneur is rewarded for persevering in the face of adversity. In phase two of the game, Nurt will divvy out business loans for you to achieve your wildest dreams. So, spend the next couple weeks thinking about how you’ll use that money to thrive.”

“Hang on,” Nurt grumbled. “I’m not giving up my money. I thought we had a deal.”

Kianthe grinned like a dragon sighting prey. “Deal’s off. Next time we play, ninety percent of your funds will be invested in small business. How courteous of you, Mister Banker.”

“Ha,” James said.

Nurt glared, muttered something, and began counting how many palidrons he had to play with next week. As Patol and Nurt packed up the game, Matild strolled over to Kianthe, draping her arms over the mage’s shoulders.

“Well, well. Last night as a single woman. You excited?”

“Huh?” Kianthe blinked. “Oh, yeah! The wedding. Yes. So, so excited.”

Matild squinted at her. “You sound distracted.”

Kianthe hesitated, stepping behind the counter to gain some distance from the group. James and Tarly had struck up a conversation, sitting by the hearth while Patol and Nurt bickered. New Leaf felt warm with companionship, and Kianthe basked in it. But thinking about the future made her words quiet and dull. “I mean, I’m worried. About Reyna, and what our lives will be if she”—a pause, a grimace—“if she does become queen.”

Matild leaned over the counter, drumming her fingers on the polished wood. Scuffs and scratches marred its surface from a full year of everyday use, but that just gave it character. Matild traced a deep gouge from a particularly indignant bandit back when New Leaf first opened. “I was thinking that too. A queen can’t rule from a place like Tawney. She needs to be in the Capital, at the Grand Palace.”

“Don’t remind me,” Kianthe mumbled.

“Mmm. And it’d look strange if you spent your time there. Marrying a Queendom citizen is one thing, but living in the Grand Palace is another entirely. Especially if that citizen suddenly becomes royalty.” Matild sounded contemplative. “Right now, you’ve settled on the borders of two countries, which feels like a good alternative to the Magicary.”

Kianthe worried about all of that too. She sighed, running a hand through her wild hair. “Opinions of my loyalties don’t matter to me. I’ll continue to take care of every country in the Realm. But Reyna isn’t immune to public opinion. She wants to stay in Tawney, but if people throw a fit, she’ll probably relocate to the Grand Palace.”

“Hmm.” Matild tilted her head.

“What?” Kianthe asked.

The midwife tapped her chin. “Well, that’s an interesting point. I wonder if that’d happen.”

Matild straightened, reaching for a spare mug. The water had been kept on a low boil, and she poured some over the chocolate squares they’d set aside for the evening. Behind them, James and Tarly burst into laughter, and Nurt and Patol strolled over to see the fuss.

Kianthe crossed her arms, waiting for Matild to expand.

Matild hummed. “It’d be easier to rule from the Capital because that’s what we all expect. But our queens have always been of royal blood, in the public eye, which means that no one will recognize Reyna. So, if Tessalyn is the one visible in the Capital, and Reyna stays here, out of sight … that might actually make this shake-up easier to accept.”

Huh. Kianthe tilted her head. “I’m not sure Tessalyn wants to be in the Capital.”

“Tess actually wouldn’t mind that,” James said from behind them.

He’d moseyed over with the game’s box, leaving Tarly, Nurt, and Patol by the hearth. He slid Cocoa & Capitalism into an empty shelf near Kianthe’s knees and straightened, eyeing Matild’s mug. “Is there any left?”

“Plenty,” Kianthe said, flicking a thumb of flame under another mug loaded with chocolate squares. It melted swiftly, and she mixed a shot of milk with boiling water, then stirred.

James took the drink, smiling in gratitude. “Listen. Tessalyn loves to learn, and it’s bothered her that the Queendom—our heritage—is off-limits. If Tilaine were truly gone, if there wasn’t a threat of being killed on sight … she’d happily spend a few years in the Capital, browsing the Grand Palace’s records.”

“What about you?” Kianthe asked.

“I go where Tess goes.” James hesitated, taking a quick sip from his mug.

Kianthe raised an eyebrow. “And Fauston?” After the baby dragon debacle, it seemed like they’d had a nice date. Boring to watch, but it looked fun for them.

A flush crept over James’s face, and he ducked his head. “I mean, he’s welcome to come too. I’m sure there’s room in the palace.”

Huh. Kianthe smirked, leaning against the back counter. “I’ll mention it to him.” A pause, and she couldn’t quell the hopeful tone. “Do you guys really think that’d work? Reyna as queen here, Tessalyn establishing her parliament in the Capital?”

“I think Reyna would have to travel,” Matild replied honestly. “But she does have access to a griffon, which would lessen the blow. Tawney wants you two here. And with the dragon babies, I’m not sure you should be anywhere else long term.”

That was an excellent point. Kianthe winced. “Yeah, you’re right. I think that was why the Stone of Seeing guided me here, even with its shitty ley line. The dragons are on better terms with humans now than they’ve been in hundreds of years.”

The history of the Great Awakening was clear—dragons woke up hostile, then moved north to get away from humans. But records before that point were unreliable at best, and it was something Kianthe was glaringly aware of, with the Gods under scrutiny.

Ugh. Kianthe might have to go to the Magicary if she wanted to learn more. Dusty books and dustier mages scrambling for her attention; she could see it now.

A problem for another time.

Matild gestured at the Tawneans in the room. Patol, Nurt, and Tarly were still by the hearth, having an animated conversation. Matild kept her voice low, private. “Well, if we get a vote, we want you both here. I doubt Reyna would want the formalities of royalty anyway, aside from the requisite public appearances.”

“That’s probably true.” Kianthe sighed, stamping down the nervousness around it. Change. She both loved and hated the concept. Though at the moment, a change of topic was certainly appealing. “No offense, but this party is a downer.”

“We started with Cocoa & Capitalism,” James drawled.

“Point. But now that’s done. I bet Reyna’s having more fun with the Queensguard, and that’s a pretty damn low bar.” Kianthe bounced on her toes, raising her voice to get everyone’s attention. “Where are the tell-all games? The never-have-I-evers of the party world? Where’s the drinking?”

Matild rolled her eyes. “You don’t drink, mage.”

“But you do.” Kianthe reached below the bar and produced a dark bottle. Reyna wouldn’t tell her the liquor inside it, only that she’d secured it off Dreggs for a hefty price. Kianthe set it on the bar, holding Matild’s gaze. “I get married tomorrow. Let’s spend the night in style.”

Matild cupped her hands together, calling, “Patol, did you bring your rebec?”

“It’s a party. Why wouldn’t I have brought my rebec?” Patol ducked below their game table and produced the small stringed instrument.

And the festivities began.

25

Reyna

Considering she’d lived a life of peril, Reyna wasn’t expecting the nerves that settled in her stomach like an angry swarm of bees.

The Queensguard had erected a huge encampment on the southeastern side of Tawney, pointedly in view of the wedding ceremony’s venue. Tilaine wouldn’t even be there, not when she could be inspecting Lord Wylan’s manor, staff, and leadership impact—but every step snarled Reyna’s mind a little more.

The Queensguard were her people. She’d participated in something bigger than herself, and the members of that organization still felt like her friends, her old family. Years of comradery didn’t just vanish.

But approaching them now—after everything last year—felt intensely fake. Despite Tilaine’s forcible comments earlier, Reyna wasn’t one of them.

Not really.

Not anymore.

The Queensguard amulet burned in her pocket as she approached the encampment. Two members—young, clearly new recruits—gripped their matching swords. One called, “No Tawneans are allowed here. Return to town.”

He sounded authoritative enough.

Reyna countered his tone with her own, stern and calm. “I am Reyna, a retired Queensguard and the Arcandor’s future wife. Is Venne among you?”

The other kid relaxed, but the one who’d spoken seemed tense. “We can’t just—”

The other one elbowed him. “What the hells are you doing? That’s obviously her.” She raised her voice, hesitating. “One moment, please. I’ll retrieve Venne.” And she ducked back into camp.

Awkward silence filled the clearing. The Queensguard standing at the gate cleared his throat. Reyna smiled politely, glancing at the sky.

The dragons had returned to the northern mountains for the night, but a swift shape cut across the stars. Ponder must have realized Reyna was alone. In the darkness her griffon was nearly invisible, and Ponder used that to her advantage, remaining tactfully silent for once.

Good girl.

The female Queensguard returned with a man in tow. Venne looked a lot better than the last time Reyna had seen him—chastised by Queen Tilaine, sentenced to service in the confines of the Grand Palace. He’d always been in good shape, but a neatly trimmed beard and longer hair gave him an almost rugged appearance.

Clearly, the restrictions Her Excellency had imposed a year ago had been lifted. A part of Reyna was surprised he’d been allowed to visit Tawney at all.

Still, it was nice to see him.

Venne stopped a good distance from her and crossed his arms. The two guards by the encampment watched them warily, too far away to hear any conversation. Caution settled over Venne’s face.

“Reyna.” His voice was steady.

“Good to see you.” After a year of letting her tempest of emotions ease, letting the memories filter recent events … that was true. Toward the end, he had a misguided idea of what they meant to each other, but that couldn’t negate years of protection and friendship. They’d grown up together. She’d always love him, in some way.

After an awkward pause, Reyna offered a hand to shake.

Venne snorted. “I’m under strict orders not to touch you, lest my masculine urges corrupt your relationship with the Arcandor.” He stalwartly slipped his hands in his pockets.

Reyna didn’t reply, although she slowly lowered her hand. Deep in her soul, she wished he’d have listened this way earlier. If she’d felt safe doing so, she’d have told him everything from day one—but he always assumed they were soul mates. She expected it would be a betrayal of the greatest kind.

How could she explain that to him?

Turned out, she didn’t need to. A note of sadness slid into his voice. “Obviously, I misread us. I just thought we—” He clenched his eyes shut, drew a slow breath. “Are you happy with her?”

“She’s everything to me.” Reyna sighed. “I’m sorry I never told you the truth. You were always so, so important to me, but Kianthe is—”

“—your soul mate,” he finished.

To Reyna, Venne was important, but Kianthe was the love she’d always prioritize.

To Venne, Reyna disconnected from something that had seemed rock solid—and he never knew why.

She drifted, he clung, and the result got toxic.

“Yes,” Reyna whispered.

Venne tilted his gaze to the glimmering stars overhead. Ponder had slid toward the forest—near enough to help if needed, far enough not to be seen—so his view was unobstructed. This time, his voice was quiet. “This was never about conning the Arcandor, was it? You left because you were truly in love with her.”

Reyna didn’t see any reason to lie, not with the events of tomorrow so solidly in place. And of anyone here, she could trust Venne with this. She ran her fingers over her arm, feeling the scar that pushed her from the palace in the first place.

A blade slicing into her shoulder. A royal ball that suddenly seemed oppressive. A smile from a sovereign who’d never cared.

“I’ve been in love with her since the day we met, I think,” Reyna said softly.

Venne scrutinized her. A moment passed, a quiet acknowledgment of everything he thought they could be—everything that never would be, now. It slid between them and vanished into the wind. A year was a long time to accept things, and it seemed all he needed now was Reyna’s confirmation.

We’re over. We were never meant to be.

Venne drew a slow breath and smiled warmly. “Then I truly wish you the best, Rey. And I’m deeply sorry for how I acted last year.”

The apology came from his soul, and it brought tears to Reyna’s eyes. In just a few words, she had one of her oldest friends back—hopefully for good. Her cool façade crumbled, and she took a step forward, closing the gap between them. “Thank you. Gods, I’ve missed you, Venne. It’s been hard to leave everything behind.”

“Honestly? Agreed. It’s been a rough year.” Any remaining tension vanished. He cast a glance at the two guards watching them, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Would you like to catch up? Somewhere that isn’t here?”

Yes. After watching Kianthe and Fauston, Reyna wanted nothing more than to reconnect with Venne. Maybe this week was one of love in all forms.

“Meet me in the forest to the southwest.” Reyna lifted her chin. “Bring wine. Apparently, I’m supposed to have a party the night before my wedding.”

Venne snorted. “And I the best one to celebrate with? What a shame.”

“It’s my wedding eve, and I say you’re perfect company.” Reyna spun on her heel, calling over her shoulder, “Don’t be long.”

Venne chuckled.

Reyna strolled to the forest directly, weaving through the wedding venue. The magic Kianthe left was still holding, and the wooden chairs gleamed in an almost unnatural way, bracing themselves for a storm even into the clear evening. Marlow had draped flowers along the aisle, pinning them to two posts that framed the dais, and enormous bouquets now adorned the archway.

Stunning. Reyna paused, running her hands over the raised floor of the dais. A flutter of nervous energy had her chuckling, and she whistled. On cue, Ponder landed lithely beside her. The griffon chittered, nudging Reyna’s arm.

“We’re doing the right thing, right?”

Ponder chittered, fluffing her wings.

Not very helpful, but about what Reyna expected. She scratched the griffon’s chin. Ponder was large now, almost eye level, with a wingspan only slightly smaller than her father’s. Reyna had seen the other hatchlings grow, and in her wholly unbiased opinion, Ponder was the most stunning of her siblings.

A jagged scar cut across the griffon’s forehead, the only remaining evidence of the alchemy spell that nearly killed Reyna last winter. Reyna brushed it, feeling the way the feathers packed neatly around it. It wasn’t very large, but it still made Reyna sad.

“You’ll stick with me anyway, won’t you?” Reyna pressed a kiss to her little forehead.

Ponder nibbled her bun, her beak pulling out several strands at a time.

“Oh, you’re going to ruin my hair!” Happiness spread through Reyna as she shoved the griffon away.

Ponder chirped and leapt back, wings spread, as if Reyna might chase her into the skies. Always ready to play, her kid. Reyna laughed and ran after her, and Ponder leapt into the air, circling again.

“Someday I’ll be up there too.” Reyna cast one more glance at the wedding venue. She wasn’t sure what would happen tomorrow, but she was glad to have excellent friends at her side.

Ponder flitted above her as she continued toward the forest. The griffon kept dropping pine cones at her feet, bounding along for a few awkward steps, and then leaping after a pine cone when Reyna threw it. It kept them occupied until she reached the forest and entertained her while she waited for Venne.

She didn’t have to wait long. He’d entered the forest’s eastern edge and cut through the trees, finding her in the clearing where Kianthe had expelled the dragon magic a year ago. It was still unnaturally empty, and he dropped to the ground beside her, leaning against a tree.

He’d come unarmed, which made Reyna inordinately pleased. There was no truer sign of trust than a Queensguard without a weapon.

A visible one, anyway.

“So.” Venne glanced at her, then laughed awkwardly. “Uh, how’ve you been?”

Pleasantries. Considering their childhood, it made Reyna’s heart twist. She knew they had some things to repair, but that didn’t mean they were starting from square one. Instead of answering, she pushed to her feet and gestured at the inky sky. “Have you heard about my griffon, Ponder?”

“Your what—” He swallowed his remark as Ponder landed lithely in the center of the clearing, bounding over with the pine cone in her mouth. It was getting … bedraggled. She could hold things very delicately, but her beak was still as strong as an eagle’s—and most birds had saliva.

Reyna picked it up with two fingers.

Meanwhile, Ponder twisted her head, watching Venne with golden eyes. Her talons flexed in the dirt, and she appraised him like she might a fish in a lake. In fact, a low chittering echoed in her throat, and she lowered her head, folding her wings tightly against her body.

“Ponder,” Reyna said sharply.

The griffon startled out of her predatory stance.

“This is Venne. He’s a friend.” She emphasized that for both their benefit. “Come say hello.”

Ponder lifted her head again, cocking it inquisitively. Venne went ramrod still as she stepped closer. He tensed further when she nibbled his clothes, the leather of his boots, before pushing to her hind legs and bracing her talons on his shoulders to inspect his hair.

“Ah—” Venne laughed nervously, holding his arms out. “Am I doing it right?”

Reyna laughed. It was the first time in years that she’d laughed earnestly in Venne’s company.

It felt good.

“Yeah. You’re doing it right.” Reyna scratched behind Ponder’s wings, a spot the griffon had trouble reaching, and coaxed her back to the ground. She handed off the slimy pine cone to Venne. “Go ahead. Throw it. As far as you can, please, or this’ll be a short game.”

Venne glanced at her, then at Ponder, then shrugged. “This is a weird night.” And he threw the pine cone. It vanished into the tall grass.

Ponder leapt after it, and the tension was effectively shattered. As they settled back on the ground, Reyna was smiling. “She’s Visk’s daughter. Kianthe’s griffon. She’s almost big enough to ride.”

“I thought only mages had griffons.” Venne raised an eyebrow, admiration in his voice.

Reyna laughed. “I was lucky.”

“I’ll say.” Venne hesitated, then stretched his arms above his head. “Okay. Let’s start fresh. I … misunderstood last year. About Kianthe. But you’re important to me, so she’s important to me. I want to know how you met, how you started dating, how she … convinced you to leave.” That last part was quiet, and he averted his eyes.

Reyna squeezed his arm. “Okay.”

And she told him their love story.

By the end, the only sound was the crickets chirping, and the occasional flutter of redspars in the nearby pines. Ponder had grown bored with fetch and seemed to realize Venne wasn’t going to attack, because she’d curled into a large ball behind Reyna. Her wing made a good blanket in the night chill, and her fur was soft against Reyna’s back.

Venne, meanwhile, had relaxed against his tree, a wry smile on his face.

“Damn. I never stood a chance, huh.”

“If it makes you feel better, I do still love you. Just … in a different way.” Reyna rubbed the back of her thumbnail absently. “Have you met anyone else? A year’s a long time.”

Venne’s shoulders dropped. “It is a long time. To be honest, I spent half of it fuming.” Venne drew a slow breath, embarrassment and sadness in his tone now. “Then a season dating three people: two court folk and one soldier. But none of them were quite right. I think … I think I need some time to discover my passions. You occupied my thoughts for a long time.”

It made Reyna uncomfortable to hear, but she wasn’t surprised. She offered a sympathetic smile. “I had to discover some things about myself outside the palace, too. Apparently, I’m fond of acting, and griffon training has been an exploration.”

“Well, that last one shows. Is … ah, is Lilac retiring?” Venne asked.

Reyna’s mount would like nothing more, if her time in Hansen’s stables was any indicator. Lilac had been born a warhorse, but she always seemed happiest meandering in a pasture. Reyna shrugged. “She’s earned it, after all the dragon attacks and cross-Realm trips.”

“That’s true.”

They fell into a natural silence. But that just led to the real reason Reyna approached the Queendom encampment tonight. She wanted nothing more than to enjoy her time with Venne, but this was bigger than them.

With regret, she pulled out the Queensguard amulet, flicking it to him. “By the way. Did one of the guard lose their token?”

He squinted at it. Surprise flickered across his face for just a moment.

Interesting. Reyna couldn’t ignore the fact that this might be Venne’s—although with his limitation to the Grand Palace, Reyna doubted Tilaine would trust him enough. She watched carefully, awaiting his response.

Venne offered a wry look. “You know, the shift from conversation to interrogation isn’t subtle.”

“Please. I am perfectly subtle when I want to be—but you deserve better than that.” Reyna pushed off Ponder. The griffon continued to sleep, her lion’s tail swishing absently, her hind paws twitching in a dream. Reyna crossed her legs, leaning over them intently. “That amulet was found on the body of a Queensguard in Leonol—one on special assignment. She stole it off her murderer.”

The words settled between them, and Venne stared, jaw unhinged. It was genuine surprise—which had relief settling on Reyna’s shoulders. Venne was terrible at lying, and it was a comfort to know he was nowhere near this debacle.

But he seemed just as concerned about these implications.

“This … is a heavy accusation, Reyna.”

“I agree.” She didn’t say more.

Venne turned the amulet over, thinking. After a moment, his face paled. “When did this happen?”

He knew something. Reyna kept her voice level, stating facts. “In the beginning of the year. Last season.”

“Shit.” Venne stared hard at the amulet. Anger filtered into his voice. “Balt died around then.”

Reyna stiffened. Venne and his cousin were close—on days Venne wasn’t working alongside Reyna, he’d usually been in the forest west of the Capital, hunting with Balt. The other Queensguard was a few years older, and a bit of a goofball. Reyna had just assumed Balt had stayed at the Grand Palace during this excursion, or maybe was deep in the Queensguard encampment.

But no.

She drew a shaking breath, heart twisting in sadness. “Oh, Venne. I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about. Gods, you should have seen how excited he was when Queen Tilaine picked him out of a lineup for a ‘special assignment.’ He came back from Leonol injured, but wouldn’t say how it happened.” Venne clenched his eyes shut. “The shitty thing is, I thought he was recovering. He seemed in really good spirits. But I went into the medical wing one day, and the doctor told me he’d taken a turn and—and died.”

“That was it?” Reyna had to swallow her indignation, her fury. “Did they show you the body?”

“Briefly. No sign of new injuries. ‘Just infection,’ they said. But it didn’t look like infection. Everything about it seemed … off.”

They both stared at the amulet.

“You don’t think…” Venne trailed off, like he couldn’t voice it.

“I absolutely think that.” Reyna was done making excuses for their sovereign. She held Venne’s gaze and spoke the treasonous truth: “Tilaine sent Balt to murder Victoria. Balt returned, but figured out the truth—who he’d been sent to kill. Tilaine had him killed to hide it.”

Venne was shaking his head before she finished. “Gods, Reyna. Do you know what you’re saying?”

Reyna drew a slow breath, tilting the amulet so it glinted off the moon’s meager light. Her voice trembled. “I’m saying this needs to end. Everything Tilaine has forced from us, everyone the royal family has taken from us. My mother. My uncle. Balt. It has to stop.”

Once upon a time, a statement like that would have had either of them drawing their poisoned swords. Now, Venne stared hard at the amulet, silent and cold. “Why was a Queensguard on special assignment in Leonol? What the hells is going on?”

That was the moment Reyna knew she had him. Her old partner, back at her side.

“I’m going to explain what’s been happening in Tawney, Venne. And then I’m going to ask a massive favor of you and the Queensguard.” She clenched her fists in her lap. “Balt and Victoria deserve justice. We all do.”

His gaze hardened. “Tell me.”

26

Kianthe

The sun had barely filtered through the bedroom curtains before Kianthe felt the subtle movement of Reyna rising from bed. When Kianthe managed to lift her head off the pillow, her partner was already slipping into a simple gown, carefully pinning up her hair.

Ugh. Up already? She’d only returned home a little while ago.

Kianthe sighed heavily, burrowing under the blankets. “The wedding is at a reasonable time, Rain. I made sure of it. Come back to bed.”

Reyna pressed a kiss to her forehead, squeezed her hand, and murmured, “I wasn’t sleeping anyway. Take your time, love. I’ll be in front.”

She slipped out the bedroom door, closing it quietly behind her.

Kianthe tried to go back to sleep, but it was too late. Today was arguably the most important day of her life, and the swarm of anxious butterflies multiplying in her stomach seemed determined to keep that fact on her mind. With a groan, the mage flung off her blankets and staggered into the washroom.

There were people in New Leaf when she finally strolled into the main part of the repurposed barn. James had returned to Feo’s compound last night. Patol had left too, shortly after.

But Nurt was unconscious in one of the armchairs. Matild had scrunched onto a longer two-seater, snoring away. And Tarly was drooling against the rug by the hearth. In a surprising turn of events, Fauston and Dreggs had appeared just as the party got started, although only Fauston had stayed. He was pressed into one of their booths, his cheek pressed against the table.

Reyna was puttering away behind the counter, making bags of what looked like a very strong black tea. She glanced at Kianthe and pressed a finger to her lips, offering a wry smile. “Fun night, I see,” she whispered.

She must have stepped around them in the early hours of the morning—but by that point Kianthe had been fast asleep in their bedroom.

Kianthe rubbed the back of her neck. “Ah, it was something.” She hadn’t been drinking, but everyone else had, and the night had dissolved in the best way. “Nurt can outdrink Dreggs, turns out. And I’m fairly sure Fauston is falling for James.”

“Aww,” Reyna breathed. She seemed distracted. “Black tea okay?”

“What happened?” Kianthe asked instead, leaning against the back counter with her arms crossed.

Reyna glanced over her shoulder, sighed, and whispered, “Venne’s cousin was sent to kill Victoria. After he returned, Tilaine had him murdered.”

“Shit.”

“Mmm. Venne and I spent a long time discussing logistics, but I expect the Queensguard is on our side today.”

“Well, that’s something.” Kianthe squinted at her. “What else?”

Reyna frowned, distracted. “What do you mean, what else?”

“Rain. You look like you swallowed a lemon.”

That seemed to shock her partner out of her trance. She laughed, turning back to the mugs of tea. In typical Reyna fashion, she was steeping drinks for everyone—a lovely wake-up call. Considering it was their wedding, someone should be bringing Reyna tea, but Kianthe digressed.

“Just … worried, I suppose. Everything could change today. And…” Reyna ducked her head. “I rather like my life with you as it is.”

Kianthe understood that apprehension on an intimate level. She’d felt it the day the Stone of Seeing infused her with power—the day she realized nothing would ever be the same. But “the same” turned out to be very dull in comparison to the rich life she’d discovered after obtaining her title.

She wrapped her arms around Reyna’s shoulders, pulling her close. With their bodies pressed together, Kianthe could keep her voice at a low murmur. “Love, even if things change … This? Us, and our lives here? We’ll do our damnedest to keep the important parts. Okay?”

“Do you really think so?”

Kianthe smirked. “You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried. And we have a tentative plan for daily life after—one that keeps you in Tawney and lets Tessalyn take center stage in the Capital. We just need her permission for it.”

She could see Reyna considering that. “To establish her parliament.”

“Yep.”

“Okay,” Reyna said, and laughed when Kianthe kissed her forehead. She lifted her head for a better kiss, a proper one, and Kianthe was all too happy to oblige—except someone yelped.

They separated like they’d been burned.

“Not before the ceremony.” Matild’s voice was muddled with sleep, and her tight braids fell haphazardly over her face—but she pushed them back and glared anyway. “You two shouldn’t even see each other today. Go on, get!”

Her stern tone had awoken the others, who rose in various stages of grogginess. Most squinted blearily, blinking against the dim light of the ever-flame and patches of morning sun as though it pained them. Nurt grumbled something and staggered out the door, looking a little green.

“Kianthe, you’re preparing at the house with your parents. Fauston, get her there. Elysia is doing her hair.” For someone who’d just woken up, Matild seemed far more alert than she should be. She pushed off the tiny two-seater, stretching, and nudged her husband with her boot. “But before they leave, Tarly, aren’t you done with that present yet?”

He flopped an arm toward the storage room. “Stashed it in there last night.” His eyes drifted shut again the moment she turned away.

Matild grumbled, stalking to the storage room.

Reyna offered a mug. “Tea?”

“In a minute,” Matild replied.

Reyna and Kianthe exchanged amused glances, and Kianthe followed to help. The meticulously rolled bundle of cloth and twine was barely recognizable as a sword, parked unassumingly on a shelf beside a sack of flour. In the privacy of the storage room, Matild said, “You could always gift it to her after the ceremony.”

Kianthe winced. “I have a feeling she’ll need it sooner than that.”

Matild nodded grimly and handed her the sword.

In the main barn, Fauston had trudged to a proper table, and Tarly seemed to realize he’d miss the handoff if he didn’t pull himself up. He slumped beside Fauston, numbly accepting the mug of tea and the scone Reyna placed before him.

“For you, my love,” Kianthe crooned, waking up properly for this. Excitement raced through her as she knelt before Reyna, presenting the bundled sword. “I have a secret. Your sword didn’t break by accident.”

“What?” Reyna gasped. “Nooo.”

Sarcasm.

Kianthe should have known. She rolled her eyes. “Well, I went through quite a lot to get this ready and had it made by our very own blacksmith. I hope it’s what you want.”

Reyna’s gaze was fond, drifting from the gift as she squeezed Kianthe’s arm. “I already have what I want.”

Behind Kianthe, Matild muttered, “Oh, Gods. Tarly, if I’m ever that sappy, just assume I’m bewitched.”

“And probably not by me,” Tarly replied.

Matild snapped her fingers in agreement.

Reyna took the sword, setting it on the table to undo the wrapping. The cloth fell away to reveal a stunning scabbard, custom-made to fit the blade. Black leather, perfectly cut and stitched in gold, with a swooping, cursive R stamped into it.

It looked expensive.

No, it looked royal.

Kianthe grinned. “Nice touch.”

“I called in a few friends,” Tarly replied with a smirk, taking a deep swig of his tea.

Matild bounced a bit. “Pull it out. You’re going to love this.”

“I already love this,” Reyna replied quietly, adoration in her tone. But she dutifully stepped away from them and drew the blade. The dark steel had her gasping. “What kind of metal is this?”

“Meteorite.” Kianthe’s smug tone was almost intolerable, even to herself. “I figured nothing would signify your dedication to the Realm more than a blade that encompasses the Stars, Stone of Seeing, and Gods.”

Reyna quirked an eyebrow, smoothly assessing the sword’s weight. She tested the grip in both hands, lifted the blade to see its width, checked the edge against her fingertip. “How do the Gods factor in?”

“I had a priestess from the Capital bless it before Tarly smelted it down.”

That made Reyna stop short. Her brows drew together, and she swallowed hard. “Oh. That’s … wow, Key. Thank you.” She glanced at the sword again, drawing a shaky breath. “This is lovely. Thank you all.”

She was going to cry—and Reyna didn’t cry often. Kianthe would have hugged her, but considering she was holding a very dangerous blade, decided to politely ignore it instead. It was a rare thing, Reyna letting her walls fall, but those were the moments Kianthe cherished.

“Do you like it?” Kianthe couldn’t resist asking.

“I love it.” Her words were thick.

Tarly and Matild exchanged pleased glances, and Kianthe grinned.

Reyna cleared her throat, swiftly sheathed the blade again. Then she tucked the scabbard under her arm and stepped back to the table to squeeze Kianthe’s arm. “Aren’t you supposed to be heading back to your mother’s?”

Well. That didn’t last long. Kianthe snorted.

Fauston, who’d been watching with half interest as he woke up, collected his scone. “Probably. Come on, Kianthe. Let’s see if we can do something with that rat’s nest you call hair.”

“Gee, thanks,” Kianthe replied, following him out the door.

“Thank you for my wedding present, darling,” Reyna chimed. Then, quieter, to Matild: “You know it’s true love when your partner gets you a marriage sword.”

“I do indeed know that,” Matild replied.

Kianthe snorted as the doors slid closed behind them.

Everything happened in a blur after that. The quiet wedding preparation moments, when Kianthe’s mother braided her hair and helped her into a long dress—which somehow felt restricting and airy at the same time—and then pressed a fist to her lips to stave off tears. How she whispered, “You’re a beautiful bride, dear. Reyna is a lucky woman,” and there wasn’t a hint of malice in her tone—just pride.

The way her father clapped her shoulder and said, “You did good, kid. Just remember that you’re both family now—and family visits. Tell Reyna we’d love to have her stop by Jallin sometime.”

How Fauston did a double take when Kianthe finally stepped out of the bedroom, lowering his book to whistle. “Damn, Kianthe,” he drawled.

She swelled. It wasn’t often she was the showstopper, physically speaking, but in that moment, Kianthe felt beautiful and so, so loved.

After that, there was a lot of waiting. First, at her parents’ house. Then, as folks from Tawney found their seats alongside pirates and Queensguard, filling the ceremony venue, there was waiting at the local inn. Matild bustled about, handling every facet of communication, but Reyna was nowhere to be seen.

When Kianthe asked about it, Matild waved a hand in dismissal. “Tarly and James are with her. I think they’re testing out the sword.” The midwife rolled her eyes and ushered Kianthe back into her respective room.

Elysia left at some point, and Kianthe tried not to be nervous about how that must mean they were getting close.

Suddenly, everything leading up to this—the agonizing days of planning and stress—felt too short.

Suddenly, Kianthe wished they could reset to a simpler time, to a moment under a pinyon tree, whispering about future plans and their love for each other. Alone, just her and Reyna, the way they always wanted.

But that time was long gone.

Kianthe’s leg bounced in her chair. Magnus chuckled and said, “It’ll be fine. It’s just a wedding.”

But it wasn’t, and he didn’t even know it.

And then, finally, Diarn Feo poked their head into the room. They paused at Kianthe and cleared their throat.

“Ah, you look nice.”

“A compliment, coming from you? I must look near divine.” Kianthe clung to the normalcy.

Diarn Feo didn’t oblige. “Funny. But it’s time.” And they offered Kianthe a weighted stare.

She just wanted this day to be over. With her stomach in knots, she pushed to her feet, dusting off her gown. Wondering how it’d be torn in a fight if she had to call on her magic. Her words were resigned. “Everyone’s waiting for us?”

“Everyone,” Feo replied simply.

Well. At least Tilaine was exactly where they needed her.

Kianthe looped her arm through her father’s and followed Diarn Feo into the sunshine. It was midday, with beautiful weather and a light breeze. Overhead—so high they were clearly being coaxed by Ponder—Gold Coin and Pill Bug soared. It was a small comfort, knowing that wherever the baby dragons were, their adult sitter wasn’t far behind.

Not that they could count on the dragons to busy themselves with human affairs. But at least the baby dragons wouldn’t be pulled into the chaos.

Feo paused beside Sasua’s house, ensuring Kianthe remained partially hidden in the alley. “Wait until we introduce you.” They nodded to Magnus and strolled around the chairs to the dais, where Lord Wylan waited. The guests were plentiful, easily numbering in the hundreds, and their buzz of conversation quieted as Diarn Feo took their place.

Kianthe wasn’t looking at them. Instead, she squinted past the sunshine to see—Queen Tilaine. The sovereign had claimed a space separate from the other guests, adjacent to the altar on the venue’s eastern side. The Queensguard standing at attention had erected a sunshade in the form of a fancy cloth, which they’d pinned to four wooden poles.

The result truly made her chair look like a throne.

And worse, Tilaine had chosen a dress so absurdly intricate that it might imply she was the one marrying. Its deep crimson hue was eye-catching in all the worst ways. Perched atop her perfectly curled golden hair was an equally golden crown, so large that no one could mistake her identity.

“Is that the queen?” Magnus raised his eyebrows, impressed.

Well. Apparently some people could mistake her.

“Yep,” Kianthe replied with a sigh. “Whatever happens here, do me a favor? Stay behind the pirates.”

Magnus frowned. “What?”

She waved him off, setting her jaw. One last cursory look to see if Reyna was nearby—but of course, she wasn’t. Matild would have her hidden away until the exact right moment. Butterflies fluttered in Kianthe’s stomach as she pulled back her shoulders.

Lord Wylan raised his hands, and the silence deepened. When he spoke, it was with the volume of someone used to addressing crowds.

“Welcome, everyone. Today, we gather to witness a historic event: the marriage of Kianthe, the Arcandor, the Mage of Ages, to Reyna, a Queendom citizen and tea maker.”

He didn’t mention her Queensguard affiliation, which made Kianthe smugly pleased. A quick glance at Tilaine showed the queen’s lips had tilted downward, displeasure set in her eyes. But she didn’t move to intervene—not with the councilmembers on the opposite side of the procession facing her down.

“This ceremony is the greatest example of Realm-wide cooperation.” Diarn Feo spoke now, lifting their chin as they gestured at the western seats. “We are pleased to host six of the nine councilmembers, myself included. Her Excellency, Queen Tilaine, has arrived to represent the Queendom interest. And the board of regents, from Leonol, sent several of their top scholars to observe.”

Now he gestured at Tessalyn and James, mingling among a few other folks in green cloaks.

Kianthe nearly flinched. That was a bold move, placing Tessalyn in direct line of sight of Tilaine. Tessalyn shouldn’t be attending this ceremony at all—although Kianthe couldn’t fault her curiosity. Still, it was absurd to dress her in traditional Leonolan robes and parade her around.

And yet, Kianthe begrudgingly admitted it might be the smartest move. Tilaine wasn’t expecting Tessalyn to be so close, and the queen’s eyes barely lingered on the woman now. She seemed to have noted the Leonolan robes and discounted the “scholars” just as fast.

Lord Wylan seamlessly took over. “Today, we seek the blessing of the Stone of Seeing, the Stars above, and the Gods themselves. Arcandor, please join us on the dais.”

Magnus drew a quiet breath, looping his arm through his daughter’s. “Here we go. You ready?”

A cold determination settled in Kianthe’s chest. She had to be ready … for Reyna’s sake. She nodded.

“Always.”

Together, they walked to the dais. Murmurs arose from her friends and neighbors, comments on her beauty and grace, but Kianthe barely heard them. Instead, she focused on the flowers over the altar—and the magic that flowed through them. It gave her a small comfort, calmed her thudding heart.

At the front of the dais, her father clasped his hand over hers, pressed a kiss to her cheek, and whispered, “Congratulations, Kianthe. You’ve made us so proud.” Then, with a smile, he took a seat beside the councilmembers, on the venue’s western side.

Tears sprung to Kianthe’s eyes. She was so focused on the task at hand, she hadn’t expected to get emotional over this. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and walked past Queen Tilaine, climbing the steps to the raised platform.

Tilaine’s gaze felt like hot iron on her back.

Kianthe took the designated spot in the dais’s center, under the altar.

From her left shoulder, Diarn Feo called to the crowd: “The Arcandor has sacrificed her life and magic to protect the Realm. As a Sheparan citizen in her youth, and a Magicary representative now, she melds the best of the Realm’s western half.”

Now, Lord Wylan straightened. “I would like to welcome—”

“Stop.”

Everything froze as Queen Tilaine pushed to her feet. She swept onto the dais with confidence, exuding regal grace, like she hadn’t just interrupted a wedding. Shocked murmurs arose from the chairs.

It was a struggle to hold her tongue, but Kianthe managed it.

Barely.

“If a councilmember felt it appropriate to announce the Arcandor, then Reyna deserves an introduction from her queen.” Tilaine’s voice was smooth as silk. She gestured Lord Wylan off the dais, and he bowed deeply, allowing her access.

Kianthe didn’t miss the irritation in his eyes, though.

Queen Tilaine took the center of the dais, nearly blocking Kianthe from view. She smiled warmly at the crowd. “We all know the Arcandor represents the best of the Realm’s western half. However, Reyna is the extension of a divine queen, blessed by the Gods to rule the greatest nation in existence.”

Wow.

“Reyna, join us.”

On cue, Reyna stepped out from New Leaf Tomes and Tea. Instead of a gown, she’d chosen formal trousers, black and perfectly tailored, with a flowing white shirt and a black corset. A white dress jacket completed the ensemble, one that ended at her hips and was adorned with golden tassels and buttons. At her belt was the meteorite sword, its scabbard a gorgeous addition to an already stunning outfit.

It was far classier than Kianthe’s simple white gown. In fact, it looked … regal. All Reyna was missing was the crown.

If Queen Tilaine noticed that her ballroom dress had been outdone, she didn’t remark on it.

Elysia stood arm in arm with Reyna, which had Kianthe swallowing past a sudden lump in her throat. They looked happy. Reyna deserved this—a family she could finally call her own.

Kianthe’s mother was smiling bright as she escorted Reyna down the aisle. They walked slowly, and the hush that had overtaken the space was almost reverential. At least, until Queen Tilaine shattered it.

“Reyna’s unity with the Mage of Ages signifies a new era for the Queendom.”

Here we go, Kianthe thought dryly.

“In the past, magic has been hoarded by the Magicary, our citizens punished for the lack of worship to a rock.” Queen Tilaine’s disdain was evident, and it made Kianthe bristle. She opened her mouth—but Feo squeezed her arm, a pointed reminder.

The stupider she sounded now, the more reasonable their coup would seem.

Kianthe grumbled internally but kept her face blank.

“But this marriage will shatter that. No longer can elemental magic abandon our citizens, if one of my venerated Queensguard is tied to the Mage of Ages herself. By allowing this union, I am ushering in an era of prosperity—of magic—within the Queendom.”

Kianthe wanted to face-palm.

Reyna had finally reached the dais, and everyone watched her, awkwardly waiting for a cue. No one wanted to ruin the wedding by voicing their irritation, and the Queendom citizens especially were too scared to meet their sovereign’s gaze.

Everything hinged on Reyna.

She silently removed the jacket from her shoulders, folding it and handing it to Elysia. Kianthe’s mother squeezed her hand, tucking the jacket against her chest as she took the seat beside her husband.

Reyna, meanwhile, turned to the monarch.

“I couldn’t agree more, Tilaine.”

It was the first time she’d ever forsaken the woman’s title.

Queen Tilaine’s face splotched with red. The Queendom citizens gasped, and the Sheparans murmured approval.

But Reyna just smiled.

“We will face an era of prosperity within the Queendom. But you do not control my future, my marriage, or my wife’s magic. In fact, as of this moment … you do not control anything at all.”

27

Reyna

The ceremony wasn’t going exactly as planned, but what the hells. Reyna was flexible.

Irritation had simmered in Reyna’s chest the moment Tilaine began to speak—and it solidified everything she’d suppressed for years. How often had this queen inserted herself into Reyna’s life? How often had she taken credit for Reyna’s accomplishments, only to simultaneously disown her failures? What kind of future could Reyna even have if Tilaine remained in power?

A bleak one, that was certain. And if her talk of magic was any indicator, after she and Kianthe “found” and “killed” Tilaine’s half sister, the sovereign’s next demand would be that mages were born in the Queendom.

It was something Kianthe couldn’t control, but Tilaine would never accept that as an excuse.

Gods or no, her reign ended here.

“I am formally declaring you unfit to rule,” Reyna added, just in case there was any confusion. Behind her, conversation buzzed like a swarm of bees, but she kept her eyes locked on Tilaine. “You do not deserve to be queen. I challenge your title, your power, and your sanity.”

“You?” Tilaine scoffed, although her eyes darted to her Queensguard. They were clustered behind her makeshift throne, too far to help. “You are no one. A peasant.”

Reyna quirked an eyebrow. “I thought I was your ‘venerated Queensguard.’”

She was actually enjoying this.

“Queensguard or not, you cannot challenge me—”

Now Tessalyn swept to her feet. She was still clad in the Leonolan robes—long green fabric that fell to her ankles, wrapped tightly around her waist, with a hood partially obscuring her face. But when she undid the tie and the robes fell, her outfit beneath was befitting any royal.

In fact, it closely mirrored several of Tilaine’s gowns.

Tilaine’s eyes widened. There was no question she recognized Tessalyn instantly now that she could see her face—and with their shared features, it wasn’t difficult to identify why. Panic and rage seeped into Tilaine’s voice. “You.”

“Me.” Tessalyn crossed her arms. She stood beside Reyna, confident and capable. James, as always, remained her shadow, but his hand rested on his sword as he stared down the Queensguard.

A few rows down, the Dastardly Pirate Dreggs stepped out from the row of chairs, one hand on their sword, their eyes on their kid. Reyna half expected an intervention, but they stayed silent, almost smug, clearly letting Tessalyn handle this interaction.

“Hello, sister. I don’t believe we’ve formally met.”

“Never call me that,” Tilaine hissed.

Now Reyna smoothly injected. “Why, Tilaine? Both of you are Queen Eren’s blood.”

The muttered conversation shifted into an uproar. Most of the attendees had no idea of Tessalyn’s true identity, and now they debated in tones of shock and awe. A screeching overhead proved that Ponder had taken note of the ceremony, although she kept her distance.

Tilaine stiffened like she’d been struck with lightning. Her face was pale, her mouth gaping like a fish. And yet, her disbelief shifted to abject fury in a breath. She spun on Kianthe.

“Arcandor. Kill her.”

“Or what?” Kianthe examined her nails, lounging against the altar’s wooden framing.

“Or I will murder your wife,” Tilaine snarled.

Reyna glanced to her left, at the Queensguard. The final gambit. Already, the pirates in the crowd had risen to their feet, shedding their Tawnean disguises and gripping hidden weapons. Dreggs beckoned for Mister Mom, forming a barrier between the guard and those who couldn’t fight. Serina and Bobbie were among their ranks, moving to the councilmembers to protect them.

The Queensguard were stationed around the eastern edge, but none of them moved.

Venne stepped forward, his arms folded, and gave Reyna a bare nod.

Relief swept through Reyna, with satisfaction on its heels. She chuckled, rocking back on her feet.

“How quickly your whim changes. Just a few moments ago, I was your prized possession. Although I’m very curious who will be tasked with this unsightly order.” She didn’t draw her sword, although her hand rested on it. “Perhaps you should ask my old cohorts whether they want to kill another of their own.”

“Balt did everything you asked,” Venne said, anger in his own voice. His eyes were dark, his body tense as a bowstring. “You forced him to betray us all. He killed a fellow Queensguard in Leonol on your orders.”

James made a choking sound, but Reyna couldn’t attend to him. Not yet. She kept her eyes on Tilaine—the unpredictable one.

The woman with everything to lose.

Venne’s voice dropped to a snarl. “My cousin was loyal. He did everything you asked. And while he was recovering in the ‘safety’ of the Grand Palace, you killed him.”

“He didn’t do everything,” Tilaine spat, losing herself for a moment. She gestured furiously at Tessalyn. “He was supposed to capture her.”

It was enough of an admission for the Queensguard. Teck and Carlon, Tilaine’s senior guards, moved to stand beside Venne, framing his shoulders with equal scowls. They were not going to help Tilaine, and it was glaringly obvious.

Tilaine started to shake, her words spitting. “Enough. Scatter, if you’re so disloyal. You know your fate. My spies will—”

“Oh, I think you’ll find your entire network is unresponsive, Tilaine,” Locke said, appearing from the crowd. He dusted his shirt, almost casual.

Tilaine faltered, eyes narrowing. “So this is where you disappeared.”

“This is where I disappeared.” Locke’s tone held a lifetime of servitude, a lifetime weight of unspeakable acts he didn’t condone. His tone was clear, concise, and furious. “Your mother was bad enough, but you are an absolute disaster. As spymaster of the Queendom, I am more than pleased to declare that my spies are also tired of your antics. You lost our respect a long time ago.”

It was the final testimony they needed.

Diarn Feo stepped forward. “I speak on behalf of the entire council of Shepara when I say that we second Reyna’s statement. A ruler’s throne shouldn’t be built on the bodies of its citizens.”

“Agreed,” one of the other councilmembers replied. He was older, his face red with anger. “We’ve overlooked this for too long. The Queendom needs a new ruler.”

“The board of regents is also in support of this idea. We did not realize Tessalyn, one of our prized students, is a Queendom refugee—and a royal one at that. Considering how carelessly your family has crossed into Leonol, and how often, it is apparent that we require change to remain neutral allies.” The Leonolan board member lifted her chin, eyes flashing.

Reyna regained her attention. “It would seem the leaders of the Realm have spoken.”

“Y-You cannot usurp me. The lords of the Queendom will never approve.” Tilaine snarled, but she backed up anyway. Her eyes darted to her Queensguard, who wore matching glares, to Reyna and Tessalyn, to Kianthe.

But the few lords they had in the audience had gone suspiciously silent.

“I don’t believe you have the support you expected.” Lord Wylan reappeared on the western side of the dais, near Diarn Feo.

Reyna rested a hand on her sword’s hilt. “Surrender peacefully, Tilaine, and relinquish your control. You have squandered your allies with petty tantrums—and a monarch cannot survive without them.”

“I don’t need allies,” Tilaine hissed, reaching into the folds of her dress. She was still shaking, physically trembling. Her crazed eyes locked on Tessalyn. “I don’t need anyone. I have the blessing of the Gods themselves, and the God of Mercy will not forsake me.”

And she lunged off the dais at her half sister, the glint of a hidden blade flashing in the sunlight. Tessalyn barely had time to flinch. Dreggs shouted, but it was lost in the cacophony.

Reyna acted on impulse.

Nerves singing with energy, she slammed into Tilaine’s side, and they both crashed to the ground. James dragged Tessa out of the way, pushing her into the protection of the pirates, but Reyna barely saw it. She and Tilaine grappled for a moment, and then the former queen rolled, fueled by sheer desperation.

The knife lashed at Reyna.

At the same moment, Kianthe surged forward—and for a brief, terrifying instance, Reyna thought she’d throw herself into Tilaine’s path.

In her distraction, she didn’t block well enough. Reyna hissed as the knife’s blade bit into her shoulder, eerily close to where she’d been cut a year ago—in that ballroom, facing an assassin while Tilaine smiled demurely. A dozen emotions swirled inside her, viciously conforming to one thought:

Never again.

Reyna’s entire world narrowed. She grabbed Tilaine’s wrist, wrenching it backward with enough force that the woman had to drop the blade. Tilaine watched it fall, eyes widening, then punched at Reyna instead.

Reyna dodged, gripping Tilaine’s arms and rolling them away from the weapon. It put Tilaine on top, and a vicious glee overtook the woman’s face as she loomed over Reyna.

“You will suffer for years after what you’ve done,” Tilaine snarled, lashing at Reyna’s eyes with those perfectly sharpened nails.

A screech overhead—followed by a guttural dragon roar.

And then, Tilaine was plucked off Reyna.

It wasn’t Ponder; she still wasn’t strong enough to carry someone, not yet. Visk was nearby, but he wasn’t the one who’d taken liberties. Reyna blinked as she watched Pill Bug beating its wings to lift Tilaine into the sky.

Pill Bug. Their demure little baby dragon, the one interested in bugs and children, curious enough to stalk Fauston and meek enough to slink away when chastised. Reyna couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

Tilaine clearly couldn’t either. She screamed, and it pierced the air and silenced the noise of the crowd. Reyna pushed to her feet, gripping her bleeding arm. Tilaine had obviously lost her blade, but she writhed in Pill Bug’s hold, thrashing against its claws and slamming her fist into its scales.

Pill Bug seemed annoyed.

Actually, Pill Bug seemed angry.

A snarl boiled in the back of its throat, and it pivoted its long neck to examine its prey. Reyna didn’t think the baby dragons could use fire magic yet, but it was clearly prepared to attempt it today.

Ponder flitted around the dragon, chittering, screeching, but Pill Bug ignored her for once.

Gold Coin, however, wanted a piece of the action. It landed on its sibling, knocking Pill Bug’s ascent off course. It caused a childlike spat, where the two dragons wrestled for control of a new toy. Except the “toy” was screaming, crying, her ballroom dress shredded and muddy and her face as pale as parchment.

“Shit, Rain. Are you okay?” Kianthe appeared at Reyna’s side, eyes wide.

“I’m fine. Where’s Visk? We have to get Tilaine.” Blood stained her white shirt, but Reyna only offered her throbbing shoulder a cursory glance before turning toward the sky.

Kianthe pressed two fingers to her lips and whistled sharply. Taken aback, Ponder stopped harassing the baby dragons. Visk—who had been roosting in one of the nearby pine trees during the ceremony and only entered the sky when this chaos happened—pivoted instantly toward Kianthe.

Meanwhile, Pill Bug had wrestled its sibling off and retained its prize.

Tilaine was a bare speck now, so high in the sky.

This was a Gods-damned disaster.

Far in the distance, a full-grown dragon rumbled, spreading massive wings. The babysitter. It took off from the rim with a cloud of dust, and Kianthe swallowed a groan. “This is just getting better and better.”

“I’ll handle it.” Reyna’s voice was firm, and she leapt onto Visk’s back before Kianthe could protest. “You stay here in case there’s an accidental spray of fire. Keep everyone safe.”

“But the dragons—”

“Key.” Reyna interrupted, setting her jaw. “I need to do this.”

Kianthe hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. Good luck, love.”

Without further warning, Visk took off, angling like an arrow toward the chaos. The dragon mentor was meandering to the height of the children, clearly unconcerned. It gave them a bit of time, if nothing else.

“Get me to Tilaine, Visk. And be ready to dive if she drops.”

The griffon chirped, feathery wings beating fast as he cut through the sky.

“Pill Bug.” Reyna raised her voice, loud enough to be heard from this distance. “Come here. Right now, dragonling, or I’ll come to you.”

Ponder screeched emphasis. She’d gone from pecking Pill Bug to circling the quarreling siblings—and now she happily joined her father’s side. It was almost like she was saying, You’re in trouble now.

Gold Coin looked at Reyna, looked at the adult dragon circling nearby, and grumbled, detaching with a huff of defeat.

Pill Bug shook its leathery wings like a dog shaking in the rain. It caused the dragon to drop a distance equivalent to the height of their barn. Tilaine whimpered as it climbed back to its previous altitude, glancing at Reyna. It clearly couldn’t use fire yet, but smoke billowed between its jagged teeth.

Visk kept his distance, circling smoothly. This high up, the air was bitingly cold, and Reyna shuddered. In Pill Bug’s iron grip, Tilaine had lost her fury. Instead of writhing, she now clung to the dragon’s talons as her last hope.

“R-Reyna,” Tilaine wheezed, a sob choking the word.

“Stay calm, Tilaine.” Reyna leaned over Visk, scrutinizing the baby dragon. Her tone was almost fond now. “You’re not usually the troublemaker, Pill Bug. You wanted to protect me, didn’t you?”

Pill Bug’s wings beat rhythmically, its tail twisting under its body. In its claws, Tilaine was gripped like a prize. Its scales meant that it felt none of her earlier attacks—but it gripped her too tight, enough that her arms were already bruising.

It tilted its head, growling softly.

Aww. That was actually sweet.

“I know.” Reyna smiled. “You’re a good little dragon. And she hasn’t been very nice. But humans aren’t meant to fly this high, so I need you to drop her, all right?”

Pill Bug looked doubtfully at the approaching adult dragon, then at the human in its talons. Whatever its plan had been, it was clearly foiled. With a rumbling huff, it unlatched its claws—and released Tilaine.

The ex-sovereign screamed.

Ponder dove, faster than a falcon attacking prey from above, and grabbed Tilaine before she fell too far. She swooped up, struggling to support Tilaine’s weight, struggling to dodge the adult dragon that had just reached them. Visk dropped too, sending Reyna’s heart into her chest, and positioned himself underneath his daughter.

“Now, Pondie,” Reyna called, and Tilaine thumped harmlessly onto Visk’s back.

Tilaine was shuddering, even as Visk tilted his wings back toward the wedding venue. “Hold on,” Reyna said. “We’ll be on the ground in a few moments.”

But she should have predicted that Tilaine would act chaotically. Her eyes cut to the folk down below.

She saw her fate.

Reyna realized it a second before it happened—but it was far too late to intervene.

Tilaine grabbed Reyna’s shoulder and shoved her off Visk’s back.

What was once solid transitioned into rushing air, absolute free fall. High above and growing more distant, Visk dove toward Reyna—but Tilaine roughly grabbed the feathers on his back and tugged, viciously trying to redirect his attention. He screeched in pain and bucked in midair, desperate to dislodge his new rider.

It happened in a breath, and then the world was spinning and Reyna couldn’t tell up from down. The ground rushed toward her in snippets, a dizzying display that churned nausea in her gut. She clenched her eyes shut to avoid it all. This was it. This was how she died.

The Gods had spoken after all.

I’m sorry, Kianthe, Reyna thought, suddenly overwhelmed with sorrow.

And then a roar shattered her internal silence, and time itself seemed to slow. The rushing of the wind eased, then vanished—she was still falling, but the sensation had slowed to a crawl, where she was sinking like a plate in mud, rather than a brick in the air. And just as she cracked open one eye to see her fate, gentle claws wrapped around her body.

The moment the dragon had a hold, time restarted. The rushing air resumed, and Reyna’s stomach flipped as the dragon spread its wings into a graceful climb.

The adult dragon, the ever-present babysitter, had saved her.

Flocking at its side were Gold Coin and Pill Bug, both of whom seemed rather pleased at the rescue. Farther away, Visk had crash-landed at the wedding procession, and Reyna watched Dreggs and two Queensguard wrench Tilaine off the mount’s back. Supervising it all, swathed in magical fury, Kianthe viciously encased Tilaine’s limbs in solid rock.

The dragon tilted again, and the wedding venue shifted out of sight. The creature flew high, peeking at Reyna inside its gentle grip. There was something timeless about the black pools of its eyes, the ancient curve of its impressive horns.

She breathed a shaky sigh. “Th-thank you.”

At the dragon’s right wingtip, Pill Bug averted its gaze, clearly ashamed. Gold Coin trilled, and the adult dragon rumbled in response.

Kianthe once described dragon communication as a series of images that slid between a magical link, pictures that explained problems, solutions, and the emotions attached. For Kianthe, it was draining, a struggle akin to deciphering another language.

But in that moment high above Tawney, with dragon country a tapestry beneath them, the dragon’s thoughts formed plainly inside her head.

You’re welcome, little queen.

It filled Reyna with a sensation so calming, so confident, that she could only describe it as divine. In that instant, the Gods vanished from her mind—fake beings fabricated by a desperate human—and what replaced them was magic so encompassing it must put the Stone of Seeing to shame.

Dragon magic.

The lifeblood of the Queendom.

Nothing more was said, and Reyna had lost her voice anyway. The dragon angled back toward the wedding, easing Reyna to the grassy plains nearby. Visk seemed okay, preening his broken feathers. Meanwhile, Ponder soared over to Reyna, nibbling her hair and clothes in pleasure.

The adult dragon settled behind her. It met Kianthe’s gaze, acknowledging the Mage of Ages, and then spread its wings again. With a huge gust of wind, it took off, and a roar had Gold Coin and Pill Bug following obediently.

Ponder chirped after them, and the baby dragons trilled in response.

Home for the day, but probably back tomorrow.

Reyna pressed a hand to her forehead, dazed, as Kianthe ran up to her. “Rain! Fuck, are you okay? A fall like that, without magic—”

“I had magic.” Reyna’s voice sounded distant, even to herself. She gripped Kianthe’s arms, braced herself against her partner. Then, laughter pealed from her chest, and she could barely speak through it. “In fact, I—I think I just received a blessing.”

“A blessing from the Gods?” Kianthe asked, eyes widening.

“The Gods don’t exist.” Reyna had never been more certain. “But the dragons do. And they’re everything we need.”

Kianthe quirked an eyebrow. “Sure. I’ll remember that the next time Gold Coin tries to eat one of our books.”

That made Reyna laugh all over again, and she pressed a fierce kiss to Kianthe’s lips. Tilaine was still encased in rock, and Kianthe had pulled it right up to her nose, allowing her just enough leeway to breathe. The woman’s eyes were wild, but she was pinned.

Docile.

Behind them, the wedding had dissolved into chaos, with Queensguard and pirates and Tawneans and world leaders bickering over the fate of a country, the future of the Realm. Tessalyn, Diarn Feo, and Lord Wylan were draped over the dais, legs dangling toward the ground, watching the cacophony in various stages of exasperation.

Reyna took Kianthe’s hand. “Come on. We have to regain control.”

“Whatever you say, Your Excellency.” Kianthe smirked.

It made Reyna’s chest swell with pride.

A new era, indeed.

28

Kianthe

“You know, everyone else is celebrating. We could be having cake right now,” Kianthe complained, lounging on one of the armchairs in Lord Wylan’s study. The huge room was packed with important people, which just meant that it was another boring meeting about international politics.

Granted, Reyna was the topic of conversation, so she was mildly more engaged.

Mildly.

Mostly, Kianthe was thinking about cake, and how these “big discussions” could very well happen after their wedding party. The music and laughter was so loud she could hear it through the walls, if she strained to listen.

Reyna was perched on the armrest beside her, obviously amused. Considering the events of the day, she looked remarkably calm. “Darling, the cake will taste sweeter once we know the future of the Queendom, and have agreement from everyone here.”

The board representative sniffed. “We are thrilled to help restructure the balance of power in our neighboring country. Monarchies are quite out-of-date.”

“Monarchies are fine,” Mercon’s lord replied curtly. Lord Jaquine was a crotchety old woman with sagging skin and a crackling voice. She’d arrived just as the chaos was dying down, too late to partake but early enough to have an opinion.

Behind her, the other two lords in attendance seemed to have deferred to her expertise—apparently Mercon was larger than both of their territories.

Now, Lord Jaquine wagged her cane at Tessalyn. “What won’t be fine is convincing the other lords that a Queensguard is capable of ruling. If you are Queen Eren’s brood, then you are the new queen. There is no further discussion.”

Diarn Feo and the other councilmembers rolled their eyes, to varying degrees. A few opened their mouths, but Feo held a hand to silence them. “Lord Wylan has been hosting the heir. Perhaps he should be the one to speak for her.”

“I don’t need anyone to speak for me. I’ll say it plainly. Queen Eren was my mother—but I will not follow in her footsteps.” Tessalyn stubbornly held the old lord’s gaze.

Jaquine stiffened. “Insolent child. The Queendom will dissolve into panic without a ruler of royal blood.”

“Considering one of your royal bloodline abandoned me in Leonol, and the other tried to have me killed, I’d say I’m not the best fit for the job.”

Kianthe’s gaze darted between the bickering pair, wholly amused. Maybe the cake could wait.

Reyna, meanwhile, cleared her throat. “The royals were unique because of their blessings from the Gods, correct?” She waited until Lord Jaquine nodded slowly, grudgingly, before continuing. “As a representation of their power, our queens used dragon iconography throughout the Grand Palace—everywhere from their throne to the tapestries on the walls to our Queensguard armor.”

Jaquine huffed. “What’s your point?”

“Only that, by their own standard, the dragons are the highest power. Today, one obeyed my orders. Another plucked me out of the sky and safely returned me to the ground.” Reyna tilted her head. “That feels like a blessing. Doesn’t it?”

The words were innocent. The dragons bowed to no one—except perhaps the Arcandor—and everyone knew it. Lord Jaquine had arrived late to the wedding, certainly, but she’d heard all the gossip afterward—the entire town was alight with it.

Jaquine pressed her lips together tightly, acquiescing that point.

Wylan regained attention, leaning beside the inert hearth. “The fact is, Tilaine’s time as queen is finished. Even if we allow her to return to her throne, any support she’s had is gone.” He sighed. “Jaquine, for the good of the Queendom, we must press forward.”

“Forward,” Lord Jaquine agreed. “With the heir.”

“Do you have wax in your ears? I already said I won’t be queen,” Tessalyn said firmly. James—alongside Dreggs and Venne—were guarding Tilaine in another part of the manor. But even without her ever-present guard, Tessa spoke confidently. “I will happily take my place in the Grand Palace as a royal advisor, and assist Queen Reyna in designing a new form of government.”

“Queen Reyna,” Lord Jaquine repeated in disgust. “This is treason.”

Kianthe snorted. “Luckily, we have experience with that.”

Reyna swept to her feet, striding forward. Her gaze was sharp. “Treason would be allowing Tilaine to continue ruling. Tessalyn isn’t our savior. It’s time we shape this country ourselves.”

“If the position of queen is a free-for-all, it should go to one of the lords,” the old woman snapped.

Lord Wylan groaned. “For the love of the Gods themselves.”

A few councilmembers voiced their own irritation.

Locke, who’d been watching all of this from the room’s corner, chuckled. “Now I’m curious which lord you propose, Jaquine. Logic would say you’d try for it, considering you usurped Mercon’s last lord fifty years ago.”

Jaquine stiffened.

“Ooooooh,” Kianthe said. “The plot thickens.”

Locke wasn’t finished. “You aren’t even noble blood. Your father was a tanner.” The spymaster chuckled. “In fact, if you’re choosing an heir that way, Lord Wylan would be higher on that list than you.”

Lord Jaquine paled, spitting a defense. “That’s hardly the point. I earned my title—”

“And Reyna has earned hers.” Tessalyn rolled her eyes. “Now, do you have any more protests, or can we move on to actual productivity? I would love some food, and I have a feeling it’ll all be gone by the time we’re done chatting.”

“That would be a travesty,” Kianthe gasped.

Locke crossed his arms, that calm, dangerous smile still playing on his lips. Lord Jaquine glanced between him and Reyna, then puffed in irritation and settled back into her chair. She waved a hand to allow them to proceed. Behind her, the other lords grumbled but didn’t object.

It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

“How are we dealing with Tilaine?” one of the councilmembers asked, redirecting attention to that half of the room. They were perched in various chairs dragged in for the meeting. The one who spoke seemed to be the eldest there, clearly the most senior of the bunch. “She cannot be allowed to intervene in this new regime.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about Tilaine.” Kianthe finally spoke up, regaining their attention with ease. She crossed her legs, one foot bouncing. “As the Mage of Ages, I’ll handle her exile.”

“Exile?” the councilmember exclaimed. “She should be tried for her crimes!”

“A queen cannot come under the scrutiny of mere mortals.” Lord Jaquine scoffed.

Reyna raised her hands. “Enough.”

It worked—almost too well. Everyone lapsed into silence, glancing her way. Kianthe could see it took her aback; she wouldn’t be used to commanding world leaders like this.

But of course, Reyna handled it like a queen.

“Tilaine is a Queendom problem to solve. In consultation with the Mage of Ages and Tilaine’s own sister, I will place her somewhere discreet. Her rule is over, and we’ll ensure it remains that way.”

The councilmembers grumbled, but they could hardly argue.

“Very well, then. Next steps will be communicated, but I would personally like to celebrate.” Wylan rolled his shoulders, casting a rare smile at Feo. “Care to join the party?”

“I suppose we’ve earned it.” Feo pushed to their feet. They strolled for the door, but made a point of stopping in front of Reyna. In a shocking turn of events, they bowed deeply to her, reverence in their voice. “Queen Reyna. I look forward to your prosperous reign.”

Kianthe’s jaw dropped. Where was that respect for her?

Feo shot Kianthe a smug look, as if they could read her thoughts. She scowled at them, but they were already gone.

As the council filed out, all of them congratulated her to varying degrees of enthusiasm. The senior councilmember drew up at the end, and he tipped his hat to her. “My dear. You have allies in Shepara. Let us know if you need anything.”

Tears sprung to Reyna’s eyes, and Kianthe knew exactly why. This was such a stark contrast to her reception in Shepara last year, when everyone heard Reyna’s accent and assumed she was ready to massacre anyone who got close.

Finally, the perception of the Queendom citizens would change. Pride filled Kianthe’s chest.

“Thank you,” Reyna said, her voice wobbling.

He smiled and left.

The board of regents representatives followed, offering smiles to her and enthusiastic congratulations to Tessalyn. “I knew you were a bright student,” one told her. “I cannot wait to see the positive change you effect in our northern neighbors.”

“Queen Reyna. It truly is a pleasure,” another remarked.

Then it was just the Queendom lords.

Lord Jaquine held Reyna’s gaze with icy eyes, and Kianthe tensed for a fight. But the old woman just spat, “Long live the queen.” With a disgusted huff, she stepped into the manor’s hallway. The other lords followed, and the double doors of the study slammed closed.

Kianthe narrowed her eyes, pushing off the armchair. “Can we replace her too? She’s too old to be a lord, anyway.”

“Leave that to me.” Locke smirked, cleaning the dirt from under his nails. “Call it a wedding present. One last act before retirement.”

Reyna pinched the bridge of her nose. “I won’t start my rule by eliminating my dissenters, Locke. I’m not Tilaine. Leave her be; if she has concerns, she can voice them through the proper channels.”

Wylan sighed. “She won’t be the only one with concerns.”

“A problem for another night.” Reyna rested a hand on her sword. “I rather fancy a slice of cake. Shall we?”

It was a well-earned dismissal. Tessalyn, Wylan, and Locke strolled for the door, following everyone outside.

It left Kianthe and Reyna alone, something Kianthe had been craving for half the day. She slid her arms around Reyna’s waist, pressing their bodies together. Reyna sighed contentedly, and Kianthe buried her nose in her partner’s hair. Reyna smelled like home: herbal blends, sweat, and a hint of oil from polishing her new sword.

“Queen Reyna. Can I pick them, or what?”

Reyna sagged against her, the bravado gone. “Keep me sane. Okay, Key? Make sure I don’t mess this up.”

“You won’t.” Kianthe pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You’re going to be amazing.”

“You have to say that, love.”

Kianthe chuckled. “Look. I’ve talked with a lot of leaders—and none are quite so convinced they’re going to fuck up. I feel like that counts for something.”

“A lack of confidence?” Reyna winced.

“Or a healthy dose of humility.” Kianthe captured her lips in a kiss, and smiled when Reyna relaxed. All of the tense energy she’d held for a week seemed to leave in a whoosh, and it felt like it was only Kianthe’s arms holding her upright. Kianthe pulled back. “You tired?”

“Emotionally,” Reyna muttered. Then she considered and amended, “Physically, too. Long day.” Her arm had been bandaged after the ceremony, but she lifted it anyway. “Knife wounds are never fun.”

As long as it didn’t get infected this time.

“We don’t have to celebrate. We can just go home.” Kianthe wanted cake, but Janice did live around the corner. The baker would happily make them another cake if they missed this one.

Reyna’s arms snaked around Kianthe’s shoulders, one hand tangling in her hair. It had been braided for the ceremony, but she gently pulled one of the ties free, scratching where it had pulled against Kianthe’s scalp. “No, that’s okay. I just … needed a moment. We should go speak with Tilaine before we leave, anyway.”

Great. Kianthe heaved a sigh. “Remind me to make you a calming cup of tea tomorrow, Your Excellency.”

A gleam overtook Reyna’s ash-brown eyes. “If you start calling me that, Key, I’ll call you Arcandor, and we’ll have the most formal marriage in the history of marriages.”

“Mmm. I don’t know. Feels kind of hot to hear you call me ‘Arcandor.’” Kianthe kissed her again, murmuring against her lips, “Your Excellency.”

“Oh Gods.” Her words were deadpan.

“I thought you didn’t believe in the Gods, now.”

Reyna rolled her eyes. “Force of habit.” And she separated from Kianthe, straightening her vest and smoothing her hair. “I think I’ll need something stronger than a cup of tea. But first, Tilaine.”

“Tilaine.” Kianthe gathered her wits, which always seemed to vanish when Reyna got involved. She gestured for Reyna to take the lead. “After you, love.”

“I like that name better,” Reyna said fondly.

Kianthe laughed to hide the way her heart flipped at the statement. With a wry smile, she followed the new sovereign of the Queendom out the door.

29

Reyna

Tilaine was a mess.

Reyna had never seen the woman look so unkempt. Her stunning dress had been smeared in mud, ripped by dragon claws, and now draped in barely presentable tatters. Someone had given her a cloak to cover up, and she hugged it around herself as she sat stiffly in the chair. Black tearstains colored her cheeks, and the light powder that kept her skin porcelain smooth was warring with mud and grime.

Her hands clenched into fists when Reyna and Kianthe arrived.

Reyna didn’t know whether to smile politely, laugh, or some combination. She was enjoying this, just a little, but she was hardly petty enough to show it.

For now.

Venne noticed them first, tilting his head. “Well? Do we have Realm approval, Your Excellency?” He slathered respect into the words, a pointed jab against Tilaine.

It was disconcerting hearing it from her childhood friend. From a Queensguard in full uniform.

Reyna forced a level tone. “The council and the board of regents offered their support. The lords of the Queendom are spreading the word. Tessalyn has agreed to relocate to the Capital, and I will act as an interim royal while she establishes a parliament.”

She purposefully downplayed any dissent from the lords. Tilaine was gagged, a thick handkerchief over her mouth, but she tilted her head anyway, listening intently. Gauging weakness.

Reyna wouldn’t give her another opening.

More curious, though, was her gag and restraints. At Wylan’s suggestion, they’d hidden Tilaine away in one of the deeper suites of his manor. Reyna figured she’d be monitored there, but she was tied to the stiff chair’s armrests, trapped.

“Ah, why is she bound?”

“I can think of a few reasons,” Kianthe drawled.

Dreggs was leaning against one post of the bed, twirling a small knife between their fingers. The picture of ease, as always. “Well, she attacked my kid, so I was already waiting for an opportunity.”

Kianthe snorted. “Remind me not to mess with Tessalyn.”

“Look, I restrained myself.” Dreggs winked.

“Ayyyy.” Kianthe applauded. “Restrained yourself. Great pun. Excellent.”

“Thank you, thank you.”

Reyna pinched the bridge of her nose. “So, why is she restrained now?”

Now the pirate captain shrugged. “She got on our nerves. First, it was the orders. ‘Release me, you heathens’ and the like. Then she started screeching like a griffon. After that came the waterworks, and that was my limit.”

Reyna’s eyebrows shot up in alarm. “She actually dissolved into hysterics?” She wanted Tilaine contained, not tortured.

“I was concerned too,” James admitted.

Venne rolled his eyes. “It really was quite the performance.”

Dreggs grinned wickedly, snapping their fingers. “Exactly. I see it all the time on the Southern Seas. Rich folk are all about posturing until the moment they’re trapped, and then they’ll do anything to negotiate freedom. I’ll bet a ship of gold the next things out of her mouth would be offering us ‘unimaginable wealth and power.’” Sarcasm made Dreggs’s stance on that perfectly clear.

Tilaine’s eyes cut to the left, avoiding Reyna’s gaze.

“Hmm.” Reyna shouldn’t be surprised. She glanced at James now, who was seated at a small table across from Venne. A chessboard was set up between them, so they clearly expected to be here for the long haul. “And you two made friends, I see.”

“We got bored.” James shrugged.

“In the Grand Palace, we’d be punished by combat if we were caught playing chess on duty.” Venne chuckled, casting a dark glance at Tilaine. “But no one’s here to challenge that now, are they?”

Tilaine glowered.

Kianthe grinned gleefully. “I shouldn’t be enjoying this, but I really, really am.”

Reyna winced, unwilling to admit her own entertainment here. She strode forward, watching the woman who’d caused so much agony and heartbreak over her lifetime. Tilaine used to seem like a goddess, elevated to divine levels in her elegance and power.

Now, she was just a person.

With a hook of her finger, Reyna tugged the handkerchief out of her mouth. “Tilaine.”

The woman spit on her.

Kianthe surged forward, the air noticeably colder, but Reyna held up a hand.

Okay. It’s like that, then.

Reyna wiped the saliva from her cheek and smiled. It was an expression Reyna used to reserve for assassins, traitors, the scum of the Realm. Now, her definitions of all those things had shifted.

The only target left was Tilaine.

The former queen shuddered, but her glare held strong.

“One year ago, I killed an assassin for you. I ran him through with my sword, and his blood stained my hands.” Reyna’s voice was level, although the dark passion behind her words was unmistakable. “His partner captured me—and you didn’t even care. You joked while he held my life in his hands.”

Tilaine narrowed her eyes. “Only the strong survive, my dear. And if you intend to play sovereign, you’ll learn that very soon.”

“A shortsighted approach. That’s something you never understood.”

Reyna stepped back, gesturing at the folks around her. Kianthe, the Arcandor, the Mage of Ages, her dedicated partner in life. Venne, her childhood friend, who’d loved her in more ways than one. Dreggs, a dangerous pirate captain, who’d come to respect Reyna as an ally. James, a noble young man with ambitions similar to her own.

Their support filled Reyna like warm tea on an icy day. She smiled at each of them, and the love she felt for these people—and everyone outside the manor, celebrating in their names—was indescribable.

Gratitude.

Immense gratitude was the only word she could summon.

“You believe strength is pushing others down so you can stand higher.” Reyna bent to Tilaine’s level for the very last time. “I believe strength is the support of those closest to me. Without them, I am nothing.”

“You are nothing anyway,” Tilaine snarled.

Reyna shrugged. “Perhaps by your standards. I hold myself in higher regard.”

“You—” Tilaine spluttered, but Reyna smoothly pulled up the gag, silencing her. What Tilaine had to say from this point forward didn’t matter anymore.

And that was a marvelous thing to realize.

“That looked cathartic,” Kianthe remarked.

Reyna laughed, and laughed some more. “It was. Now, tell me you three are pulling shifts so you can enjoy the party, too.”

“Mister Mom is rolling in next.” Dreggs stretched their arms above their head. “And I think Serina and Bobbie want a shift. Don’t you worry, Your Excellency.” The title was spoken with amusement, but in a I fucking knew it way.

“And you know where to take her?” Reyna asked.

The words held a heavy weight.

The Dastardly Pirate Dreggs smirked, their gaze vindictive. “Sure. Although she may fall off the side of my ship—”

“Dreggs.” Reyna narrowed her eyes.

“Oh, fine. You have my word. She’ll live a beautiful, anonymous life in the Roiling Islands, trapped by whirlpools, unpassable rapids, and my pirates. It’ll be perfectly mundane, the worst fate she could ever imagine.”

Tilaine’s eyes widened, and she began thrashing against her bindings. It didn’t matter—they held, and no one objected to Dreggs’s statement.

Dreggs, however, seemed to take offense to that. “Hey. It’s a nice ending for you. Nicer than you probably deserve. The Roiling Islands are lovely … albeit remote.” She glared at them, and the pirate sighed. “I’m telling you, Reyna. I don’t know why we’re trying.”

“Because we’re the good guys.” Then Kianthe considered her words, shrugged, and added, “Probably.”

“Ugh.” Dreggs wrinkled their nose.

Reyna rolled her eyes and stepped for the door. “All right, then. It’s high time we celebrate our wedding.”

“Hells yeah. Cake.” Kianthe grinned.

And neither of them spared the former queen a glance.

Finally, finally, Reyna could relax.

It had proved difficult with everyone in Tawney—pirates and dignitaries and all—pausing to bow or curtsy whenever they saw her. Excited chatter of a new queen, of Reyna taking control of her home country, of the oppression of Tilaine’s rule ending in a single day, was on everyone’s lips.

Tawney celebrated loud and long into the night, bonfires burning and music filtering into the clear night air.

“Shit,” Kianthe said at one point. “No one celebrated like this when I became the Arcandor.”

“Dear, the last Arcandor died for that,” Reyna reminded her.

Kianthe frowned. “Oh yeah. Stone-damned, he was old.”

“You’d better be the same.” Reyna claimed a glass of wine.

It was immediately replaced with one from Matild’s secret stash. “Oh no. A queen deserves the best wine,” the midwife said cheerfully, and topped off her glass. She and Tarly were arm in arm, both clearly wasted. Precious drops spilled into the dirt, but the midwife didn’t notice. “Do you know what this means? We can go back to the Capital. I can see my family again.”

Kianthe elbowed Reyna, a See? gesture.

Reyna laughed, sipping her wine, savoring the earthen flavor as it slid down her throat and dried out her tongue. “I’m so glad. I’d be happy to reinstate you at the royal medical ward, if you wanted. You could finally become a doctor.”

“I’m already a doctor.” Matild waved a hand. “Finished that schooling last season. Just need one last trip to Wellia to make it official.”

“My wife is a genius,” Tarly intoned seriously.

“Hey. So is mine,” Kianthe drawled, draping one arm over Reyna’s shoulders.

Matild gasped, and it was so startling Reyna almost dropped her glass. “Gods. Oh, Gods. You never got married.” She voiced it deathly quiet, like it was the greatest offense of their generation. “How didn’t we notice? Tilaine ruined the ceremony, and then the attack, and the dragons, and all the politics, and—you never got married!” She cut off in a dramatic wail.

Kianthe coughed.

Reyna tilted her gaze upward, biting her tongue.

Tarly squinted at them, suspicion in his tone. “You hiding something?”

“Ah—we did get married. Last season.” Reyna rubbed the back of her neck and took a demure sip of her wine.

“What?” Matild screeched.

“Sorry.” Kianthe didn’t sound sorry at all.

Matild slapped her arm. “You two didn’t even invite us.”

“We invited Lord Wylan and Diarn Feo! Made it official in both countries.” Kianthe clutched her mug of tea like a shield.

It was a fair protection. Matild’s eyes flashed with murderous intent. “I’m your best friend, you assholes.” Wylan had the unfortunate timing of striding by with two beers in hand, and Matild shouted after him, “You’d better hope no one stabs you, my lord, because I’m not stitching your ass back together!”

Wylan opened his mouth, thought better of it, and hurried across the town square to Feo and the other councilmembers.

Matild shot his back a very crude gesture.

Reyna swallowed a peal of laughter, lest she be next. “Listen, it wasn’t personal. We did most of the ceremony alone—they just signed the documents. We always wanted something private, intimate. Something just for us.”

She leaned against her wife, pleased the secret was finally out.

Kianthe wrapped an arm around Reyna’s waist, almost possessively. “After Locke showed up and told us we’d be staging a coup, we figured we’d better do it sooner than later. Just in case.”

“You two are the worst. I’m never going to forgive you.” Matild about-faced, dragging Tarly away. They didn’t seem to have a destination in mind, and they were both fairly drunk, so it was less intimidating than she probably hoped.

“I told you we should have invited her,” Reyna said.

Kianthe sighed. “Yeah, you did. But then we’d have had to invite Gossley, and then his girlfriend would show up, and then Sigmund and Nurt would have figured it out, and we’d have had a wedding anyway.”

It had been an intimate ceremony. Just the pair of them, exchanging quiet vows under the shade of the pinyon pine they’d planted together on their back patio. Ever since they’d married, it had been blooming celebratory flowers—Reyna had been certain that someone would notice it was wildly out of season.

But apparently, with an elemental mage in the house, no one thought anything of it.

They walked through the party, busying themselves with observing the antics of others. The pirates had welcomed Tessalyn into their fold, clapping her on the back and offering ale and wine, all with raucous suggestions that she overtake Dreggs’s empire someday.

“Princess of the pirates,” one exclaimed.

“Get off it,” Dreggs shouted, but they were grinning fiercely. “She’s cut from a better cloth.”

Tessalyn patted their arm. “Hardly. Maybe in a few years, I could be persuaded to leave policy meetings for a daring life on the high seas.” Her tone was wry, and she lifted the mug of ale. The pirates cheered, and Kianthe and Reyna strolled on.

They found Bobbie and Serina next, both of whom were halfway through a bottle of mystery liquor and trying to steal another slice of cake. Janice, the baker, swatted Serina’s hands away from a particularly gorgeous, two-tiered cake.

“Oh no, you don’t. This is for the Arcandor and Queen Reyna. Don’t you think about it.”

Serina mumbled something and slunk away, collapsing against Bobbie. They both giggled, took turns drinking deeply from the bottle in their hands, and whispered under their breaths.

“They’re plotting something,” Reyna murmured.

Kianthe didn’t hear—or didn’t care. “You set aside a whole cake for us?” She swept Janice into a hug. “That’s so nice.”

Janice grunted, laughing. “Of course! It’s your wedding.” She extricated herself and motioned toward the cake in question. Long tables had been set up along the western edge of town, laden with enough food that it really looked like a celebration in the Grand Palace. But this table was clearly just for desserts—and the cakes for everyone else were a step below the masterpiece Janice gestured to now.

“Look at the detail! It took Sasua and me the better part of the week.”

It was twice the height of the others, decorated in chocolate frosting with strawberries. Someone had made a topper out of wax figurines, painting them to look like Kianthe and Reyna holding hands.

“Oh, this is lovely, Janice.” Reyna breathed. Her fingers drifted toward the cake, but her hand dropped. She wanted a mental painting of this moment, something to remember for decades to come. Warmth and happiness overtook her, and again, it felt like a lump was lodged in her throat.

Janice smiled warmly. “We love you two. We were happy to do it.” Then she glanced sharply down the long table, where Bobbie was helping Serina tug an entirely different cake off the table. “Leave it, you two! Wait until everyone else has had a slice.”

The women dissolved into laughter. Serina shouted, “Hey, Reyna! I mean, Your Excellency. Get us another piece, will you?”

“I think you two should find some meat and vegetables,” Reyna replied sternly. “And probably a jug of water. What the hells are you drinking, anyway?”

“Queendom’s new monarch is a killjoy,” Bobbie retorted.

“I know, right?” Serina disentangled her arm from Bobbie’s. “We’ll just go—” And with a jerk backward, she grabbed two pre-cut slices of cake. “Go, go, go!” And they ran, Serina carrying the cake, Bobbie sprinting drunkenly with the bottle of liquor.

Kianthe snorted. “I want what they’re having.”

Janice shook her head and cut Kianthe and Reyna each a slice of cake, then fished out some whipped cream she’d had on ice. Only once both slices were topped did she step back, clapping in satisfaction. “Okay, there you go. Let me know if you two want more.”

“Where’s Sasua? I’d love to thank her.” Reyna glanced again at the figurine topping the cake, swelling with affection.

“She’s on babysitting duty tonight. She had her fun last time.” Janice chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’ll relieve her soon enough. Go enjoy the party.” She shooed them away from the table.

They hadn’t walked three steps before Kianthe’s parents found them. Elysia and Magnus were beaming, with Elysia’s cheeks ruddy and Magnus swelling in pride.

“Our daughter, married,” Elysia gushed, pressing a sloppy kiss to Kianthe’s cheeks. “And to a queen, no less. Did you know she would be queen, Kianthe? We feel so silly about our introduction.”

Magnus swept into a deep bow. “Your Excellency. Please accept our apologies for … well … everything.”

“Nonsense.” Reyna laughed. Then, almost tentative, she tested the waters. “We’re family, after all.”

That only seemed to make Kianthe’s parents more proud. Elysia pressed a hand to her mouth, eyes welling with tears. “W-We are family. Aren’t we? Oh Stars, a royal in our family line. Can you believe it, Magnus? Our daughter married a queen.”

“I’m the Arcandor,” Kianthe complained.

“And we’re also proud of that,” Magnus said.

Kianthe snorted, and Reyna patted her arm. But there was such genuine happiness in their eyes, such satisfaction, that it felt like Reyna might cry too. Or laugh. Or both. She drew a breath and smiled at her in-laws. “I knew I was lucky the day Kianthe introduced herself. But I don’t think I realized how fortunate we are to have you both as parents.”

“Oh.” Elysia did cry now, dabbing her eyes.

Kianthe rubbed the back of her neck, still holding her piece of cake. “What she said. It—it means a lot that you guys came this week. I’m sorry I wasn’t more forthcoming with an invitation, but I’m really glad you were here.” Her voice cracked at the end, and she ducked her head.

Her father clapped her back. “We’ll always be here, kid. Although we were talking, and maybe it is time to retire. Koll does sound nice.”

“Our friends are there…” Elysia hesitated. “Would you be terribly sad if we sold the farm?”

“To retire to the riverside, drinking wine?” Kianthe laughed. “Absolutely not. We’ll visit all the time.”

That made them swell, and they exchanged excited glances.

Reyna handed her wine and cake to Kianthe, then gripped Elysia’s arm, squeezing comfortingly. “And if you ever want a tour of the Capital, it really is something special. The Eastern oceans have some of the best halibut in the Realm.”

“A tour of the Capital, given by the queen herself,” Elysia murmured, eyes wide. “What a day.”

Magnus chuckled. “We’d be honored. Congratulations to you both.”

“We’ll see you soon,” Kianthe offered, which only seemed to make her parents happier. With waves and shouted promises, they strolled toward the food tables and vanished into the crowd.

“Thanks for—all that,” Kianthe said when they were gone, handing back Reyna’s wine.

Reyna smiled. “Dear, I haven’t had a family in years. I’m quite pleased yours is an option now.” She kissed her wife, then lifted her glass. “Shall we find a spot to sit?”

They walked to the south side of town, savoring the fresh air and the distance from the noise. The music muted as they took a seat near the wedding venue. Several of the chairs had been upturned in the chaos and abandoned in the aftermath. Reyna picked two to right, sinking into one.

“Should we have some meat and vegetables?” Kianthe asked skeptically. “You don’t usually let me go straight for dessert.”

Reyna had finished her wine, and she left the glass on another chair to be found in the morning. “Tonight, love, I don’t care.”

Pleasantly warm, she cut into her cake with a metal fork, taking a bite. It was absolutely splendid, rich and moist and sweet. She moaned, taking another bite before she could help herself. Kianthe followed suit, her brows knitting together.

“Stone and Stars be damned,” the mage breathed.

“Indeed,” the queen replied.

They descended into comfortable silence. Reyna ate her cake slowly, savoring every bite, but Kianthe scarfed hers down—then went back for seconds. As the night wore on, the pair sat together, chatting amicably about everything and nothing.

It was one of those simple moments, when they could be at the party celebrating with their friends—but somehow, watching from afar in their bubble of privacy made it feel more precious. Reyna didn’t think she’d ever forget this night.

Fauston was the one who discovered them. It was nearly sunrise, and the party was dying down. Smoke from the quelled bonfires—there had been at least three—drifted into the air, and the music had stopped a while ago. Reyna and Kianthe were lying in the grass, hand in hand, staring at the stars overhead. Soon, light would color the sky gray.

For now, the sky was brilliant.

“You two were pretty sneaky tonight,” Fauston remarked. He swallowed a yawn, dropping into the chair nearest to them.

Reyna was nearing sleep, but she blinked blearily at Fauston’s dark shape. “It was a long week. We wanted to enjoy the peace and quiet.”

“Understandably,” he replied, his tone light.

Kianthe, also horizontal, half-heartedly waved a hand. “We’ll go inside later. Let us enjoy this.” She snuggled closer to Reyna, near enough that her cheek was resting on Reyna’s shoulder.

Fauston smirked. “I’m not here to give you a bedtime.”

“Good,” Kianthe said blearily. “’S too late now, anyway.”

“Sure.” Fauston hesitated. “I, uh … I think I’m going to the Capital after this.”

That got their attention. Kianthe pried open her eyes, quirking an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah. James is following Tessalyn, but he said they might need a ‘Sheparan perspective’ as she restructures things.” Now Fauston laughed, self-deprecating. “He’s lying, I’m sure; there has to be a Sheparan better suited for that than me. But it was a nice offer.”

Reyna propped herself up on her elbow, which elicited a dark mutter from Kianthe. She didn’t pay it much mind. “Is that where you want to be? You’re welcome to stay in Tawney if not.”

“Tawney is nice, but the Capital sounds exciting. It’s always been off-limits for Sheparans. And James … well. I’m intrigued.” Fauston smirked. “I guess I just wanted you both to know.”

“Congratulations,” Kianthe breathed, half-asleep.

“Tomorrow, she’ll be more excited,” Reyna offered on her wife’s behalf.

Fauston pushed to his feet, stretching. “I’ll be sure to reiterate it, although I think Tessalyn is planning to leave with Locke and the Queensguard once everyone sleeps this off. Lots to change in the Capital.”

“Indeed. Exciting times.” Reyna was severely lacking sleep, so her response was muted as well. Tomorrow, they’d both have thoughts on that, she was certain.

For now, she just felt content.

After Fauston strolled back toward town, silence filled the air yet again. Reyna sighed, dropping back to the grass, but this time she snuggled against Kianthe’s chest. Her fingers traced her wife’s arm, and she murmured, “When we awake, everything starts fresh.”

“That’s tomorrow’s problem. Ah, today’s problem.” Kianthe wrapped her arm around Reyna’s shoulders and pulled her close. The ground shifted beneath them, yet again accommodating the Arcandor in a spongelike hold. Kianthe buried her face in Reyna’s hair, which had been let loose earlier in the evening. “Right now, the only thing that matters is how proud I am of you.”

“Me?” Reyna chuckled. “I’m hardly—”

“No, Rain.” Kianthe’s voice was quiet. “Don’t. All your stress paid off, and now you’re the fucking queen. And no one deserves it more.”

Reyna smiled against her chest. “The only thing I deserve is you, love.”

“Always and forever.”

The night stretched on, and eventually, they fell asleep: wife and wife.

Epilogue

Winter in the Grand Palace was always cold—but after a year and a half in Tawney, the chill of the stone walls barely fazed Reyna. She was dressed in a long-sleeved shirt embroidered in gold, tight black slacks, and had her sword tied to her belt. It was plenty of coverage. To her, the air felt pleasant.

At her side, Tessalyn was another story. She shivered, tugging a heavy cloak tighter around her shoulders. “I never thought I’d miss the humidity of Leonol.”

“Same,” James muttered, perpetually three steps behind Tessalyn. At his side was Venne, Reyna’s chosen guard. The men were in full Queensguard uniform, complete with no-nonsense expressions—but sometimes that slipped.

Often, that slipped.

Reyna didn’t mind. It was nice, hearing her old cohorts laughing in the hallways, passing long shifts with games and jokes instead of passive stares.

Reyna glanced over her shoulder. “You two can walk with us, you know.”

“With all respect, Your Excellency,” Venne said, rolling his eyes, “someone has to watch your back.”

“Because there have been so many assassination attempts.” Tessalyn’s voice was dry.

Now James swelled indignantly. “Someone came at you with a knife last season.”

“It was a letter opener, and he was wasted.” Tessa snorted.

They rounded a corner, and a few servants paused in their sweeping, sliding into deep bows. “Queen Reyna,” they said cheerfully. “Madam Tessalyn.” It was such a difference from Tilaine’s rule, when all titles were whispered with reverence. Now, the palace staff stated it out of courtesy, but it was never expected.

They were busy with jobs, after all. It seemed silly to make them stop and bow, even if most still did.

“Instead of discussing potential threats, perhaps we should redirect to the actual concern here. You want to break parliament into … tiers?” Reyna frowned, resting a hand on her sword’s hilt. Old habit. “How will that help?”

That distracted Tessalyn sufficiently well. Two seasons in the Grand Palace had reinforced that she thrived in developing political policy, even if she wanted none of the circumstance of being a sovereign.

“Well, it’d act as a control. Like a narrow nozzle on a water jug—angling the right problems to the right people. Right now, the lords are inundated with things the queen would have traditionally handled. If we separate them out—let the lords make the big decisions, but divvy the smaller issues to specialists—we can help everyone.”

“Hmm. It sounds all well and good in theory, but I think I’d need to spend some time reviewing a written proposal.” Reyna sighed. “I really miss reading books for fun.”

Tessalyn snorted. “This is fun.” Then she paused, sliding her hands into the pockets of her trousers. “Speaking of, what about Kianthe’s novel? Isn’t that coming out soon?”

“The press in Wellia is distributing it over the Mid-Winter Celebration.” Reyna smiled wryly. “She’s very excited. Says she’s going to be famous.”

“She’s going to be—?” James started, then cut himself off. “You know what. Never mind.”

Reyna paused at the doors to the royal suite. It was empty most of the year, but she’d made it feel like home for the short periods when she visited the Grand Palace. It was well into the evening at this point, with torches illuminating their way. Two framed her doors, which felt excessive.

Everything in the Palace felt excessive when it was focused on her—but Reyna was getting used to it.

“I’m heading back to Tawney in a few days, but if you can get me a written proposal by then, I’ll review it and let you know my thoughts.” It sounded smart in theory, but Reyna worried about including too many people in the decision-making process. Still, she supposed, that was the point of all this. Involving more people. Removing power from one.

With that in mind, Reyna added, “But the board sent scholars here, right? What do they think?”

“They came up with it.” Tessalyn rocked back on her heels, swallowing a yawn. “I’ll write something up. For now, I’m beat. And I’m pretty sure Fauston is waiting for James tonight.”

James flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s fine. He can wait.”

“Last time, he came to find us and presented you with a bouquet.” Tessalyn elbowed her friend. “Let’s get going before he shows up with a kitten or something.”

“We already have a cat,” James protested, but dutifully followed her down the hallway. He waved at Venne as they turned the corner.

Reyna moved to grab the handle on the doors, but Venne swiftly stepped in front of her.

“Ah-ah. Protocol.”

A queen couldn’t open her own damned door. With a heavy sigh, Reyna stepped back. “Do we have to go through this every single time? If there’s an assassin, I should handle it anyway. I’m getting rusty.”

“You train with the Queensguard every morning you’re here.” Venne stepped inside the rooms. She waited in the doorway while he swept through the space, methodically searching every nook and cranny for anything out of place. “Trust me,” he called over his shoulder. “You’re not getting rusty.”

Reyna tilted her head. “Well, if I’m perfectly capable, then let me search my own rooms.”

“For the love of—Your Excellency, there’s a protocol to this.” Exasperation tilted Venne’s voice as he checked behind the heavy drapes leading to the expansive balcony. “And if you’re too capable, then I’m unemployed. So … maybe we both pretend this is necessary.”

“Point.” Reyna crossed her arms.

“Excellent. Stay there.” And Venne ducked inside her bedroom.

Reyna sighed, leaning against the doorframe. Behind her, the hallway was silent, and her bed was starting to sound more and more inviting. Of course, she had some letters to read, and Kianthe had been absently tapping her moonstone all day, checking in, saying hello, so she might need some long-distance comfort too.

Caught up in her mental to-do list, Reyna didn’t notice the boot scuffing behind her until it was too late.

She spun on her heel, sliding a knife from its sheath at her forearm.

Someone pressed a wet rag to her nose. The scent of blue locke slid into her brain, far too sweet and flowery. The potent extract did its job, and her consciousness faded in one breath.

Venne.

Her voice wasn’t working.

Reyna’s eyelids fluttered, and she barely had time to groan before her captor caught her. By the time the person hauled her over their shoulder, all she knew was black.

REYNA AND KIANTHE

WILL RETURN IN THE FINAL INSTALLMENT OF THE

TOMES & TEA QUARTET.

The Coralcrest

“You must be mad.” The sailor’s tone was laced with fear, and his eyes cut across the calm ocean as if the dreaded warship might appear at any moment.

Great, Tessalyn thought, adjusting the heavy bag slung over her shoulder. Another one.

It was a lovely day, with seagulls screaming and salt heavy in the air. The wet squelching of fishermen offloading their morning hauls was dulled by a captain of a nearby cargo frigate hollering at his crew. The docks at Jallin were exhilarating … and their destination would be even better, if Tessa could reach it sometime this Stars-damned week.

“I assure you”—James had finally been sized for an appropriate Queensguard sword, and he rested a hand on its hilt now—“that she is utterly serious.”

The sailor’s eyes flicked to the sword, and his jaw set.

Unspoken threats hadn’t worked on the first three sailors they’d tried, and Tessa doubted it’d work here. She swiftly reclaimed the conversation, casting James an exasperated look. “This says you’re open for passenger transport.” She gestured at the wooden sign swaying in the slight breeze.

The sailor crossed beefy arms. “Not for folks looking to seal their death warrant.”

“I’m Dreggs’s daughter.” Tessa waved a hand. “If anything, they’ll invite you aboard the Painted Death for a party as a thank-you. The trip won’t take long, and we can pay.”

At that, she jingled a large bag of coin.

Unlike the other sailors, that seemed to catch his attention. It was likely more than he made in most trips, for far less effort. A thrill of anticipation swept through Tessalyn, but she played it cool as he eyed her, then the bag.

“Dreggs is taller than you. Three meters, if the stories are true.”

“Stars, you’d better hope they’re not. Three meters?” Tessa snorted, and even James had to swallow a laugh.

“They’re only a bit taller than me,” James remarked.

The sailor frowned, still assessing Tessalyn. “I never heard of the Dastardly Pirate Dreggs having kids.”

Tessalyn shrugged. “Certainly you’ve heard that they slept around. What did you think was the natural consequence of that?” She jiggled the bag again. “Now. Do we have a deal?”

The sailor glanced up and down the dock, as if hoping another customer might swoop in and offer a better use of his boat. When none arrived, the sailor mopped the back of his neck with a rag and grumbled, “Fine. But if he kills me, I’m haunting you.”

“That seems like a fair trade.” Tessalyn lightly stepped into the boat, bouncing in excitement.

Mister Mom, Dreggs’s quartermaster, was the one to greet them. He leaned over the side of the Painted Death, squinting at their dinghy bobbing in the water. The ship was massive, at least ten meters high, and the cannons aboard the gun deck loomed ominously. Distance quieted Mister Mom’s voice, but he had a booming tone—easy to understand regardless.

“Ah, Miss Tessalyn. Mister James. I see you found transport. Impressive.”

Tessalyn couldn’t tear her eyes away from her parent’s incredible flagship. It was no wonder the Painted Death was the ship that haunted folks’ nightmares. She couldn’t even imagine the horror of seeing its crimson sails emerge from the fog.

Apparently, the sailor aboard the dinghy felt the same. His bravado seemed to have vanished when the feared pirate ship came into view, and now he was silent as a mouse stalked by cats. When Mister Mom’s eyes roamed their tiny boat, the sailor hunched into himself.

Mister Mom noticed. He noticed everything. A dry smile played on the pirate’s lips, and he leaned against the polished railing of the deck, high above them. “Was it safe passage?” A dark undertone filtered into his voice. “Or did he cause you trouble?”

Stars above.

Tessalyn rolled her eyes. “He was a perfect gentleman.”

“Excellent.” With a wave, Mister Mom tossed a rope ladder over the side of the ship. It landed in the water near the dinghy, close enough to be grabbed. Tessalyn handed the payment to James, then waited for him to steady the ladder while she climbed. It was a difficult trek with the swaying boats and her heavy bag, but exhilaration took her all the way up.

She never thought she’d miss a pirate ship, but after bonding with the crew on her journey from Leonol to Tawney that summer, this felt like coming home.

Behind her, James thanked the sailor and followed her up the ladder.

“Am—Am I safe to leave?” the sailor dared to call after them.

Mister Mom looked bored. “Aye. Your business is done.”

The sailor didn’t need another warning. The dinghy’s sail unfurled, and with expert steering, the boat fled.

On deck, Mister Mom called to another pirate, “Mark that one and spread the word. He gets a single instance of immunity next time any of the fleet crosses his path.”

“Aye, Quartermaster,” the pirate called, and plucked a spyglass from a nearby bracket to analyze the dinghy.

Tessalyn crested the ladder, swinging her feet over the railing with a grunt. Mister Mom immediately relieved her of the bag, then helped James follow suit—a tricky matter with the sword tied to his hip. Tessa ensured James had two boots on deck before stretching in the midday sunshine.

It was warm, but the early fall breeze was gorgeous against her skin. Around them, pirates were enjoying a rare day anchored. Some lounged in the sunshine, reading books or sleeping with tricorne hats over their faces. Some were working, replacing fraying ropes or patching the sails. Two children ran past, giggling as they chased each other across the deck.

“We’re pleased to welcome you two aboard,” Mister Mom said. He always sounded bored, but a rare smile tilted his lips before he turned toward the deck. “We have a shore party hunting for tonight’s feast. Once they return, we’ll set sail.”

He gestured at the land north of where they’d anchored. The port town of Jallin consisted of marshlands where the mighty Nacean River spilled into the ocean, but they’d sailed west all day. Here, a magnificent forest spread along the southwestern tip of Shepara, and Tessalyn had no doubt there’d be plenty of creatures among the trees.

“Perfect. And, ah … where’s the captain?” The name had become a running joke with her and Dreggs, now. Most of the time, she just called them Dreggs, but they delighted in hearing her specifically call them the captain.

Mister Mom heaved a long-suffering sigh. “The captain is belowdecks. We seem to have had a stowaway in our fishing nets.”

The way he tensed when he said it piqued Tessa’s interest.

“What kind of stowaway?”

“The kind that forecasts bad luck.” Mister Mom’s expression darkened. “Follow me to your quarters.” And before Tessalyn could prompt for follow-up questions, he led them down the staircase into the lower decks.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of excited chaos. The pirates who’d gone hunting returned with two boars and a deer, which disappeared into the galley. Shortly after, platters of food surfaced on deck, and pirates swarmed the buffet. James had already broken off to practice swordsmanship with a few combat-ready pirates, and Tessa spent her time chatting with Mister Mom.

Of course, just as she’d retrieved a plate of food, Dreggs appeared.

“Captain on deck!” Mister Mom called.

“Aye,” a chorus arose.

Dreggs was clad in attire fit for a royal. Their shirt had ruffles upon ruffles, and their cloak was adorned in golden buttons and tassels. Their hair was long now, tied into a suave ponytail that rested over their shoulder, and a tricorne hat with an absurd feather ensured no one would miss them.

They waved at everyone, then cupped their hands and called, “Pirate Princess also on deck.”

Now the chorus was far more enthusiastic. “Aye!” Several pirates raised their glasses, and warmth filled Tessa’s chest. She flushed, waving them off, even as Dreggs sauntered up the staircase to the helm, pouting.

“Why do they sound so much more enthusiastic about her?” they complained to Mister Mom.

The quartermaster offered a shrug. “Do you really want my answer?”

Dreggs gasped, mock-offended. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am. Which is why I like her better, too.”

“Aww, shucks.” Tessa grinned. She held open her arms, pulling Dreggs into a hug. Happiness brought tears to her eyes. It felt good to have a real parent, especially after years convinced she’d never know half of her heritage.

Dreggs clearly felt the same, because they swept her into a hug so firm she nearly grunted. “Hey, kid!”

So much love was infused into those words that a lump formed in Tessa’s throat. She cleared it, even as they pulled away to assess her.

“You look good! Glad to see the Capital isn’t boring you half to death.”

“No, it’s fascinating,” Tessalyn raved. “The royal library is massive, and half their books are exclusive property of the crown. No copies anywhere, not even at the university in Leonol. I’ve had an amazing time researching—” She cut herself off, mostly because Dreggs looked so interested that it actually caught her off guard. “Ah, never mind. I get carried away.”

“My dear, never apologize for that.” Dreggs winked, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Most folks will spend a lifetime hoping for that kind of passion. It’s a rare thing, and you’re lucky to have it.”

She flushed under the praise.

Dreggs adjusted their hat. “We’ll have plenty of time to discuss your fancy new life. In the meantime, I promised you a cruise around the Southern Seas. So, let’s get to it.” They raised their voice, their tone suddenly authoritative—something no one could ignore. “Hoist the anchor! We’re setting sail.”

It caused a frenzy on deck. There were clearly pirates off-shift, but whoever wasn’t eating leapt into action, climbing among the sails and tugging ropes into place. Overhead, the massive crimson sails unfurled, the telltale sign of Dreggs’s flagship. From the crow’s nest, one pirate raised a flag adorned with a skull and crossbones on the tallest mast.

The ship’s navigator took position at the helm, conferring with Mister Mom about their route. Dreggs, meanwhile, led Tessalyn to the bow of the ship. Now that they were moving, the breeze was almost chilly, and Dreggs wasted no time draping their cloak over Tessa’s shoulders.

“So, kid. Tell me all about the Capital. How is the new queen settling in?”

Tessa felt lighter than air. “Well, there was some dissent, but Reyna’s making sure it’s a smooth transition—”

As the Painted Death cut across the waves, the sun slid below the horizon.

The next morning, Tessalyn rounded a staircase and almost clotheslined a kid.

It happened so fast that only reflexes from training with James saved her. She flinched backward, pressing against the bulkhead as a splash of water hit the floor. Wait—water? The teenager yelped, thick black curls covering her face from view as she dropped to her knees.

“Oh, no, no,” the girl moaned.

“Ah, sorry—” Tessalyn cut herself off, realizing the girl wasn’t paying her any mind. “Are you—is everything okay?”

Carefully, the girl scooped something into what looked like … a fish bowl?

Huh.

“It’ll be fine. I think.” The girl hid the bowl from view, buried in the folds of a heavy jacket. Tessa caught a flash of blue and sloshing water before the teenager yelped “Sorry!” and fled.

Her curiosity was piqued, but Tessa was already late for morning tea. She shrugged and continued up the staircase, emerging on deck. The captain’s quarters were tucked under the helm, and she let herself inside Dreggs’s suite.

It was furnished as finely as any room in the Grand Palace. Beyond a set of thick curtains was a massive four-poster bed, tastefully made for the day. In the living area, a full tea spread was laid out on a mahogany table covered with a white cloth. Finger sandwiches and scones lined a plate, and nearby sat a custom teapot hand-painted with magnificent sea serpents.

Both rooms were empty, which was odd.

Still, Dreggs did captain an entire fleet of pirates. They were probably handling some crisis or other. Unperturbed, Tessalyn retrieved a book from her parent’s private collection—half reference books, half raunchy romance, so Tessa chose the former—then took a seat at the table and poured a cup of tea.

She’d just finished the opening chapter of The History of Sails when Dreggs burst into their rooms.

“Apologies, my dear. My morning was a bit chaotic. We had a … erm, theft on board.”

“A theft,” Tessa drawled. “What could possibly be stolen aboard a pirate ship?”

Dreggs pinched the bridge of their nose. “It’s complicated.”

“Does it have something to do with the stowaway in the fishing nets?”

Dreggs sank into the chair across from her, reaching for the pot of tea. A metal cage with a tiny candle inside kept it hot, and steam curled from his cup as he poured. “Let me guess. Mister Mom.”

Tessa pressed her own cup to her lips, inhaling the tisane. They’d chosen an herbal blend, and she picked out the scents of chamomile, lavender, and sage. Reyna would be delighted—Tessa made a mental note to request a bag to bring home. Even the honey she stirred into the cup tasted more flowery than anything she’d tried before. Lovely.

“Mister Mom,” she agreed. “He said whatever you’d caught was a bad omen.”

“It’s actually the worst omen.” Dreggs tried to be casual about the words, but an undercurrent of concern made her pause.

“What is it?”

Dreggs heaved a sigh and pushed off their chair, trudging to the bookshelf in the bedroom. They returned minutes later with a leather-bound tome, stained dark blue and edged in gold trim. The title read Mythical Beasts of the Southern Seas, and Dreggs wasted no time flipping to the index. In moments, they found what they were looking for.

Tessalyn peered over their arm. “A coralcrest?”

The picture showed a … fish. Or maybe some kind of shark, if sharks had six fins, a long tail, and four glowing eyes. Its head was vaguely fox-shaped, albeit streamlined for ocean travel, and two tendrils below its horns almost reminded her of a catfish’s whiskers.

In the picture, it bared vicious teeth, and lightning slashed the image’s background amidst the writhing foam of a turbulent sea.

“Looks pleasant,” Tessa said, ignoring the slice of dread that slid down her spine.

Dreggs set their jaw. “It isn’t. It’s a magical creature, but one so rare I didn’t think any still existed. Sailor lore says it can manipulate the ocean and summon storms—and that it’s easily pissed off. All the stories say that even glimpsing one is a death sentence.… That your ship will be splinters on the ocean floor in days.”

Oh. Wonderful.

Silence filled the air as Tessalyn perused the book, and Dreggs sat with the glum certainty of the Painted Death’s fate.

Tessa hadn’t pinned them as a superstitious type, but she supposed that all sailors wound up that way, eventually.

“Wait, you hauled one of these out with a fishing net? It’s huge.” She gestured at the coralcrest description.

The words carnivorous and volatile caught her eye before she settled on the paragraph with weight. Some quick stone conversions in her head—the Sheparan “stone” was heavier than Leonol’s standard—offered the very technical result of: Stars damned, that’s heavy.

“We caught a baby. I think.” Dreggs sounded low-key miserable. They dropped back into the opposite chair and retrieved a finger sandwich, biting it with vigor. “How we had the misfortune to pluck a baby coralcrest with our daily haul is beyond me.”

Tessa examined the image again, her tea forgotten. “What does a baby look like?”

“A smaller, cuter version of that. It can’t be more than a few days old.” Dreggs chewed thoughtfully. “There was a nasty storm last week. It’s possible it washed toward shore. Too small to fight the currents, I bet.”

“Can you throw it back into the water?”

“That was Mister Mom’s suggestion. But it was injured in the nets.”

Tessa squinted at her parent.

Dreggs carefully avoided her gaze.

“Let me get this straight,” Tessa said, slowly. “You caught a baby harbinger of death. And against the advice of your quartermaster—and crew, I’m sure—you kept it, because it might not survive if you released it back into the ocean?”

“It’s tiny,” Dreggs exclaimed, pushing to their feet with indignant energy. “And its fin is cut. It’s having trouble swimming. I just—I couldn’t—”

Tessa burst out laughing. “You’re a big softie.”

“I’m the most nefarious pirate in the Realm. Sailors cower before me.”

Tessa took another sip of her tea. “Oh, sure. Sure.” A pause. “What if we summon Kianthe? It wouldn’t take her long to fly here, and magical creatures are half her job. A storm can’t exactly sink your ship if the Arcandor is aboard.”

Dreggs massaged their brow. “Maybe. But that brings me to problem two: the theft. Someone made off with it this morning. I have no idea if they’re going to kill it or drop it back in the ocean or something else entirely.”

Tessalyn thought back to the young girl who’d run into her—to the slosh of water and tiny blue creature she’d scooped off the floor. A smile tilted her lips. “I might have a solution there. Write a letter to Kianthe, and give me until midday.”

She drained her tea and was out the door before Dreggs could protest.

A few careful questions to some very amicable pirates narrowed down the girl’s hiding spot. To Tessalyn’s surprise, the culprit wasn’t just a ship hand. She was the niece of one of Dreggs’s alchemists, which meant they lived together in a private room among the officers’ quarters. Her aunt was busy helping the gunsmen repair one of the cannons on the gun deck, but waved Tessa towards the staircase.

“She just left the Magicary, so we’re trying to find her a job here. Been spending most of her time in that room otherwise. Just tell her I sent you, and she’ll answer the door.”

And so Tessa approached the room, listening for any noise inside. There was none—this area of the ship was quiet, except for the gentle sway of the ocean and the creaking of wood as it traversed the waves.

Tessa rapped on the door. “Nymirra? Are you in here?”

Silence.

Suspicion prickled along Tessa’s arms. She knocked harder. “Nymirra? Your aunt sent me.”

A scuffle, a curse, and then the door creaked open. As an afterthought, the girl beyond braced her foot on the inside of the door—as if to stop Tessa from shoving her way inside. She scanned Tessalyn with guarded features.

And almost instantly, recognition flashed. The girl sucked in air.

“Y-You’re the captain’s daughter.”

“I am,” Tessa agreed good-naturedly.

“You’re an actual princess.” Now the girl’s eyes widened. She was young, thirteen at most. Not a kid, but … Stars, she felt like a child to Tessa.

Tessa quirked an eyebrow. “A pirate princess, maybe.”

“No, for the Queendom!” For the first time, enthusiasm took hold in the girl’s tone. “We heard all about you in the Magicary. How the Mage of Ages married a Queensguard, and then a Queendom heir showed up to seize the throne, but she was beaten back by the vicious Queen Tilaine, and the Arcandor’s wife swooped in at the last second to save you!”

That … wasn’t quite how it happened, but if it got the girl talking to her, Tessa would take it. She shrugged. “Well, now Reyna is queen and I’m just Dreggs’s daughter. Can I come in?”

Suspicion returned instantly. “Why?”

Tessa lowered her voice, leaning closer. “Because I heard there’s a mythical creature on board. And I saw you had it, after you hit me earlier today.”

Nymirra grimaced. “I didn’t—that was my pet—”

Tessa quirked an eyebrow, and Nymirra cut herself off. Her face paled, and she clenched her eyes shut. “If I show you, do you promise not to toss it overboard?”

“On the Dastardly Pirate Dreggs’s honor, I will not toss it overboard.” Tessa raised a hand to seal the oath.

The teenager heaved a sigh and pulled the door open farther. Tessa slid inside. The room was small, somehow cozy. Two beds were in one corner, the heads squared against a bedside table. Two large portholes had been opened to receive the midday breeze. There was a wooden table with three chairs, and every surface was adorned with some kind of potted plant.

It almost felt like New Leaf Tomes and Tea, back in Tawney.

“My aunt likes plants, even if the elements didn’t like her back.” Nymirra rubbed her arm, her cheeks flushing.

Tessa recalled what her aunt had said about the Magicary. “Are you an elemental mage?”

It was the wrong thing to ask. The girl set her jaw. “No. The elements didn’t like me much, either.”

Tessa realized that a glowing alchemy circle had been placed under each pot. “What do the circles do?” She didn’t think alchemy and elemental magic mixed.

“It keeps them healthy without using the ship’s water supply.”

“Fascinating.” Tessalyn squinted at the circles, taking mental note of their design.

From what she’d learned from Kianthe, all mages started with the elements. As they aged, some lost connection with the Stone of Seeing. If that happened, their options were to become an alchemist … or a life of theoretical study into a magic they couldn’t perform.

The only other alchemist Tessa knew was Diarn Feo, and they wouldn’t care about a spell like this. But ironically, Kianthe would probably be fascinated. Might earn Reyna some points with her wife if Tessa could copy the symbol.

“How is the spell powered?” Tessa was thoroughly distracted now, tapping the luscious leaf of a philodendron. It felt waxen, exactly as she’d expect.

“Blood.” Nymirra sounded exasperated. “Like all alchemy.”

“Animal blood?”

Now Nymirra shifted, tucking her hand in her pocket. “When we can get it.”

Tessa opened her mouth to ask what happened when they couldn’t, but that was when her eyes caught the fish bowl under the table. It had been shoved behind the chairs, a clear attempt to hide it without disturbing anything else in the small room.

And inside it was a tiny blue creature.

The coralcrest.

It was maybe the size of her hand, almost too small for the bowl it was swimming in. Its body was covered in blue scales, ones that glimmered deep navy in the shadows and shifted to white when the light hit them. Cycloid scales? Or something stiffer, like placoid? The monochrome picture in that book didn’t do its color justice. Even its eyes were a mesmerizing ruby red.

Of course, its anatomy wasn’t that of an adult coralcrest yet. It had four fully formed fins, and a third set that seemed to have just emerged. Its tail was barely a stub, with the hint of a fin lancing out. Its horns hadn’t grown in yet, and its whisker-like tendrils were barely longer than its head. But there was no mistaking it.

Its fin was injured—she could see the jagged red line on the front left one. It purposefully didn’t move that fin when it was swimming.

No wonder Dreggs hadn’t wanted to release it.

“Oh,” Tessa breathed. “Aren’t you a pretty thing?”

The creature cowered against the glass of the bowl.

“You’re scaring it,” Nymirra exclaimed, and put herself between them. She bent towards the bowl and wiggled her fingers in the water. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

And to Tessa’s amazement, the creature trilled—a sound that echoed off the glass like a whale’s song—and rubbed against Nymirra’s fingers. It almost looked like a cat accepting pets from a beloved owner.

“Well.” Tessa rubbed the back of her neck. “This complicates things.”

“You want her to keep it.” The Dastardly Pirate Dreggs assessed the teenager before them.

The coralcrest was still in the girl’s room, although it had been relocated to the tabletop. It seemed fascinated with an ivy plant nearby, ignoring the humans in favor of bumping the glass to see the leaves better.

Nymirra noticed and quietly slid the strand of ivy into the water.

The coralcrest trilled happily and raced around it, poking its snout through the leaves. It was still limping—or the swimming version of it—but the beast was clearly too delighted by the ivy to care. It probably lived in a seaweed forest at this age, in its natural habitat.

At Tessalyn’s side, James crossed his arms. “This seems like a bad idea.”

“Look. Even if it could manipulate storms and ocean waters as an adult, it’s too little for that now.” Tessalyn gestured at the bowl. “I somehow doubt this tiny creature will bring death and destruction on the entire crew. And you clearly felt the same, or you’d have tossed it yesterday.” Now Tessa stared the captain down.

Dreggs frowned, massaging their jaw. “Hmm.”

“Didn’t you say it sank ships?” James asked. “I remember hearing the words ‘in the trenches.’ As in, our bodies will be so far below water even Kianthe couldn’t find us. Doesn’t that concern you?”

“It’s a superstition.” Tessa waved his fears away. “I’d love to know how you think this tiny thing can sink our ship.”

“It isn’t the baby I’m worried about. Its parent must be lurking somewhere.” James set his jaw.

Dreggs didn’t take their eyes off the creature. After a moment, they sighed. “How about a compromise?”

Tessa’s brows raised. “What are you thinking?”

“We can’t keep it aboard for long. It’s already almost too big for that bowl, and we’ll run out of areas to relocate it. But I don’t imagine that fin will take long to heal, especially if someone—say, a budding alchemist without a job on the ship—is willing to care for it.”

Nymirra perked up.

A slow smile tilted Dreggs’s lips. “So. How about we take this day by day. I’ve sent a messenger hawk to summon the Arcandor. Until she arrives to assess the creature’s ability to survive in the ocean, you can watch it. And if it looks like it might drown us all, you’ll tell Mister Mom, won’t you?”

“Yes, Captain,” the girl squeaked.

“Excellent.” Dreggs swept out their cloak, heading for the door. It had almost closed when Tessa heard them mutter, “I suppose now we see if the Stars favor us.”

By Tessa’s standard, the Stars certainly favored them. They sailed in fair winds toward the Roiling Islands, moving expertly through a hidden channel that bypassed the dangerous rapids. They docked in a port town there, one swathed in revelry and merriment, and Tessalyn danced and drank her memories away.

After that, they sailed north, aiming for a trade route along the southeastern edge of Shepara. Tessalyn felt bad that the crew of the Painted Death were effectively hunting for their next victims, but Dreggs just snickered and replied, “My dear, we have to earn our coin like everyone else.”

Tessa could have argued that, but she decided she just didn’t care. Piracy off the coast of Shepara was outside her jurisdiction.

The entire time, Tessalyn kept tabs on Nymirra and the coralcrest. They upgraded its tank, and every day its wound looked less jagged. A nice scar was forming, but it didn’t seem to slow the creature down. As an afterthought, they’d filled its tank with plants and oddities like metal bowls and ceramic pots. The coralcrest delighted in weaving through its ever-changing environment, even with the injury.

Nymirra, meanwhile, seemed more and more downcast.

“Everything okay?” Tessa had arrived with dinner. Now they sat at the table, admiring the tank before them. It usually housed fish in the galley—fresh fish were always nicer to eat than iced ones—and the seawater sloshed gently with the ever-present sway of the ship.

Nymirra rolled a boiled potato around her plate. “Fine. Just sad.”

“About what?”

“Life.” The teenager heaved a worlds-weary sigh.

Tessa barely refrained from chuckling. “Anything more specific?”

Nymirra abandoned her plate to tap the water with her fingers. Instantly, the coralcrest slid from behind one of the pots, racing to her touch. It purred—a low vibration that Tessa could feel along the table.

A sad smile tilted Nymirra’s lips. “I’m not a good mage.”

“Come on. You’re young. I’m sure you’ll be a great—”

“I won’t, but thanks.” Nymirra sank into her chair. “My mom was so proud when I left for the Magicary. She thought I’d be so in tune with the elements. ‘Maybe the next Arcandor, someday.’” Nymirra’s icy eyes were dull. “She hated that my aunt ‘chose’ alchemy. ‘Blood magic,’ she’d said. ‘Better off working an honest job.’”

Tessa frowned, glancing around the room. “You’re living with your aunt now.”

“Mom died a few years ago. Right around the same time the Stone of Seeing gave up on me.” Tears welled in Nymirra’s eyes, and she clenched them shut, withdrawing her hand from the tank. The coralcrest swam to the glass, attempting to get closer to her, but she turned away.

“Does the Stone … uh, give up … on a lot of you?”

“A little under half. The mages at the Magicary said it’s random, but…” Nymirra stabbed the potato with her fork. “I don’t know. I could have stayed to keep studying, but I missed home. Of course, home was gone by then, but my aunt’s pretty nice.”

Tessa smiled. “You have a good place to live, at least. The captain is glad you’re here.”

“Well, Captain Dreggs is hoping for another alchemist.” Nymirra grimaced, swallowing like the potato was a lump of coal instead.

Hmm. Tessa doubted that, but she sensed now wasn’t the time to interrupt.

Nymirra’s eyes dropped to her plate. “My aunt says it’s a profession. That alchemy is a means to an end, and there’s no shame in it. But then I felt the magic pulsing in the coralcrest, and—I don’t know. For a moment, it was like … like maybe the Stone of Seeing was wrong.”

Tessalyn’s heart twinged, and her hand clenched around her own fork. She could imagine the pain of feeling a deity forsake them. Of feeling magic, only to watch its power dwindle during one’s most formative years.

It was a wonder more alchemists weren’t utterly ruined, mentally.

She squeezed Nymirra’s shoulder. “What did the magic feel like?”

It was a good distraction. Nymirra’s eyes refocused on the coralcrest, and she smiled slightly. “Elemental magic always felt like a warmth, straight through my core. This was the same. I felt the coralcrest crying for help when it was caught, and when I stole it, it felt … safe.”

“Safety is a special kind of magic,” Tessalyn said quietly.

Nymirra looked at her, then murmured, “Yeah.”

The silence stretched between them.

Finally, Nymirra said, “I don’t want it to go back home.” She hunched in guilt at the admission.

Tessa frowned. “What do you mean?”

Nymirra lightly drummed her fingers on the glass, watching the coralcrest tapping each spot with its tail. Absently, she rested her chin on her arms. “I’m not a good sailor. I’m not a good alchemist either. They keep trying to give me jobs, and I’m bad at all of them.”

But she was good at helping the coralcrest.

Tessa leaned back in her chair, watching the pair of them. “I think this proves you can be good at whatever job you enjoy.”

“I guess.” Nymirra swallowed, averting her gaze.

“Want to know what I think?”

The girl shrugged.

Tessa smirked. “You’re more capable than you think. You’re the girl who helped a mythical sea monster and lived to tell the tale. You’re the daughter who’s already made her mother proud. Maybe you’ll be a great alchemist, and help people like your aunt. Either way, you’re doing great.”

“I don’t … like killing things for magic.” Nymirra pressed her lips together.

Tessalyn couldn’t blame her. In the tank, the coralcrest drifted to the sandy bottom, partially burying itself. Tessa smiled.

“Well, that’s a good choice too, then. No matter what anyone says, you can be anything you want, Nym. And that’s very exciting.”

Nymirra flushed, but hope tinged her quiet response. “Thanks.”

All smooth sailing ended sometime—and the Stars stopped shining half a week later.

This storm was different. They’d had lighter showers since she boarded the ship, but this one started with a blood-red sky. Tessalyn stepped onto the deck for her morning ritual of tea with Dreggs only to find them alongside Mister Mom, eyeing the clouds in the distance.

“Pretty sunrise,” Tessa remarked.

“Red is a bad omen. Gonna be a rough day,” Dreggs muttered.

“I have a suggestion, but I won’t waste my breath.” Mister Mom offered the captain a knowing look before strolling off-deck.

The waves grew violent as the sky slid into a slate gray, the color of water poisoned with coal dust. The wind made it impossible for Tessalyn to leave her hair down, and high overhead, the pirates scurried up the masts to secure the sails. As the ship rocked and rolled, their shouts moved in cohesive urgency, the deck a sudden flurry of movement.

“Prepare for the storm,” Mister Mom bellowed as he stalked across deck.

Dreggs set their jaw, narrowed their eyes at the storm, and stepped below deck.

Tessalyn cast a panicked glance at James, but her best friend was holding onto a thick rope alongside three other men, keeping the boom steady while four higher up tied the sails. He had other duties, which meant this was up to her.

Tessa followed her parent, catching them at the base of the staircase. “Dreggs. Hang on a moment. We don’t know it’s the coral—”

“Don’t say that word.” Dreggs spun toward her instantly, face as stormy as the skies outside, and Tessalyn clamped her mouth shut. For the first time, her parent looked like a fearsome pirate captain. They’d never hurt her, but in that moment, she could tell why they’d also never been challenged for the position of captain.

Their eyes went to an officer thundering past them. Tense silence lingered as the officer hastened up the stairs, tugging on a coat. When he was gone, Dreggs drew a short breath, lowering their voice. “Folks trust me because there’s safety on this ship. I intend to keep it that way.”

The ship lurched left, and Tessalyn had to brace herself to keep from crashing into the wall. Dreggs moved with the waves, as fluid as the ocean, but their hard gaze never wavered.

Tessa tried anyway. “It’s an old tale. We’ve had plenty of bright days since you found it—there’s hardly a correlation.”

Dreggs stepped close, brows pulling upward in a moment of raw vulnerability. “What if it is true? Are you willing to risk the lives of three hundred people? Of the children belowdecks?” They paused, drawing a fortifying breath. When they met her gaze again, there was no remorse. “We’re out of time.”

Thunder cracked overhead, and the shouts grew more panicked.

Dreggs turned away from her, reaching their destination in a few steps. They banged on the door. “Nymirra! Open up.”

No one defied the captain. Nymirra unlocked the door and pulled it open, tears streaming down her face. “You can’t! It’s not fully healed yet.”

Even as their flagship rocked around them, Dreggs was the calm in the storm. Their words left no room for argument. “I’m sorry, my dear.”

A standoff.

Nymirra sniffed, her voice quiet. “It’ll die.”

“Or it may thrive. Either way, it’s out of our hands.” Dreggs crossed their arms, waiting.

Nymirra wiped her eye with a palm and stepped aside.

Tessa hovered in the doorway as Dreggs retrieved one of the ceramic pots from the bottom of the tank. Water had already sloshed from the tank’s open top, and Nymirra had laid towels over the wooden floor to absorb it. Inside the tank, the coralcrest looked just as scared as Nymirra, cowering away from Dreggs.

Dreggs didn’t try to fish the creature out with the pot. Instead, they glanced at Nymirra.

Waiting for her help.

“It’s okay,” the teenager whispered to the tank. She slid her own hand into the tank, wiggling her fingers near the mouth of the pot Dreggs held. “Come on. It’s time to go home.” Her voice cracked at the last word.

The coralcrest looked between the humans, then trustingly swam into the wide-mouthed pot.

A shuddering sob overtook Nymirra. Tessa braced herself against the door frame, swallowing past the lump in her throat.

Dreggs hauled the pot out of the tank, moving with practiced grace under the rocking ship. Tessa followed, staying on their heels. Trailing farther back, Nymirra sniffled, meek and devastated. It felt like a funeral march.

No one intervened.

They climbed to the deck. Mister Mom took one look at Dreggs, at the pot in their hands, and moved to the opposite side of the deck, shouting commands to draw any wandering eyes. Pounding rain slammed onto the ship, lowering visibility further. Trapped in the maelstrom, they were nearly invisible.

Dreggs led them to a private area of the deck, hidden behind the staircase to the helm. Here, a hushed calm overtook them, and the shouts of the pirate crew faded. Dreggs asked Nymirra, “Shall I? Or would you prefer to do it?”

A final courtesy.

Inside the pot, barely visible through the wide mouth, the coralcrest swam in panicked circles. Overhead, lightning arced across the sky. The resulting clap of thunder shuddered the ship, which lurched under the huge waves. A spray of water nearly soaked them.

“I … I can.” Nymirra might be crying again, although it was hard to tell.

Dreggs handed her the pot.

The girl approached the railing, holding it like a treasure. She bent closer to the ceramic mouth, trailing one finger inside. Tessa could imagine the coralcrest winding around her like a hug.

Nymirra’s words were for the mythical creature alone, but through some grace, Tessalyn caught them.

“Thank you. Be strong for me, okay?”

At Tessalyn’s side, Dreggs clenched their fists. Maybe it was the rocking of the ship, but it looked like they were trembling.

Nymirra drew a slow breath, kissed the pot’s smooth surface—then dropped it overboard.

Tessalyn surged forward. Together, she and Nymirra leaned over the railing as the frothy waves rose to meet the pot … and swallowed it whole. A breath that felt like an eternity passed, and Nymirra choked on a sob.

The coralcrest was gone.

“I’m sorry,” Tessa whispered.

Nymirra didn’t respond for a while. When she did, it was barely audible. “It’ll be okay.”

Except for a moment, in the howling wind, it almost sounded like Nymirra said, “It said it’ll be okay.” But that wasn’t right—Tessalyn must have misheard. And then Nymirra was crying in earnest, and Tessa didn’t want to pry.

Dreggs squeezed the girl’s shoulder, but didn’t offer any comforting words. Maybe there wasn’t anything left to say. Silently, the captain of the Painted Death left to aid their crew.

Tessa, meanwhile, hugged Nymirra.

Then they lingered in the rain, staring at the writhing ocean far below.

And maybe it was Tessa’s imagination, but she swore she saw a glimmer of blue scales in the icy gray water.

“Wow. You look like hells,” Kianthe called.

Visk thumped to the sodden deck a breath later, feathers fluffed from the flight. Kianthe had a heavy cloak over her shoulders, grimacing at the icy air, the chaos of the ship after a fierce storm. The rising sun would dry things eventually, but for now it only served to cast a soft golden glow over them.

“Thanks,” James said. He’d been up most of the night helping the crew, and now he staggered for the staircase. “That’s all you, Tess. I’m out.”

“Sleep well,” she said, but he was already gone.

Kianthe dismounted, and Tessalyn didn’t hesitate to pull her into a hug. “Stars, it’s good to see you.” She retreated just as fast, swatting Kianthe’s arm. “Where were you last night?”

The mage assessed the deck, the bone-weary crew. Most had followed James’s footsteps, retiring downstairs for some well-earned sleep, but a few still managed the sails. Kianthe whistled low. “Missing a party, apparently. Must have been five hells of a storm.”

Visk preened his feathers, stretching his wings. The deck was plenty wide to accommodate him, but a few pirates still yelped and skittered out of the griffon’s way.

Kianthe patted his flank and lowered her voice. “The coralcrest, I imagine?”

“We … don’t know. We released it during the storm, just to be safe.” Tessa grimaced. “Things did get better after.”

For a moment, she half expected Kianthe to swell in fury, to rant and rave about the indignancy of an injured mythical beast set free in a massive storm. Helping those creatures was her job, after all—but the Mage of Ages just pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Good. Keeping that thing on board was a death sentence.”

Tessa balked. Hearing it from superstitious sailors was one thing, but she never thought she’d hear Kianthe saying that. “Really? It was barely bigger than my fist.”

A haunted look had overtaken the Arcandor’s eyes. “Trust me, Tess. Creatures of the sea are a different breed. Even my magic can’t compare.” With a shake of her head, she strolled toward the captain’s quarters. “Now, where’s Dreggs? I’d love a good cup of tea.”

Tessa followed, feeling off-balance. It was unsettling to hear the Mage of Ages admitting she fell short of the magic Tessa had lived beside for a week. Did that coralcrest really summon the storm? Or was it all just a big coincidence?

She might never get answers.

Inside the captain’s quarters, Nymirra was perched on a tufted couch, shoulders hunched. Across the room, Dreggs steeped a bag of tea as Nymirra’s aunt paced and ranted.

“—dangerous creature right beside our beds. You told me it was harmless. That we were going to sell it at Jallin’s market next time we went ashore. I thought it’d be good for Mirra’s confidence to keep it alive—and now I learn it was a coralcrest? Are you out of your Stars-damned mind?”

“Only on special occasions,” Dreggs commented absently. Their eyes caught Kianthe’s, and a weary smile tilted their lips. “Ah, Arcandor. Perfect timing.”

“Your boobs still look great,” Kianthe drawled. “Try something lower cut next time. Just to really accentuate them.”

Dreggs snorted, absently glancing down at their chest. “You know, I somehow didn’t think about that when my flagship was one bad wave from capsizing. How odd.”

“Next time.” Kianthe shrugged.

Nymirra’s aunt stopped short. “Well. At least you knew enough to call the Arcandor.”

“Charmed.” Kianthe swept her arms out in a mock bow.

Dreggs cleared their throat. “Alvia.”

The alchemist glanced at her captain, arms crossed. “What?”

Dreggs rose to their feet, dusting off their pants. Their gaze was sharp, their tone firm. “I’ll remind you that calculated risks are oftentimes part of the job. Remember that you are a willing member of a pirate ship—on which I am your captain.”

“And you”—Alvia stepped forward, eyes narrowing—“would do well to remember that twenty years ago, I recommended you enforce an age limit for our crew. Instead, what did you promise me?”

Kianthe folded her arms, clearly amused by this woman. Tessa had to admit, she could see a family resemblance between Alvia and Nymirra now that they were side by side. Maybe Nymirra would find her aunt’s fire someday.

Dreggs’s lips twitched. “I promised that I would keep the children safe.”

“Exactly. Remember that next time you keep a mythical beast of destruction in our bedroom.” And with a decisive lift of her chin, she beckoned for Nymirra. “Come on, hon. Let’s go.”

Kianthe cleared her throat. “Ah, hang on. Do you mind if I have a moment with your…”

“Niece,” Tessa supplied.

“Yes. A moment with your niece.”

Alvia paused, but even alchemists respected the Arcandor. She dipped her head in acquiescence. “Dreggs, we have business discussing repairs anyway. Find me downstairs afterward, Mirra. I’ll make us some tea, and we’ll get some sleep.”

“Okay,” Nymirra replied quietly.

Dreggs cast a glance between them, then shrugged and wordlessly followed Alvia outside. Their conversation shifted from accusations to logistics, and the door shut behind them.

Silence filled the luxurious rooms. Sunlight filtered through the paned windows. The seas were calm now, another gorgeous day in the Southern Seas.

Kianthe dropped to the couch beside Nymirra, stretching her arms over her head. She yawned loudly. “So. Your aunt seems fun.”

“She’s protective,” Nymirra remarked neutrally.

More silence.

Tessalyn took a seat at the table. Only one teacup was out, the one Dreggs had been steeping. Clearly, Alvia had interrupted them. Dreggs probably wasn’t happy about that—they didn’t appreciate teatime interruptions.

In hindsight, Tessa probably shouldn’t have stayed either, but she was curious what Kianthe had to say to the girl. She retrieved another cup and poured herself some tea.

Nymirra stayed stiff on the cushion’s edge.

Kianthe, meanwhile, draped over the couch, tucking her legs beneath her. “You have the coralcrest’s magic all over you—which is surprising, considering you’re an alchemist.”

That only made Nymirra flinch.

“You can see the coralcrest’s magic?” Tessa couldn’t help but ask.

The Arcandor waved a hand. “I told you. Sea creatures are a different breed. They’re insanely powerful—even a little one leaves a mark, if you’re sensitive enough to look.”

“I could feel it.” Nymirra’s voice was barely a whisper. She plucked at a string on her pants.

“Not surprising, considering you still have the final hints of elemental magic.” Now Kianthe’s tone dropped into rare sympathy. “I’m sorry the Stone of Seeing pulled away from you. There’s nothing worse than having magic, only to lose it without knowing why.”

Tears sprung in Nymirra’s eyes, and she clenched them shut. Anger filtered into her voice. “It’s awful.”

“I remember. Before the last Arcandor died, I was losing elemental magic too.”

That did it. Nymirra pivoted towards her. “You were not.”

“Please. The Stone couldn’t wait to be rid of me.” Kianthe snorted. “Or so I thought. Apparently, our deity has a sense of humor.”

Nymirra clenched her jaw. “Well, becoming the Mage of Ages isn’t an option … so what’s my path supposed to be?”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with alch—” Kianthe paused, noting her expression. “No, you’re right. It’s a bullshit backup, and we all know it.” She stretched out, heaving a sigh. “I don’t know, kid. I think that’s up to you to decide. Pirating sounds pretty fun.”

Tessalyn watched Nymirra sink into herself, and decided to intervene. “Kianthe, do you think the coralcrest survived? That storm was pretty vicious.”

Nymirra perked up. Kianthe, meanwhile, massaged her forehead, choosing her words carefully.

“I didn’t see the state it was in. I’ll ask the ocean if it can find it, but something that small in something so big? The water might not even know where it went.” Now Kianthe squeezed Nymirra’s arm. “But you showed it more kindness than most. Wherever it winds up, I’m sure it will remember you.”

That, finally, made Nymirra smile.

“You think?”

Tessalyn couldn’t tell if Kianthe was lying—but if she was, it was damn convincing.

The Arcandor grinned. “I know it.”

“You don’t have to leave so soon, you know,” Dreggs said, nearly pouting.

James thumped back into the dinghy, and the sailor from Jallin offered a cheery hello. Clearly, his appreciation for coin overruled his fear of the pirates, especially after his clean break dropping them off.

James held the rope ladder steady, waiting for Tessalyn to follow him down.

Their vacation had moved fast. So much faster than she expected … or wanted.

Still, the Realm’s politics didn’t pause just because she craved a break. She swept Dreggs into a hug. “It’s been three weeks, the captain.” She waited until they laughed, as they always did with that stupid name. When they separated, she smiled wide. “It’s time to go home. The Queendom needs my help right now.”

“I understand. Important things ahead.” Dreggs gripped her arms, pride in their voice.

On deck, several of their pirates had clustered to say goodbye. Nymirra and her aunt were among the crowd. Mister Mom lurked on the edges, appearing almost morose. It made it harder to say goodbye, somehow.

“At least I have two homes now. It’s pretty nice.” Tessa pressed a kiss to Dreggs’s cheek.

Dreggs beamed. “And you always will.”

That made her all warm and fuzzy. Tessa slung herself over the banister, carefully climbing the rope ladder. “Don’t pick up any more strays. And Nymirra!”

“Yeah?” the girl replied, caution in her tone.

Tessa held her gaze over the banister. “I can’t wait to see what you become.”

The teenager shifted awkwardly, even as her aunt chuckled and rubbed her back. The girl’s words were deadpan, but held a hint of humor. “Thanks. Sea’s the limit.”

“There are no limits.” Tessalyn winked. “Bye, everyone!” And she climbed down the ladder, landing on the dinghy beside James. The pirates all crowded the banister, waving as she took a seat on the small boat, as the sailor from Jallin unfurled the sail.

“I’m going to miss them,” Tessa remarked.

“I miss dry land,” James said.

And as they sailed home, a tiny coralcrest played in the waves behind them.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I have to start this acknowledgment with a big hug to my own partner, Audrey. When I first wrote Treason in 2022, I had no idea my best friend and beta reader would become my girlfriend, fiancée, and wife. I wrote Kianthe and Reyna with all the love I hoped to find someday—and now, looking back, I was spot-on. Audrey, I love spending every day laughing with you, snuggling with you, and planning life with you. Thank you for all the adventures, now and everything to come!

As always, thank you to my family—and my found family. My friends are the best out there, and I know I can attempt anything with their support. And my family deserves all my gratitude, for teaching me about the world and cheering me on in every venture. Special shout-out to my sister, Paige, for being the best sibling ever.;)

Next, a huge thank-you to the amazing folks at Tor—US and UK! The editors who helped make this book as strong as possible, the publicists and marketers who plastered this book everywhere, and every other member of this incredible publisher. I’ve truly never met a more inspiring, passionate group of people.

As always, a big shout-out to my literary agent, Taryn Fagerness, for all her unrelenting support. Without you, Taryn, things would be so much harder. Thanks for all your incredible work!

I’m also so, so appreciative of the support I’ve received for this series! To all the booksellers and librarians who tirelessly hand-sell this book to readers—you are everything, and I’m so grateful for it. The words of encouragement I’ve received from you all as I tour the country are incredible. Thanks for making it easier when I’m away from home!

And a huge thanks to the social media followers and viewers who have pushed this series all over TikTok and Instagram. I’m overwhelmed with messages every day about how folks loved these books, and I can’t imagine a better life than this.

Finally, a huge thanks to you, my lovely reader. To the dreamers who imagine life with dragons and griffons and royalty and magic—I hope I’ll always get to provide that escape.

Until next time … Kianthe and Reyna’s final adventure. See you for the Tomes & Tea quartet’s conclusion!

THE TOMES & TEA SERIES

Can’t Spell Treason Without Tea

A Pirate’s Life for Tea

Tea You at the Altar

About the Author

REBECCA THORNE is a USA Today, indie, and Sunday Times bestselling author, specializing in fantasy, sci-fi, and romance.

She is a proud member of the LGBTQIA+ community, hails from sunny Arizona, and uses her ADHD as a superpower to write multiple books a year. When she’s not writing (or avoiding writing), Thorne can be found traveling the country as a flight attendant, hiking with her dogs and lovely wife, or basking in the sun like a lizard. You can sign up for email updates here.

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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

TEA YOU AT THE ALTAR

Copyright © 2025 by Rebecca Thorne

All rights reserved.

Cover art by Irene Huang

Map by Rebecca Thorne

Chapter ornaments by Amphi

Tip-in illustration by Eilene Huang

A Bramble Book

Published by Tom Doherty Associates / Tor Publishing Group

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New York, NY 10271

www.torpublishinggroup.com

Bramble™ is a trademark of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC.

The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

ISBN 978-1-250-33325-4 (trade paperback)

ISBN 978-1-250-33326-1 (ebook)

eISBN 9781250333261

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First Edition: 2025

Contents

1. Title Page

2. Copyright Notice

3. Dedication

4. Map

5. Prologue. Kianthe

6. 1. Reyna

7. 2. Kianthe

8. 3. Reyna

9. 4. Kianthe

10. 5. Reyna

11. 6. Kianthe

12. 7. Reyna

13. 8. Kianthe

14. 9. Reyna

15. 10. Kianthe

16. 11. Reyna

17. 12. Kianthe

18. 13. Reyna

19. 14. Kianthe

20. 15. Reyna

21. 16. Kianthe

22. 17. Reyna

23. 18. Kianthe

24. 19. Reyna

25. 20. Kianthe

26. 21. Reyna

27. 22. Kianthe

28. 23. Reyna

29. 24. Kianthe

30. 25. Reyna

31. 26. Kianthe

32. 27. Reyna

33. 28. Kianthe

34. 29. Reyna

35. Epilogue

36. Reyna and Kianthe will return in the final installment of the Tomes & Tea quartet.

37. Acknowledgments

38. The Tomes & Tea series

39. About the Author

40. Copyright