When I'd gotten up the morning before Sacrit, over six months ago, I'd dressed in my brothers' clothes. The shirt had hung too big around my shoulders, the trousers had needed to be hemmed. I'd poked four new holes into the leather belt and it still hadn't sat snuggly on my hips. My hair had been shorter, my face dirtier. But I'd had hope—raw and fledgling.

Back then, I'd dressed to escape.

Today, I dressed for battle.

***

The Royal Dining Room.

Oredison Palace, Gazda.

Less than two weeks before Sanctus Aurelia.

Caine's hand lingered on my wrist as he examined the morning's mail—two letters, one addressed to Larkin Warwick and the other addressed to Graves. The intended recipients hardly mattered, Mirren Caine read everything. There was nothing he didn't see, nothing that he didn't calculate and examine. That's why I'd been careful in how I'd dressed.

I'd spent the hours before dawn going through everything in my closet, weighing the options. There were no stylists, no one to tell me how to dress or what I should do. But with Uri's voice always so clear in my mind, I found it easy to pair the items—to craft a mask for myself.

Whatever was on the first letter must have annoyed Caine because his grip on my wrist grew painful, his nails digging into my flesh as he slapped the paper to the dining room table and picked up the second envelope. In an instant a footman was next to us, a letter opener in hand. Caine handed over the second piece of mail, his expression annoyed and impatient.

I watched the footman slide the small blade across the wax seal. For a moment, I imagined that I held the knife and that the crisp white paper was the skin of Caine's throat. Goddess, I could do it. I could kill him. And I'd enjoy it.

It wouldn't be like Tessa in the arena. I'd have no guilt. It would be quick, easy.

He'd be breathing one minute and not the next. I wondered if Kai would look at me then. What would he do? I was desperate to find out. Desperate to get this man's hands off me. But I didn't let those thoughts move past my mind and onto my face.

I was all innocence.

Wide eyes, parted lips, raised brows.

Confused.

This was a part I could play easily enough.

It was what he expected of me.

After all, I'd been fooled before.

Stupid girl. Stupid, heartsick girl.

When the footman was finished, he handed the envelope back to Caine. The pressure on my wrist disappeared as he slipped the letter from its casing. Mirren Caine's eyes didn't leave the paper as he said, "Miss Benson, aren't you hungry?"

For a moment, my resolve wavered and I shook my head.

There would be tacet in the food. The drug only lasted about six hours or so. Usually, I would go to bed freezing, the roiling flame of my power silenced—like embers doused in cold water. By morning, the effects of tacet had usually subsided enough that I was able to feel the bare edges of my ability—some mornings, my mark would even glow.

Just then, I could feel the rising pulse of my fire. There was no way to access it, not when Caine and everyone else in Oredison Palace were under the influence, but I felt a little more like myself without having it in my system.

He hummed in response—to the contents of the second letter or to me, I wasn't sure. After a moment he said, "Isn't the food good enough for you? Did you like it better when it was poisoned?"

It is poisoned, I wanted to say. And you are no less vile than Viera.

But I only shrugged. "It's Erydian tradition for the king to eat first. Viera may have poisoned the food, but she never shied away from ceremony. And she never lied about who she was. I may not prefer poison, but I do prefer honesty."

Across the table from me, Kai was careful to keep his attention trained on the printed Culling announcement spread across the table in front of him. But for a moment, his body was still, every muscle tensed as he waited to see how Caine would react. I prepared myself too—sure I would be escorted from the table. Caine would have me locked in my room for my insolence.

And that's what I wanted. I wanted away from this table. Away from Caine. From tacet. From the young man who sat inches away from me.

But Caine didn't send me away—he merely smiled to himself.

I couldn't decide if that angered or excited me. It was definitely a change from his regular behavior. I'd spent the past few weeks needling Caine—correcting him and reminding him of Erydian traditions he'd rather ignore. Each time, he'd slap me or burn me or send me away. But he could do nothing to avoid the truth of what I was saying.

While each correction was a slight insult, it also showed him how important I was. And that was what I needed him to see. When Caine looked at me, I needed him to see me as a tool—a way to make Kai's rule more solid.

And each of his responses had grown weaker, his willingness to listen more evident.

Today—showing up dressed like this—I knew I looked the part.

The dress I'd chosen was navy blue, the simple circle skirt hemmed to just below my knees. The cap sleeves and row of velvet buttons across the front of the bodice all sang a song of modesty and refinement. While Uri had been my inspiration for the dress change, Britta had been the person I'd wanted to imitate.

I knew that this dress was a stark difference from the cotton day dresses and boots I'd usually wear. I wanted it to convey a message—not only to Caine but to anyone else that might see me in it. I wanted it to give me the courage I lacked.

As Caine's gaze settled onto his nephew's empty plate, I knew it was working.

He opened his mouth to speak to Kai, but halted as the door of the dining room creaked open and Graves breezed in. He gave a half-assed bow towards Kai and then scurried to Caine's side; his gruff voice too low for me to hear as he delivered his message.

While his uncle was distracted, Kai looked to me. For a moment, his fingers twitched against the table and I wondered if he would reach across and take my hand. I wondered what I would do if he tried.

It had been over a month since we'd really talked. I mean, we'd spoken at each other plenty—but it wasn't the same as holding a conversation. Every interaction between us was heavily monitored. Caine rarely left me alone and when he did, there were at least two guards watching me in his stead. And the king... Kai had his own personal guard now. Those five guards were loyal only to Caine.

Everyone was loyal to Caine.

Every spy and soldier the Culled had replaced within Larkin's court was trained and paid by Mirren Caine. There was no order the king could give that Caine could not easily override. So, as Caine leaned back in his chair and said, "Kaius, your mother will be joining us for the Culling preamble," I knew the sudden fear on the king's face was genuine.

His gaze tore from mine, surprise making his golden eyes flash like sparks. Kai swallowed hard and shook his head. "No. That—That isn't necessary."

"Oh, I think it is." Caine waved Graves away from his side. "With the Culling beginning, we have no guarantee that Miss Benson will still be here in a month's time. I'd prefer to have a level of insurance so I know you'll continue to behave yourself."

In an instant, Kai was on his feet, his hands braced on the table, his body leaned towards Caine as if he'd strangle him right then and there. Do it, I wanted to say. Come on, Kai. Fight back.

His voice was soft, a low growl as he said, "If you put Monroe back in that arena, I swear—"

The door to the dining room opened again and guards filtered in. For a moment, I thought they were there for him—prepared to stop the king from killing his uncle—but then I saw a flash of familiar dirty blond curls. Before anyone could stop me, I was out of my seat and in Cohen's arms.

For an instant, he was holding me.

My voice broke as I asked, "Are you okay? Have they hurt you?"

Before he could answer, guards converged on us. Hands tightened on my arms, and then I was being hauled away from him. Caine's voice was calm as he said, "Return Miss Benson to her seat."

They did as he ordered, shoving me roughly into my chair. Kai still stood, his jaw clenched, his eyes cold as stone. I tried to yank away from the guards, but they held me firm. Cohen was ushered towards a seat across the table from mine. More guards entered, Nadia, Heidi, Kinsley, and Larkin with them. I tensed, trying to prepare for whatever game Caine was setting up.

I'd thought I was in charge. I'd come here prepared to bargain with Caine.

Not this—whatever it was.

Nadia collapsed into the chair next to mine. Her eyes were wide with unease as she looked to Kai and then to Cohen. They sat a seat down from each other, with Graves's thin frame now settled between the two of them. Watching the expression on Cohen's face, I thought it was probably smart to have someone sitting between them.

Cohen looked murderous.

My friends still wore the clothes they'd been in when they'd attacked the palace over a month ago. The green fabric of the rebellion was torn and stained—as tattered as the cause itself.

Heidi was peppered with bruises and the guards remained close at her side, even as she sat next to Nadia. Her gaze never left Larkin as the princess took a seat beside her brother. Kinsley took up the place on Heidi's other side.

It was silent for a long time. Heidi didn't look away from Larkin. Her jaw was painfully tight, her green eyes bright with malice. What might Heidi see in the princess if tacet were not keeping her ability at bay? What would my nightmarish friend do if she could wield that horrific ability?

After a moment, Nadia's hand found Heidi's and for a second, the girl tore her gaze away from the princess. Nadia shook her head, just once, in a silent plea. Whatever this was, we didn't need it made worse by Heidi picking a fight.

Kai was still on his feet, his hands braced on the table, his shoulders slumped. He flinched away from Cohen's gaze—refused to meet mine. His focus had returned once more to the Culling announcement spread before him. Pain and surprise seemed to press in on him from all sides.

He hadn't known it was happening, I realized. Caine had done all of that and hadn't told him. I wondered when he'd found out. Last night, when I had? Or this morning, when he arrived in the dining room to find the announcement placed beneath his plate like some crude table setting.

Kai's voice was raw with exhaustion as he asked, "Why are they here?"

Caine nodded to Kai's abandoned chair. "Sit."

Kai shook his head. "Why—"

"I thought it was time the Warwick siblings had a chat," Caine said.

Cohen's voice was venomous as he spat, "He isn't a Warwick. He's a bastard. My father never claimed him. Never gave him his name."

Kai's voice was hoarse with restrained emotion as he said, "I don't want it. I've never wanted that name and I don't want it now."

Caine's hand found my wrist again. I tried to pull away but his grip only grew tighter as his fingers dug between tendon and bone. I hissed in pain and Kai's gaze shot to me. His uncle's expression was calm, unbothered as he repeated, "Sit."

Kai did as he was told and Caine's hold on my wrist subsided.

"There now," he said, "one big happy family once more."

Beside me, Nadia reached forward. She said nothing as her fingertips brushed against the scars littering my arm. I tried not to wince as her fingers brushed a particularly bad burn on my palm. There had once been a time when I'd wondered if it was possible for me to burn. I didn't have to wonder anymore.

I waited, as I knew she did, for that healing warmth to spread across my skin—but it never came.

She didn't have to ask where the injuries had come from.

Her voice was quiet, but fierce, as she looked to Kai. "How—How can you sit there and let him hurt her?"

Kai met her eyes, his face turning pallid as he answered, "If I knew how to stop it, I would."

She shook her head. "You're the king. If anyone can stop it, it's you."

But Kai couldn't do anything—not when we were surrounded by Caine's men. Not when my hand ended up over a fire any time he spoke out of line or tried to help me. Not when the Culling was going to be back in session and he knew Caine wanted nothing more than to put me in the arena again.

But Kai's desire to protect me had come too damn late.

He'd had chances to explain himself to me. All those weeks in Third Corps—all the weeks we'd shared a tent and spent hours together training—and not once had he even tried to tell me the truth. Maybe he'd wanted to protect me, but he'd wanted to keep me more. And he had known that I'd shy away from him if I'd known who he really was.

You wouldn't have even considered me if you'd known I was the heir. You would have seen me as just another set of handcuffs. I would have been just another darkened cell.

And he was right about that. He was right and I was so damn mad at him for not loving me enough to risk it. It should have been my choice. Instead, I was here.

Now none of us had a choice.

Nadia's eyes flitted from Kai to the paper spread before him. Her face grew pale as she read the heading—saw the two names printed there. She sat back in her chair, her shoulders going slack as she whispered, "No." She shook her head. "No. You—You can't do that."

Caine smiled as his gaze landed on the Culling announcement. "My dear, it's already been done."

Her breathing hitched and she looked to Graves, then to Kai. "No."

"What?" Heidi leaned forward, trying to get a look at the paper in front of the king. When one of her guards forced her back into her seat, she asked, "What is it? What's already been done?"

My throat burned as I answered, "The Culling is back in session. The trials start on Sanctus Aurelia."

"Sanctus Aurelia?" Heidi breathed. "And who—?"

Caine cut her off. "You will fight Miss Reese in two weeks."

Nadia shook her head. "I'm not fighting anyone. You can put us in the arena but you can't force us to—"

"Carina Conard." Caine reached across the table to a tray of cured ham. He put two slices on my plate before he added a fried egg and a slice of toast. Without looking at anyone he continued, "She's the twenty-five-year-old widow of Daniel Conard—he was a supply runner and sharpshooter. She's been with the Culled for approximately two years. She was born in Kaupei. Both of her parents are dead to a Cartollic outbreak, so she was raised by a maiden aunt in Dakolt. That's where she met her husband. She currently works as a healer in Third Corps." He glanced up at me as he grabbed my empty mug and slid it across the table towards himself. He poured me a cup of coffee and added cream, then sugar. The clink of the spoon against glass was the only other sound as he said, "She delivered a little girl thirty-four days ago. Named her Bonnie."

Heidi shook her head. "What does Carina have to do with...?"

The spoon stilled in the coffee mug. I watched the liquid continue to spin as Caine sighed. "It must be frightening," he said, "being in a foreign country, surrounded by so many enemies. I can't imagine what it would be like to have a newborn to worry about during a time like this." He slid the mug towards me. "It would be unfortunate if something were to happen to her child. And there are so many dangers. So many opportunities for something to go wrong. Poor Carina. She's lost so much at such a young age. After losing her husband, I wonder if she could withstand the death of her child."

We were silent, none of us brave enough to speak—none of us knowing what to say.

Caine tapped a finger against the edge of my plate. "Eat up, Miss Benson."

I didn't move to touch the food.

I hadn't thought about Carina in weeks. I remembered someone telling me that she'd gone into labor. A few of the healers had stayed back from the Sauenmyde mission so that they could help her. I knew that Third Corps had been overtaken by Vayelle soldiers and Caine's mercenaries. The last I'd been told, our people were prisoners.

Carina and her baby were prisoners.

"If you do as you're told, your friends in Third Corps will remain safe," Caine explained. "But, if you refuse to participate in the Culling, if you defy me, little Bonnie Conard will be the first of many casualties." Caine tapped my plate again. "Eat."

My hands shook as I reached for my fork.

I wanted to look at Kai. I wanted him to do something, but I knew he wouldn't. He never did. Instead, he just turned back to his own untouched plate. There was a slight shake to his hands as he began serving himself breakfast.

Caine sighed and began making his own dish, continuing to talk as he did. "Since the Culling is already half done, there is no need to publicly announce yourselves again. However, there may be interviews and you will be expected to give appropriate answers. I'll make sure you know exactly what to say and when to say it—everyone has a part to play here."

"And what is my part to play—a corpse?" Heidi asked.

He paused, a spoon of grits halfway to his plate as he answered, "I suppose that will be up to Miss Reese."

Nadia closed her eyes. "I will not figh—"

"We'll see," Caine shrugged. "It's a bit early for declarations like that. Wait until you're in the arena. You may not be willing to fight for your life, but it doesn't mean that Miss Larson isn't."

Cohen's voice was soft as he asked, "And what part will Larkin and I play?"

Caine shrugged. "Happy family, I suppose. You've got a new big brother. What other role would you play, Prince?"

Kai said, "You don't need to do anything. We—Things aren't—I'm not—" He shook his head, exasperated. "We aren't a family."

"No," Cohen said. "No, we're not."

Caine only shrugged. "Suit yourself. But in front of the press, you will be thrilled and honored to be here with your older brother—the king. You will tell everyone how much of a surprise it was to find him. You will call it a goddess-given blessing. You will tell everyone that you abdicated by choice—that is what the papers printed and that is what Erydia will continue to believe."

Larkin smiled and leaned against the table, her chin in her hand as she gazed at Caine. "And how will you control me, kingmaker—since I don't give two shits about what happens to anyone in that little rebel camp of yours?"

Caine blinked at her, slow and steady. Larkin's lips twitched, waiting like a cat assessing a mouse. After a long moment, his gaze slid to Kinsley. "You know," he said, addressing her, "Your father was very vocal about your bid for the Crown. He thinks you'd make a fair match for my nephew."

Kinsley's eyes darted to Kai and then to Larkin. The princess was still as stone, her slender brows lifted as she listened. The floral mark on Kinsley's face creased as she said. "My father is very ambitious—"

"But are you ambitious, Miss Raveena? Do you fancy yourself as queen?"

Kinsley swallowed and looked to Larkin before she whispered, "I'm not sure what you're getting at."

"Well, I suppose it will come down to a match between you and Miss Benson. Of course, Miss Reese and Miss Larson will fight, the winner of that match will inevitably perish. And then it will be you or Miss Benson. Tell me, how do you think your plants will fare against her fire?" Caine's head tilted to one side. "I think Larkin's behavior will have a lot of sway on how well you do in the arena. Her conduct might even be enough to make you queen. How does that sound?"

For a moment, I couldn't hear anything except for the rushing of blood in my ears.

Across from me, Kai was looking at his uncle, his lips parted in shock. This was Caine's plan. Heidi and Nadia were a good show—they would appease the priestesses and the most devout Erydian. But they would not be queen. If it came to it, he would put Kinsley on the throne. He would make Kai marry her.

It would be her or me.

And the choice would depend on who behaved best—Kai or Larkin. It would come down to who would require the most controlling, the most insurance as Caine called it. And Kai wouldn't fight him—not if his mother were already here. Not if Caine was threatening both of us. How could he choose? How could I ask him to?

Heidi shook her head. "This is a bunch of bullshit."

Caine ignored her. "In two days, we will have a welcome dinner with all of you and some of the Synod. Everyone will be on their best behavior. Is that clear?" When no one answered, Caine continued, "And then the next day, we will have a second Commencement Ball. There will be no advisors during the duration of the Culling, so this will merely be an opportunity for the press and any paying guests to get a look at their new king and the remaining goddess-touched girls. Once again, I expect smiles and laughter and absolute silence unless I say otherwise."

The unspoken threats were loud. Each one already laid bare to us.

We would get along with one another. We wouldn't pick fights. We would say what Caine wanted us to say.

Kai would wear his father's crown and Cohen would tell everyone how happy he was to see his older brother wearing it. Larkin would recede back into the shadows like she'd done for so many years. Her stint on the throne would be forgotten. Uri's memory and any semblance of public mourning would be washed away by the glittering expectation of a new era—another blood-soaked crowning.

We would dance and smile. We would wear the gowns and flash our marks. We would gush about how blessed we were to have the opportunity to fight for the throne. We would lie through clenched teeth and we would walk into the arena without protest—

Or else I would pay.

Or else Kai's mother would pay.

Or else Kinsley would pay.

Or else our friends in Third Corps would pay.

***

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