Reubinon Palace, Pellarmus.

Leighton looked as if he'd seen a ghost.

And that much I could understand, because if someone had asked me five minutes ago if Britta was dead—I'd have said yes. Or well, I assumed she was dead. That was probably everyone's assumption. That was certainly what Cohen had believed.

Technically speaking, Britta was supposed to be dead.

The last time she'd been seen, she'd been on her way to Vayelle to discuss a peace treaty. But she'd never made it there. She'd disappeared.

Gone.

I'd heard rumors upon my return to the palace, whispers of people saying that Britta's guards had been found dead. That the burned shell of her transport had been discovered and there had been charred bodies inside. They thought one of them belonged to the princess. That had further solidified the suspicion that she'd been ambushed and murdered by Vaylish soldiers.

But even before that news, Cohen had given up hope. He'd mourned her alongside Uri.

He'd thought his oldest sister, his protector, was dead.

Turns out, Britta Warwick was made of lies too.

Good goddess.

Britta stepped forward and then stopped again. When none of us moved towards her, she looked back, as if expecting someone to appear there. When they didn't, her gaze turned to the hall beyond ours—where Cohen had gone.

Nadia had already taken a step in that direction, her face a mix of confusion and worry. She met my eyes and a silent understanding passed between us.

If any of us should go to him, it should probably her. This was bad and Cohen would need a firend. If anyone could talk to him right now, I believed it would be Nadia. After a split second, I nodded and she handed me the picnic basket.

Without a word, she headed off.

Britta watched Nadia go, her eyes shining with a million conflicting emotions. Her lips parted, like she'd speak, but she held the words back. Even in distress, Britta was poised. She was calculative. The image of princess.

The eldest Warwick sibling looked just as she always had, her clothes clean, her hair a tamed halo of curls, her posture immaculate. She was the polished version of Uri. The young version of Viera.

Raven hair and ocean blue eyes.

She stood still as a statue for a second longer before she hurried past us, her eyes on the polished marble as she walked by. No one said anything as the sound of her heels faded and we were left in silence once more.

Once she was gone, Anna turned to look at me. When I only shook my head, just as confused as everyone else, she glanced at Leighton. He was still staring at the place where Britta had just been. His eyes were wide, his mouth partially open. It seemed like he had a million things he wished to say.

I wondered if he was mad too. He'd become close to Cohen while we were at Third Corps. He would have seen how Cohen dealt with the loss of his parents and sister. Losing Britta had be so hard on him. I hadn't been a very good friend to Cohen just after his parents' death. I'd been dealing with my own shit. I'd been fallig in love with someone else. But Leighton had been there. He'd become Cohen's friend and helped him cope with the loss of the majority of his family.

And now, to realize that Britta wasn't dead...

My heart hurt for Cohen.

"Who—I'm sorry, but who was that?" Anna asked, her voice small against the magnitude of what we'd all just witnessed. "And why is Cohen upset?"

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to make sense of everything. "That's Britta Warwick. Cohen's—Cohen's older sister."

Anna's brow furrowed in confusion. "I didn't know he had any family in Pellarmus."

Heidi let out a bitter laugh. "Yeah," she shook her head and sighed. "Neither did Cohen."

Leighton turned to look at us then, his brow furrowed with an emotion I couldn't quite decipher. Again, he opened and closed his mouth. He started to use his hands to sign—realized that we couldn't interpret it—and gave up.

I nodded in the direction Cohen, Nadia, and Britta had gone. "It's kind of a long story," I said. "She's supposed to be dead."

"Supposed to be?" Anna said, her voice growing high with concern. "Did one of you try to kill her?"

Heidi's brows rose. "Cohen might try now."

Anna's mouth fell open.

"No." I shook my head, "No, he won't."

Feeling a sudden wave of anxious energy, I started to walk towards the wing of the palace I knew held the guest bedrooms. Leighton and Anna started to follow me.

"Like I said, it's a long story," I explained. "But it wasn't anything like that. She just went missing a few months ago. We all assumed she'd been killed by Vaylish soldiers or rebels or something. I don't know. But I guess—I guess she's been here. And not dead."

Anna nodded slowly, digesting what I'd just said. "But, wouldn't Cohen be happy about that?"

Heidi scoffed. "No."

"I'm sure he is," I amended. "Except he thought she was dead and it's sort of shocking. Especially when you consider everything that's happened. He probably feels..." I trailed off, unwilling to even put a label on what Cohen might be feeling just then.

I couldn't imagine the surprise and the anger he'd feel, learning the truth. Maybe he would be happy too. Actually, I knew he would be, after everything settled and he got over the shock. He loved his sister. But...But just then I was sure he was mostly hurt.

None of it felt real. This entire day had been strange and beautiful—a respite from the nightmare my life had turned into. But now it seemed as if everything was falling apart. It was like the world were shimmering—turning to dust. As if at any minute I would wake up and find that this had all been a dream.

It had to be.

Britta was alive.

And nothing about that—or her being in Pellarmus—made sense.

Heidi hurried her step and moved to stand in front of me, blocking my path. When I tried to go around her, she shook her head and tilted her head in the direction Cohen, Nadia, and Britta had gone. "Well?"

I quirked an eyebrow at her, half challenge and half question. "Well, what?"

She let out an exasperated sigh. "Don't tell me you're gonna stand here while Nadia gets all the details."

"We can't eavesdrop on this. It isn't any of our business."

"Like hell it isn't." Heid pointed down the hall. "You can stay here and follow proper etiquette, but I want to know what's happening. Whatever is going on with them, you know it has to do with us too. If Nadia gets to hear it, so should we."

I glanced to Anna and Leighton who were both shifting uncomfortably on their feet, clearly unsure what had just happened or what it really meant. That made three of us. I offered Anna a small smile, "You don't have to stay here. Don't worry about any of this. I'm sure there's a good explanation. It'll all make sense."

"Definitely," Heidi said dryly. "I'm sure we'll all laugh about it at dinner later."

Leighton touched Anna's shoulder gently and she turned to him, her face still drawn with concern. He glanced to me and then back to her. After a second, he nodded in the direction of the guest rooms and offered her a small smile.

Heid handed Anna the blanket and turned to me, pulling the basket out of my grip. Without having to be asked, Leighton held out a hand and took it. Then, Heidi turned backing towards where Cohen had gone. When I didn't move to follow her, she took hold of my wrist and started to drag me. "Damn, Benson. Weren't you a spy once? Being disrespectfully nosey should be second nature to you."

I rolled my eyes. "Bitch."

"Coward," she returned. With that, I was being hauled down the hallway by my arm. "We'll see you guys in a few hours," she called over her shoulder.

I shot Anna an apologetic look before I turned away from her and yanked out of Heidi's vise-like grip.

After that, we were mostly in step with each other as we followed the length of the whitewashed hallways, turning corners and making guesses at where we should go next. The footsteps of our friends had long since faded and now we were just wandering, unsure exactly what we were looking for.

We'd almost decided we were lost and should turn back when we heard shouting.

Britta's voice was strained as she said, "Please—Please, just hear me out."

"Thank the goddess," Heidi muttered, making a beeline in that direction. "I was getting bored."

As we rounded the final corner and found a partially open door, we heard Cohen say, "Why? Why lie?" His voice was quiet, a brewing storm. "Uri and I—We thought you were dead. We—"

Cohen stopped speaking abruptly as he caught sight of us standing in the hall. The room he stood in was a small private library with shelves of books and a few small ornate tables that held globes, maps, glittering knickknacks, and other priceless looking items. The fireplace on the far wall was lit and a dying fire warmed the backs of Cohen and Nadia. It made the wall of decorative swords above the mantle shimmer.

Britta stood facing away from us, her body between Cohen and the door, as if she'd cornered him here. When he paused, she turned to see what had stopped him. Her face fell. "You—Please—Please, for the love of the goddess, go somewhere else." Despite the sharpness of her actual words, her tone was hopeless—a true plea.

"Why shouldn't they stay?" Cohen demanded. "You didn't just lie to me. You lied to our entire country."

Britta spun back to look at him. "I didn't lie to anyone. I just let you assume the worst. I just let you come to your own conclusion."

"And how does that make it any better? It was still ultimately a lie. You weren't dead. You weren't even in Vayelle. Damn, Britta. Did you ever even plan to go there? Or was that all some massive plot to get you out of Erydia?"

Heidi took hold of my wrist and pulled me into the room behind her. She tugged me along until we were standing against a large bookcase to the right of the door. Nadia glanced at us; her expression drawn with worry. She stood a few feet from Cohen, her arms wrapped around herself. I wondered if he'd been angry with her when she'd followed him.

Had this shattered their otherwise beautiful morning?

Looking at the expression on my friend's face, I hope that Cohen had found comfort in her presence—even in the midst of his own anger. I hoped he hadn't snapped at her. One glance at Heidi told me she was thinking something similar. In fact, Heidi looked like she was ready to beat someone's ass if they'd hurt Nadia.

Even if that person was Cohen.

Maybe especially if it was him.

Britta wrung her hands together. "Cohen—"

"Do you even love him?" Cohen asked, indignant.

Britta lifted her chin and met her brother's eyes. "I did what I had to do for Erydia."

Cohen leaned against one of the small tables, the papers there rustling as he flexed his fingers. His eyes were on the table as he shook his head. "What does any of this have to do with Erydia?" He demanded, still not looking at his sister. "You ran off with a boy, you abandoned your duty, your life, and left me alone to deal with mother. And Larkin. You left Uri alone."

"Don't bring Uri into this."

His head shot up. "She's never not been a part of it, Britta. She's your sister. She is—she was—our responsibility to protect. You abandoned her. You abandoned me."

Britta shook her head, pushing his words away as she fought to present her argument. "Darragh needed a queen and—"

"So, it was about power then?" He pushed back from the table and jabbed a finger in her direction. "Let's get this straight: You've spent your entire life playing meek and proper. And all the while you were scheming to leave and make yourself a queen. Goddess, Britta. I'd expect it of Larkin, but I never thought you were a power-hungry bitch too."

She stepped back, her expression so stunned, he couldn't have wounded her more if he'd slapped her. Tears shined in Britta's eyes as she said, "I did it for you. For all of us."

"How the hell does marrying Darragh help me?"

"Because Darragh has an army."

"So does Erydia."

She stepped towards him, her own voice rising with anger as she said, "Yes! Yes, we do. But who has control of it? Hm? Who directs their guns? Not you. Not me."

"Don't use the rebellion and Caine as an excuse, they weren't even a real issue when you left. You didn't do this for me. You did it for you. You saw an opportunity to escape and you took it."

"We have lost our kingdom, Cohen."

"Maybe, but it wasn't lost when you left!"

"Not yet, but it was already disappearing and you know it. I married Darragh because he needed to have a wife before he could take the throne. He knew when he married me that we were going after Erydia. That was and has always been the goal."

Realization and hurt flashed across Cohen's face. "You planned to remove me from the throne then?"

"No—I—Cohen..." She trailed off, realizing that that was exactly what she'd planned to do. She just probably hadn't meant to phrase it that way to her brother. Cohen shook his head and started for the door, but she intercepted him, catching him by the wrist as she said, "She was never going to make you king. Cohen—Cohen, please. Please just listen to me. You know she was never going to step down."

He stopped and, for a moment, the two siblings stood facing each other—fury and anger and a million other emotions sharp on their faces. Cohen cleared his throat and whispered, "But what did you plan to do, huh? After you'd used Darragh's army to take Erydia back, what did you plan to do? Who would sit on the throne then?"

There was silence. An answer unspoken.

Cohen pulled out of her grasp. "That's what I thought."

Britta ran her hands through her hair, knocking curls from her bun as she watched Cohen head for the door. "Wait!"

He stopped walking, his hand on the edge of the door.

Britta's voice was quiet as she said, "All my life I have tried to protect you. I have done everything I could think to do to keep you alive. You cannot blame me for seeing an opportunity to end her—to make you and Uri safer—and taking it. I would do anything for you."

He turned to face her, his hands in fists at his side. I knew from his posture, that if she had been anyone else, he'd have thrown a punch already. But he didn't, he just met her eyes. "Anything except for be where you were supposed to be. Anything except stay with your family."

"Cohen—"

"I believed you were dead. Caine—I was in a prison cell when they showed me pictures of the wreckage. They told me they'd found your transport in the middle of some field in Varos. They said the bodies were burned beyond recognition. They told me it was you! And I—dammit, Britta—I cried. I cried in front of him. I wept for you and all the while you were here. Scheming to make yourself queen."

She swallowed; one hand still tangled in her hair as she pressed the other to her chest. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Uri died and you didn't even attend the services. I was surrounded by enemies and I needed you. I needed you, Britta. Goddess, I've never missed you more than I missed you that day."

"I'm sorry. Truly. I didn't know she was dead, Cohen. I had no idea. I didn't know until last night when Darragh arrived home. I've—I'm sorry. Intel has been sparse and there was no way to know what was true and what was fake. But if I'd known—If I'd realized something had happened to her, I would have—"

"Would've done what?" Cohen threw his arms out, gesturing to the palace around us. "You would have done what, Queen of Pellarmus. What the hell would you have done? Nothing. Nothing at all. Because you were too busy having a wedding and playing house with Darragh Blackburne."

"That is enough." The power in Britta's voice was enough to silence Cohen, even as angry as he was. Britta leveled her gaze on her brother. "I have hidden here for weeks and done everything I could to prepare to take back what belongs to my family. Darragh has been king for a month and no one aside from the governors is even aware of it. I have begged and pleaded and plotted and done everything I could do to prepare for an attack. Darragh left three weeks ago expecting to find Larkin still on the throne but he found some Vaylish tyrant instead. And some bastard masquerading as king. You may not like it, Cohen, but you are here and safe because Darragh knew that's what I'd want him to do. I asked my new husband to leave his homeland and go to mine—all so he could meet with our spies and help prepare. He got you out. None of which would have been necessary if you hadn't allowed some whoring rebel spy to trick you into—"

"You would have never won against mother," Cohen spat. "She'd have slaughtered you. And if she hadn't, Larkin would have."

Britta shook her head. "You killed her. You managed it. What makes you think you're somehow superior to me? What makes you think I couldn't have taken her down too. I'd have had an entire army, Cohen. You had a stupid girl and some throwing knives."

I flinched, but didn't say anything. Cohen was flushed, his entire body trembling with restrained rage. Honestly, I was surprised he hadn't flipped a table or something. If I were in his place, I think I'd have been burning things already.

But he didn't relinquish that anger, instead, it simmered into his voice as he said, "I was able to do it because she didn't see it coming. You," he said, pointing a finger at her. "She would've expected it from you. You were constantly going against her. Sure, you did it privately and underhandedly, but she wasn't stupid. Father doted on you. He was constantly prompting you to speak out against her and fight back. And mother knew it. She knew you were in his pocket and on his side. She'd have seen you coming from a mile away and she'd have ended you."

Britta's hands dropped to her sides. "Then perhaps I should be grateful that mother is no longer in the picture."

"So, what do you plan to do then?" Britta jumped at the sound of Nadia's voice—as if she'd forgotten we were all here.

She blinked at the goddess-touched girl and then looked to Cohen. She cleared her throat and said, "We—Our spies tell us that the new king is a puppet. They say he's being controlled by someone else—"

"Caine," I supplied. "His name is Caine."

"Caine," Britta repeated. That blue gaze landed on me, icey as Viera's. I forced myself not to shrink under her stare. Britta's voice was low, not more than a whisper as she said, "While you were playing rebel and helping our enemies, Monroe Benson—I was amassing my own forces." She looked to Cohen. "I have bases all throughout Gaza and the surrounding cities. I have spies in the palace—although, I'll admit, there are far less there now than there were a month ago. My own rebel army is prepared to strike. And with Darragh's forces, we will be unstoppable."

"And once you've got the throne?" Cohen asked, his voice hollow.

Britta lifted her chin and folded her hands in front of her, looking every bit like her mother as she said, "Once I've got the throne, I intend to keep it."

***

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