Cassia's startled gasp was hidden by the ringing blow Durus landed on Marcus' face, the sound of the slap echoing through the room. She brought her hands up to her mouth, her heart thudding wildly against her ribs. Her skin suddenly felt too hot—like it was drawn tight across her bones.

"Leave us," Durus demanded as Marcus spit blood onto the table, staining an edge of the Belorian Ocean scarlet.

The prince didn't move as the other lords scrambled from their chairs and out the double doors. Cassia couldn't force her breathing to slow down.

How did he know that? How did the slimy bastard know half of the things he did? Her shock turned quickly to fury as she imagined Marcus going through her things.

But—Cassia suddenly paled—she hadn't written down her plan to go to Brunia. She hadn't breathed a word to anyone about that other than Julianus. She leaned forward, hand still covering her mouth as she watched Durus stand. He towered over Marcus, who only wiped at his mouth again.

"How dare you mention that wretched girl in my council chambers," Durus hissed, his voice carrying in the still room. 

Marcus didn't answer. 

Perhaps he's finally gone a step too far, Cassia thought venomously. She jumped when Durus grabbed the front of Marcus' shirt, jerking him to his feet. His chair clattered to the ground as Durus struck him again, sending him stumbling away from the table. 

"You know I have forbidden any mention of her here."

Blood flowed from Marcus' nose now as he looked up. "And by doing so you leave her time to plan and succeed," he snarled.

Shocked silence descended, Durus slowly lowering his raised fist.

Cassia had a sudden vision of a knife slipping quietly between her brother's ribs. Fear, shocking and raw, bolted through her and she stood, knowing she would never make it down to the council room in time. She managed a step backwards, half-blinded by the images in her head.

How his hand would go down to cover the wound, blood spilling over his fingers. How his eyes would widen, but not look surprised.

"You ignore her and she has free rein to learn and plan." Marcus' harsh voice pulled her attention back down to the room below her feet. 

Cassia dropped silently to her knees. Still half convinced she was about to watch her father murder her brother, she bit into her lip to prevent herself from crying out and being discovered.

Marcus continued, "That wretched girl, as you call her, is intelligent in ways you can't imagine. Devious in ways that would shock whatever sensibilities remain in that stone heart of yours."

The king scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. Marcus laughed, running a hand through his hair before wiping at his bloody nose. The dark material of his shirt hid the blood.

"If Cassia wishes to try her luck in Brunia," the king said, "there is nothing any of us can do to stop her. Regardless of what is best for the empire. Best for her."

Both she and Marcus scoffed at that.

"I'm afraid, my son, that you have played your hand and lost." Durus tilted his head. "Unusual for you. What is it that you hoped to accomplish?"

"Like you, Father, my reasons are often my own." Marcus went to the window, hands behind his back. "Brunia is an enemy. I would hate for my sister to go seeking allies."

Durus let out a laugh. "Allies? Amongst the clans? They can barely form alliances between themselves."

Leaning forward, she watched as Marcus turned, his gaze flicking up to her once more as Durus traced a finger around the shape of the island. Blood still coated his chin.

"What is it that you want, Marcus?" the king asked, sounding weary.

Cassia held her breath as she waited for the answer.

Marcus' eyes flickered up to her again. "I know what it is you want, Father."

"You presume much."

"I know much. That is the difference between Malitech and myself." Marcus turned toward the door. Over his shoulder, he said, "You want Cassia gone. Whether she steps down or dies, you don't care."

For half a moment, Marcus paused, like he was expecting Durus to deny such a thing. But the king didn't so much as shift position, and Cassia found herself unsurprised. 

Should a daughter feel nothing when her father wanted her dead? How could someone get used to being unwanted? Her heart ached at that thought.

"You want her gone," Marcus said, "and I want a crown."

"You can't kill her," Durus said stiffly.

"No," Marcus agreed. "But you don't need to kill her."

"Which leaves only the options of her marrying, or stepping down."

Cassia got slowly to her feet. She had heard more than enough. Marcus' desire for the crown was no secret, and she was sick of his scheming. They had wandered into familiar territory—boring territory, really.

Talk all they want, they couldn't kill her. They couldn't force her to abdicate.

Now that Durus knew about her desire to go to the island, she suspected all northbound ships would be warned once she began her travel years. At most, she would simply have to get creative about how she got to the island. Marcus hadn't really succeeded in changing anything.

While strange for him, it was more than enough for her.

Placing each step with care, she walked away from the grate until their voices turned to incoherent murmurings. As she walked through the dark, those images of Marcus being killed returned. Cassia shook her head.

Wishful thinking. A fate the fox wished upon the baying hound always snapping at her heels.

Cassia left the dusty room, wandering toward the brighter halls.

So the king would know of her plans. That didn't really change anything, aside from which port she would leave by perhaps. He couldn't ban her from going. Cassia choked on a small laugh as she realized being cut off from her nobility—from the money and power it granted her—would be the thing that freed her from her father's tyranny. 

She continued to walk for nearly an hour, idly moving about the castle, ignoring the people she passed. There was no where for her to go, really.

"Princess?"

Cassia started as a soft voice intruded on her thoughts. Looking over her shoulder, she found a slave watching her warily. Her nut-brown skin and sable hair marked her as someone from Marbel.

Before Cassia could respond, the girl held out a scrap of paper.

Slowly, dread rising in her heart, she took the folded note. After the Marbelese girl bowed and left, Cassia glanced down at the piece of paper. Crumpling it in her hand, she kept walking. It didn't take long before she realized exactly where she was heading.

Currently empty rooms.

Cassia stopped dead in the middle of the hall, staring down at the rich pattern of the carpet beneath her feet. A small, bitter laugh escaped her as she realized that she had wanted to talk to Julianus about what had just happened.

She wanted his council, his opinion.

His warmth. 

She wished for something that wasn't hers to claim. Cassia firmly shoved those feelings away, berating herself for the moment of weakness. He couldn't help her right now, so there was no point in wishing for something she couldn't have. 

Resolutely, she flattened the note. 

Fallow fields are good places to grow secrets.

Cassia rolled her eyes at his theatrics. Did he really expect her to go chasing after him?

She had no intention of playing any further into Marcus' maneuvering for the day. There was only so much she could swallow, and after this morning Cassia was sickeningly full of intrigue and vicious games. 

No sooner had she had that thought when another slave approached her. A man this time, he silently bowed and offered her a slip of paper. Anger swirled through her blood, acidic and vile. 

"Thank you," she said, her voice shorter than she would have liked as she took the note.

When she was alone once again, she read the note. 

Friends are terribly hard to come by in this place.

The anger in her blood cooled and crystallized into shards of ice. There was only one person in the palace who could perhaps be considered her friend. One who would not be protected by title or military standing.

Cassia soundly cursed her brother under her breath and spun on her heel, heading for her rooms. She had just reached her door when yet another slave approached.

The look on her face must have been terrible, because the young man stuttered, "I-I beg your pardon, Y-Your Grace. A note for you."

Inhaling through her nose, Cassia managed to dredge up an apologetic expression. "Forgive my ill temper," she said kindly. "Thank you."

The shock on his face might have been amusing if it wasn't so sad that being treated kindly was surprising to him. He handed her the note, retreating quickly once she took it.

Her stormy expression returned, just to smooth away into confusion at the words that awaited her.

How we worship and abhor the hunter.

Had he been drinking, she wondered, when he was penning these.

Or was this simply an exercise in frustration. Puzzling over the last note, Cassia was relieved to find her rooms empty. She fought her way out of the blue velvet dress in favor of donning a riding skirt.

The soft leather rested heavily against her legs, but at least it would cut the wind as she rode. She slid into two cotton blouses, then extracted a black cloak lined with mink fur, luxuriating in the silky-soft pelt.

Sufficiently clothed, Cassia made her way down to the stables and asked the nearest stableboy to ready her horse.

"Yes, Princess," he said, flushing when she smiled. Then he asked, "Will you be joining Prince Marcus to watch his hunt?"

Cassia gaped at him for a second, leaving him to shift uncomfortably on his feet before she gathered herself. The meaning of the last note snapped into place and she shook her head.

"No. I..." She shook her head again. "I'll be right back."

"Yes, my lady," the stablehand said, relief tainting his tone. "Your horse will be ready and waiting for your return."

Cassia managed to thank him, already halfway out the door. She strode toward the small mews nearby that housed the birds used for falconry. Slipping through the door, she was assaulted by the warmth and smell that awaited her.

"Princess," one of the keepers greeted her, raising a questioning eyebrow. "How might I be of service?"

"I'm to meet my brother," she explained, striving to keep her voice sweet. "I require a bird."

"My lady?" he asked in disbelief.

Cassia kept her voice calm and commanding. "A bird, Keeper. I require a bird."

"Of... course." He hid his disapproval well, but Cassia knew that hunting wasn't considered a particularly lady-like endeavor. "Might I suggest—"

"No," she cut him off, then winced as his eyes widened. "No. I would prefer to choose my hunter."

"Some of the birds can be quite heavy, my lady," he tried.

Cassia nearly smirked. After so many weeks of calisthenics and practicing with heavy steel swords, she very much doubted a bird would provide her with much trouble. "Thank you," was all she said.

Sensing his dismissal, the falcon-keeper retreated down one of the aisles, leaving her to her own devices. With a long sigh, Cassia strolled down the row, peering into each enclosure.

Many of the birds were resting peacefully, others groomed their beautiful feathers. None managed to catch her attention until the very end of the row. A shrill cry pierced her ears and she turned to look at the culprit.

By her size, Cassia knew she was female. Her belly and chest were covered in white feathers speckled with grey, her wings, back and head covered in slate-grey plumage.

Her large, liquid-black eyes and gracefully curved beak glinted in the low light. Her hooked talons clicked lightly against the wood of her perch as she shuffled back and forth, cocking her head and twisting it nearly upside down as she peered at Cassia.

"Hello," she whispered, lightly touching the screening between her and the hunter. The falcon clicked its beak, tilting its head again.

Cassia called for the keeper, who silently went about retrieving everything needed. After the falcon was settled comfortably on the thick leather glove Cassia had donned, she was hooded and ready to go.

The keeper gave Cassia a small bag of raw meat, explaining that she would need it to coax the falcon back to her hand. Cassia waited patiently as the man talked, idly stroking a finger down the falcon's back.

She knew the theories of falconry, and had watched her brothers enviously for years.

Finally, she left the mews and made her way back to the stables where her mare was waiting just as the boy had said. She stopped and frowned, eyes flickering between the horse and the falcon.

Then she snorted softly and took the falcon's hood off, encouraging her to step from her hand to the top railing of the fence creating a small yard in front of the stables. She allowed the stableboy to help her into the saddle, then dug a scrap of meat from the bag she had tied to her belt.

As soon as she held her arm aloft, displaying the prize, the falcon shot from the fence. Her wings swept out, feathers spread gracefully as she landed with precision on Cassia's arm. She gobbled up the scrap of meat, then looked around with a disdainful eye.

Cassia gestured for the boy to hood her again, then nudged her heels into Shella's sides. The horse bobbed her head in protest of the chilly weather, but began walking.

As they left the castle grounds and entered the hunting park, Cassia watched the falcon sitting sedately on her arm. The sharp talons pressed into the thick leather of the glove as the falcon gripped her arm, occasionally flaring her wings and tail to keep her balance as Cassia swayed with the movements of the horse.

The snow had quit at some point and hadn't been able to make it to the ground beneath the trees, some of which were still clinging tenaciously to their leaves. 

Cassia kept her eyes trained straight on the trail before her, not wanting to drag up memories of meeting Julianus here. Of his taunting grin, the way his muscles flexed with every stride he took. The secrets he had told beneath the boughs of these trees.

It was with relief and dread that she finally broke free of the forest, gaze sweeping across the frosted fields. Dead grass lay in a field that stretched to the horizon, a tangled mix of gold and grey.

To the north, a lonely figure sat astride a horse. Cassia nudged Shella into motion again, wondering if this was another mistake she would make with Marcus.

But there had always been something that drew her to this brother. A yearning to draw the poison from his wound of a heart perhaps. Or some sort of self-destructive wish. Cassia shook her head, amused.

Mistake or no, she did want to confront him about what she had seen.

Cassia drew near Marcus just as he lifted his arm, a dark falcon bursting into flight, gaining altitude quickly before swinging out in a wide circle. The copper stallion he rode began walking, Marcus guiding him in a sweeping pattern across the field.

She started slightly when, with a rush of wings and startled calls, a covey of quails shot into the air. Marcus' falcon dove toward the flock of golden-brown birds, a spear of black death before it crashed onto one of the quails.

The doomed animal didn't even let out a squawk as the falcon carried it to the ground, spreading its dark wings as it huddled over its prize.

Marcus dismounted and approached the bird, holding an offering of raw meat out to the hunter. The falcon continued to mantle over his catch for a moment before he hopped away and onto Marcus' arm, snatching up the treat.

Every movement smooth and practiced, Marcus hooded the falcon then picked up the dead quail, golden feathers floating to the ground. Two other quails already hung from the back of his saddle.

"Would you like to try?" he asked softly, stroking a tan finger down the falcon's back. His dark-honey eyes met her matching ones, and she was startled by what she saw.

Bruises bloomed around his mouth and at the side of his nose, under his eye where their father had struck him. But that wasn't what shocked her.

She couldn't remember ever having seen him look so weary before. His face—what wasn't purple and black with bruising—was pale and drawn, and dark shadows hung under his eyes.

But beyond the physical was what she could see within those eyes.

Marcus was alone.

The thought stumbled through her mind, catching her off-guard. Marcus had never struck her as the type who needed or even wanted the company of others. 

Shaking off the ludicrous thought, she gently removed the hood from her own falcon. The bird shook its head, feathers ruffling before she looked around, surveying the scene with a haughtiness Cassia could only hope to emulate.

"Lift your arm higher," Marcus said.

Instinctively, Cassia scowled at him, but when he hardly even blinked she turned back to the falcon on her arm. With a little more effort than she would have thought was required, she lifted the bird higher into the air.

The falcon looked around the field, then spread her pointed wings and took off into the pearly sky. Marcus nudged his horse forward and Cassia did the same as they worked to flush any remaining quail from their hiding places on the earth. 

Cassia kept a close eye on the pale falcon as she swept through the sky, circling the field in broad, searching loops.

A startled gasp left her as birds that had been practically invisible on the ground shot into the sky. She looked up just in time to watch the white and grey falcon fall into a dive that sent her hurtling toward the hapless quails at a speed that made Cassia's heart pound.

Then her wings opened as she checked her speed, talons extended before she caught the quail.

Graceful death, Cassia thought as she dismounted. No wonder the ancient Metians had revered them so.

The falcon let out a shrill cry, lauding her victory. The bird hunched up over her kill until Cassia offered up a piece of meat. The falcon bobbed its head back and forth in consideration before flapping over to Cassia's arm.

Cassia retrieved the quail, then turned to find Marcus had also dismounted. He stood only a handful of feet away from her. A little unnerved by the attention, she coaxed her falcon into standing on the cantle of the saddle before hooding her again and taking off the thick leather glove. 

The keeper had been right when he'd said some of the birds were heavy. Supporting the bird's weight for the ride through the forest had strained her muscles more than she would ever admit.

"Why?" she finally asked, her question carried by the cold breeze whipping between them.

Marcus had unhooded his falcon, stroking a finger over its head, ignoring the likelihood of being bitten. He tilted his head in consideration, looking entirely too much like the predator he was holding. "If the northbound ships refuse you passage, where will you go?"

"How did you know I was going to Brunia?" she shot back. Marcus owed her more answers than she owed him.

The only answer she received was a shrug.

With a disgusted growl, she whirled around, intent on leaving. She had a hand on the saddle when Marcus said, "It wouldn't be enough to go be a simple worker. Or to smuggle yourself into the army to serve as a common soldier. You'd be too recognizable as a gladiatrix."

Slowly, she turned back to him. Marcus cast a knowing look over her, then gave her a half-smile. "Proving yourself a man wouldn't be enough. You need to be a legend."

Cassia shook her head slowly, more in frustration than denial.

"The Warrior Queen," Marcus said, tone dripping with false reverence. "The woman who would claim the world."

"It's mine to claim," she said tightly.

"Perhaps." Marcus inclined his head, stroking his fingers down the falcon's back. "Either way you still need to get to Brunia first. I am not so disillusioned as to think I have managed to stop you."

"Did you want to stop me?" Cassia looked at her falcon, lightly petting the white feathers of its belly.

"No. I just wanted you to go to Soria first."

A laugh burst from her that made both falcons shriek in response. Cassia looked toward the sky, praying for anything resembling patience.

"And why would I do that?" she finally asked, looking back down at her brother, who was frowning softly at his falcon. "If you're so worried about me seeking allies among our enemies, Soria should be the last place you want me to go."

"Oh don't be dull, Cassia," he snapped. "Put that clever mind to work."

She studied her brother carefully—everything from his wind-tousled hair to his casual posture. "What do you want in Soria?"

Marcus smirked. "You already know."

"You want the crown," she hissed. "It is not yours to have."

"No." He rolled his eyes, letting out a heavy sigh. "I said I want a  crown. Not the crown."

He once more struck her speechless until understanding finally snapped into place.

"The crown princess," she said flatly.

Marcus bowed his head. A sharp grin stretched the bruise on his mouth. "Did you really think I would only give myself one chance?" He laughed, the sound dripping with scorn. "I want your crown, sister. Have no doubt about that. But don't be so naive as to think that you are the only way to the throne."

She didn't know if she should be relieved by this revelation or not.

"So," she started slowly, "you want me to go to Soria and... what? Draw up an engagement agreement with King Malchus?"

"His price for the princess' hand—and subsequently her throne—is a peace agreement between our empires. He wants Metus to stay out of the western lands, and he shall stay out of the east."

"Do you believe him?" Cassia raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"I rarely believe anyone," Marcus said airily. "But if you return in three years with Brunia in one hand and a peace treaty in the other the people will love you in spite of your... outrageous denial of your place."

Cassia scoffed. Her place was on a throne and anyone who disagreed could go straight to Torvan.

Like Marcus could hear her very thoughts, he grinned, the expression as black as the falcon on his arm. "Go to Soria and bring me back a bride. Bring peace between the two largest empires in the world."

"So you can declare war on Metus when the old king dies?"

Marcus just shrugged. "It's an interesting idea."

"Why would I do any of this?" she demanded.

Her brother turned back to his horse as the falcon on his arm took flight. He pulled himself into the saddle, letting a piercing whistle ring through the cold air as he held up a piece of raw meat. His falcon returned to him and he turned his horse back toward the trees.

"Because you simply can't help yourself," he called over his shoulder. "Glory is what you seek. I am here to remind you that rarely does it come without a price."

He disappeared into the trees, and Cassia slowly knelt, drawing her cloak around her. 

It did nothing to keep the chill at bay.

Because this chapter would have been impossible without Sarah's amazing input.