Frederick isolated himself for the remainder of the night, unable to find rest all morning. Errand returned him to that secret room where everything was dust and sadness and loss, allowing him to throw objects at the wall for hours and hours.

He cast his eyes over the carnage he caused, finding what used to be furniture and fabric in pieces on the floor, his hands covered in cuts. Errand thrummed beneath his boots, comforting him in their way, as though they understood the need to rage and destroy and didn't fault him for it. And there were no broken toys among the rubble, as if Errand had prepared for Frederick's anger and hid them away.

The toys meant something to Errand. This room meant something to Errand. And Frederick had torn it apart.

"Dear gods, the holes in the walls-was that me?" Frederick asked hoarsely. "Errand, I'm sorry."

Errand rumbled in response.

He'd reduced the room to nothing and still, it brought him no closer to freeing his sister. By doing this he'd already wasted so much time. He had to leave here at once. His father had to know.

"Errand, take me to my room. Please."

The door opened, and he entered his room. He picked up a valise and stared at it, unsure of what he needed now. What would be useful now?

"Frederick."

He clenched his jaw, attempting to keep composed before answering. "What?"

"Where have you been?" Arabella asked softly.

"Errand."

"Errand," she repeated. "I don't like you and Errand keeping secrets from me."

"No? You kept my sister from me," he said, his temper escaping through the cracks of his restraint. "That was a big secret."

"I didn't know if it was true. I didn't want to make you worry until I had cause."

"So you were quite content with fucking me, knowing something that might fuck my world could come to light?"

"I thought that Gheorge was given the wrong information. Especially after hearing about what you did to ensure there was no body to resurrect."

He almost cringed. He couldn't afford to remember his sister on those stones lest he flew into another rage. "And on the possibility that the information was correct? You thought a party would be appropriate?"

A pause. "I don't know what to say. I'd already said I wanted to celebrate your birthday before I found out about Beatrice. I still wanted to ask you to be my king, and I wanted to make it special."

He couldn't bring himself to look at her. "Real fucking special."

"Frederick, I'm sorry. I should have given more thought to what would happen and how you would feel-how I would feel-if the information was true. I was distracted in a very shallow way. I can't apologize enough."

"Apologizing doesn't make it better. It doesn't fix what you did."

"No, but my actions might." He turned to face her, finding her twisting her fingers against each other. "I'll do anything you want."

"There is nothing you can do," he said.

"We can plan an attack. We can take their castle by force. I'm free now, and I can -"

"These are all things you should have suggested when you found out there was a possibility that the absolute monster was keeping my sister prisoner in her own, rotting corpse."

"It's too late for that," she whispered. "And the fault is mine, but I'm trying to help you now. Any resource. Anything you want. Say it. It's there."

He halted. "You're right. It is too late for that. But I don't want anything else to do with you. I don't need your help."

The air felt like frost as everything chilled, the silence so stark he could hear his own heart in his ears. "What are you saying?"

"I took the rest of last night to think about what I would do next, and I've decided I'm leaving for Thescan immediately to tell my father that his daughter is still in that state. And once I'm gone, I'm not coming back. You and I owe each other nothing. Don't come for me."

Her eyes brimmed with silver, and in a blink, it was gone. "As you wish, of course. Just call for Viscon once you're done, and I'll make sure he has my signature on the divorce papers you sent last time." And she vanished into nothingness.

He stared at the space where she disappeared, somewhat dismayed that she had left him alone though he'd asked her to. There were no arguments. No pleas to stay. Just a command met with obedience and empty silence. And he faltered in his resolve, questioning if in his hurt he may have acted too ...

Harshly.

He picked up the empty shot glass and hurled it across the room, but the thing didn't break, offering no satisfaction whatsoever. He tore at his hair and roared at the ceiling. The confusion, the anger, the absolute disgust.

She'd kept him as her lover while his sister existed in the world-suffering in her own body. Arabella had wrung pleasure after pleasure as though nothing had been wrong.

And still, he wanted to go after Arabella and take back what he said.

Fuck her fuck her fuck her-

"Your Highness." Vignolo leaned against the open threshold. "Arabella told me you were leaving the empire. For good this time. She sent me to take you back to Thescan at once. Do you have everything you need?"

Frederick nearly snarled. He loathed this vampyre. Didn't want to have anything to do with him, not even to have his touch on his shoulder for a second as they vanished. To know that she would likely to go him by the end of the day ... That was just something that didn't matter right now. "I haven't even thought of what to take with me yet ..."

Vignolo crossed the room to him, reaching for his arm, but Frederick stepped away. "You should have everything you need in Thescan. No need to worry about anything here."

"You said you saw my sister?"

Vignolo's hand turned into a fist before he lowered it. "Yes. With my own eyes."

"How did she seem to you?"

"Normal but something about her smelled rotten."

Frederick's gut turned. "Where was she being kept?"

He blinked. "At the king's side."

"You got close enough to see that?"

"A young woman was always at his side, the two of them holding hands. She bears little resemblance to you, but she does look like your father. Due to the description Arabella gave me of her possibly being undead, I was able to smell that on her. Not quite rottenness, I should say, but a too-long scent. Like ripe fruit that is too far gone."

And he'd gotten close enough to scent that ...

His sense screamed there was something he was hiding. "Is Arabella still in the castle?"

Vignolo sighed. "No. I sense her presence far gone."

"I need to speak with her now."

"She doesn't want to see you again. She was very clear about that. I wouldn't bother trying."

Frederick swallowed, stepping back, noting that Vignolo advanced as he retreated. "I don't have to go now. I can wait."

"You'll be waiting a while."

"I'll wait anyway."

A muscle tightened in his jaw. "It's time to go."

Frederick straightened. "Where's Viscon?"

"He's a little preoccupied right now. It will have to be me. I know where Thescan is just as well as he does."

Another step. "Gheorge?"

Vignolo gripped the bridge of his nose. "He hasn't risen yet."

Frederick knew he was even stupid for saying it but, "He's asleep? I'll go wake him up."

Vignolo's eyes narrowed. "It will be a little hard to wake him. He did have a lot to drink last night."

"He's a vampyre," Frederick said. "He'll manage."

Vignolo nodded. "Quite right. The poison will make it a little harder than usual, though ..."

Frederick's boot nudged the wall. Vignolo blocked the door. There was nowhere to go. "Errand-"

"Can't help you," he said, baring his fangs. "Now, you've overstayed your welcome."

Vignolo lunged. Frederick darted. But Vignolo would be quicker. Stronger. Faster than Frederick could ever be. In a matter of seconds, he'd be well and truly cornered.

The door.

The door.

The door.

The door was blocked by the vampyre.

The window, then.

There was no time to think about it.

Frederick dived, bracing himself for the shattering of glass. Cold rushed over his body, and he landed on his feet, bracing his hand on the carpet. He turned back, finding that he'd come through a door.

Errand had done it. Taken him to a place through the window.

"Gods, you're incredible, Errand."

But his excitement was short-lived as Vignolo reappeared, and Frederick broke into a sprint.

He turned the handle, ending up in a hall. Found another door and hurried through that. Then another.

Another.

A different part of the castle with the crossing of each threshold.

But Vignolo gained on him with every turn. And Errand wasn't defending. Either Errand didn't attack any of Arabella's court-even if it hated Vignolo-or Vignolo had managed to do it. He'd managed to debilitate Errand in some way.

And even the places Errand led him to were haphazard. Random. Some of them long stretches of gallery that gave Frederick no means to escape until he'd run the length of the room. Something had been done to Errand. And it couldn't save him. Not really. It was helping Frederick disappear, but it would be up to him to-

"Bastard," Vignolo hissed, appearing directly in front of him. "You can't run forever."

Frederick didn't have time to think-scrambling for the nearest item-a painting.

Vignolo's sword was nothing but a flash of lightning as it heaved down-

The force of it split through the canvas, slicing Frederick's arm.

But it was enough to get through the next door. Frederick now had anywhere between two-to-ten seconds to find another exit in hopes that-

"Errand," Frederick panted as he ran. "Are you all right?"

The hall vibrated with anguish, and Frederick opened another door that led to somewhere dark. Fuck. If Vignolo found him here, he would have the advantage.

"Errand," Frederick said, "where is Staff?"

Light shone from up ahead-another door opening-and a dark figure shadowed its way. "It's time to end this, Your Majesty."

Frederick went back through the door he came, but this wasn't where he was. He didn't know where to go. A long hallway. So many fucking doors. "Where's Staff, Errand?"

Every door opened.

He picked one and hurried. "Please-Staff-"

But the panic nearly crippled him, sweat seeping into his clothes. It was a conscious effort to make his legs move-make them move faster and faster. As if his every muscle bled. His pulse hammered in his throat, making it hard to breathe. He almost couldn't see the doors as he went through them, couldn't feel the handles as his hands struggled to turn them.

And the ringing in his ears had become deafening. He wouldn't be able to hear Vignolo gaining if not for his laughter.

"Errand, please," he breathed. "The staff-Staff-"

A door swung open as though it pained Errand to do it. Frederick begged the gods that he would find something of use. He gripped the threshold and searched the crammed space, finding-

He didn't have time to check its details, but he almost howled at the sight of that inappropriate woman with her breasts protruding proudly, her chin up in defiance. The Staff was in his hands. He could-

He was sent flying-soaring through the air-his back slamming into hardness before his body hit the ground.

"It's over," Vignolo snarled. "No more running."

Frederick's mind scrambled to figure out what was happening. Struggled to find what happened to Staff. But the metal radiated within his hand, a small ring that Vignolo didn't know he had.

"I am so sick of watching you parade around with her," Vignolo spat. "What is so special about you? What does she find so fucking fascinating?" He neared, looming over Frederick. "What power do you have to upset her? To make her care. When you're nothing. Worthless. Human piece of-"

Frederick sensed the sword raising before it lowered, and he raised Staff-forming a sword of his own as their metal clashed.

Vignolo's eyes widened. "How can it-"

"Stop. Gods. Stop." Gheorge fell to the floor behind Vignolo, Dumitri standing over him. But green veined from Gheorge's mouth, black absorbing his irises. "You-you bastards. When she finds out about this-"

Frederick didn't have the time to be horrified, and in a series of maneuvers, he'd managed to rush at Vignolo, putting distance between them. But the vampyre returned in force, Frederick doing his best to avoid him. There was no way to counter. Vignolo moved with inhumane speed-almost invisible.

"Gods, Freddie, please," Gheorge groaned. "For the love of fuck, use your training. I can't-I can't-"

"I know!" Frederick called. "Just shut up and save your-"

The distraction cost him, and Vignolo landed another blow. The pain stung his shoulder, blood pouring down his tunic, but he could still use both arms.

"Give up," Vignolo demanded.

Frederick said nothing, switching the weight in the balls of his feet.

Focus.

Gheorge was there with him, a comforting presence. For him, he would do it. He would get them both out of this and get Gheorge help. He could find that woman-Ginnfer?-and get a cure for whatever ailed him. Then he would come back for Viscon.

Those were his goals, and Frederick shifted to stand side-on as he raised his sword above his head, beckoning with his other hand. "Come on."

Vignolo tilted, giving Frederick enough to predict where he would-

Weapon met weapon.

His opponent snarled, angling his body to Frederick's left, exactly where Frederick wanted-

Vignolo roared with pain, his cold blood pouring over Frederick's shoulder. Staff had transitioned from a sword to spike with ease, the weapon lengthening through Vignolo's back. The bastard swiped, sending Frederick to the ground, the spike now a blade in his hands as he landed on his haunches.

Frederick grinned as Vignolo lunged, his enemy swinging with reckless abandonment. Vignolo was livid, an advantage Frederick exploited as he learned Vignolo's pattern, weaved-side to side-and stabbed.

Once.

Twice.

Every gash more satisfying than the last.

The bastard was fast but couldn't predict where Frederick would move, and Frederick tilted his body to the side, allowing Vignolo to pass. He shifted the weapon into a mace and quickly bludgeoned Vignolo's head with sickening crack, the bastard spitting blood as he fell to his hands and knees.

Frederick readied to turn Staff into a blade-any blade-and he raised it above his head to send through Vignolo's skull-

Force clenched around Frederick's throat and gripped, the ground beneath him slipping away as his feet struggled to gain purchase on something. Anything.

Frederick viewed Dumitri's face as he struggled in his hold, swiping and missing the hulking beast. His grip tightened to the point of pain. His blood rushed to his brain as his eyes rolled to the back of his head-

He shifted Staff into a knife and jerked it into Dumitri's side, causing the vampyre to release him. The weapon shrunk into his hand, and he gripped his neck. The throbbing in his ears made it impossible to sort through his thoughts. He briefly recognized Vignolo's bleeding body on the ground, but hands clamped down on his head.

He realized what Dumitri was about to do instantly, and he urged the weapon to lengthen into something in his hand-he didn't know what he willed it to do-cold blood pouring onto his knuckles as Dumitri's hands tensed to-

Frederick dropped to the floor, groaning. He refused to release the weapon for anything as he rolled onto his feet, stumbling to stand.

Red pulsed in his vision as he blinked rapidly, vaguely recognizing that a black shadow was fighting against the great being that was Dumitri.

Frederick forced himself to get to Gheorge-staggering about the hall until he could see watery red hair. He fell to his knees before he reached his friend, and hands reached to rove all over his face.

"You did well," Gheorge said over and over. "It's going to be all right. You did so-so well." Gheorge coughed up green and black, the fluids bubbling like the innards of a cauldron.

"You're going to be all right," Frederick panted.

But Gheorge looked pale and deathly. "I-I will?"

"I promise. We'll get Ginnfer-"

"Yes," Gheorge said, nodding. "Ginnfer."

Frederick blinked rapidly, begging his vision to clear. "Viscon?"

Gheorge shook his head. "I don't know."

Frederick moaned as he took Gheorge's arm and hung it over his neck, and with a great heave, he brought them both to their feet.

"Arabella," Gheorge whispered.

Her hands and nails dripped with blood, and she lowered to pick up a sword. "You dared to raise a hand against your queen? You dared to bring harm to Frederick?"

Dumitri's ramblings made no sense as he scrambled against the wall. A vampyre that big, and he was terrified of the woman approaching.

"You disappointed me today," Arabella breathed, running her fingertips along the blade. "But you'll never be able to disappoint anyone again."

Dumitri shouted for mercy-begged-pleaded-

But within seconds his head rolled along the floor, gaping up at Arabella as it stopped at her feet.

The sword bled in her hand as she turned, viewing the heaving bloody mess that was Vignolo. "And you ..."

Gheorge snarled at Frederick's side.

"I knew you were capable of something like this," she said calmly, reaching into the pocket of her skirt. "I knew how you felt, but never thought you'd act on it. Never thought you would go through with it."

"Arabella," Vignolo said. "I-"

"And this?" she asked, raising a gigantic ruby in the palm of her hand. "I found this purposefully removed and stuffed away in the castle. Only you knew about this."

Frederick couldn't help but recognize that stone, but he didn't know where. Didn't know how.

Arabella's teeth grit into a snarl. "Answer me."

"A being-something-found us months ago," Vignolo said, rushing his words.

"What being?" she said, stopping before him.

"I don't-" He swallowed. "I don't remember. But it did something to me-to Dumitri-"

"Did it?" she asked. "But you don't remember this being?"

"Since that force came into our lives, its been making us do things-things I wouldn't normally do. Gods, the red I see when I close my eyes-"

Frederick stopped breathing.

"It lives in Hendlemark," Vignolo gasped. "It's assisting King Rycard. It makes us go back to it once a month. It cursed Frederick to harm himself whenever he hears one word."

Frederick's heart sped into hurt, blood rushing to his brain. "Stop-"

"Frederick knows about it!" Vignolo shouted. "It happened to him, too. None of us can remember because it's some fucking magic. Some powerful evil-"

Arabella laughed but it sounded anything but pleasant. "I didn't think you would stoop to something like this. That you would blame an attack on my husband on some invisible being-"

"It's true!" Vignolo yelled. "And he told me what your word is, Frederick. He gave it to me and Dumitri to say to you. He told you to-"

Shock coursed through Frederick as the command clanged through his body. It swirled around his brain before twisting in his gut like a knife. And he could only gape at the man trembling on the floor.

Arabella's gaze darted between Vignolo and Frederick for several heartbeats before she returned to Vignolo. "Liar."

"Please-I swear it-I would never willingly defy you. No matter how much I hate your decisions!"

"You wouldn't, would you?" Her eyes turned red. "At least that's what you wanted me to believe. But it's been you all along."

"Arabella, please-"

"The dungeons. Frederick was stuck in the Spiderweb. Pulled to that vampyre. That was you, wasn't it?"

He lowered his head, tears streaming down his face.

"When Frederick and Viscon were attacked, that was you, also. You got Dumitri to help you. The both of you all this time-"

"He made me do it!"

Arabella viewed the sword with quiet calm. "I've always cared for you."

"Don't do this," Vignolo rasped. "I love you."

She shrugged. "You've betrayed me, and now you're nothing to me."

"He doesn't matter!" Vignolo screamed. "Your husbands come and go but I have always been at your side-loyal to you. You know he'll betray you like all the rest. You know that he can't love you like I do. You'll regret letting me-"

The thud cut quick through Frederick's soul, and in seconds, Vignolo was no more.

Arabella dropped the sword and stared, doing and saying nothing for a long, long while.

Frederick lowered Gheorge to the ground, his body moving on its own accord as if pulled by invisible thread. Numbness filled his being as he neared Arabella, unsure of what he was going to do. He'd been horrible to her not too long ago, and now she'd lost two of the men she trusted most in this world.

For him.

He wanted to apologize. To beg her forgiveness. To comfort her. To confess that Vignolo was right. He had wanted to betray her.

But he lowered and picked up the sword.

Gheorge flailed on the floor, his cries unintelligible. Arabella's eyes widened as Frederick raised the sword-

And he plunged the weapon through his body, pain exploding through his middle as he allowed himself to fall.

#

Frederick fought to come back in flickers. Rage unlike anything he'd ever felt filled every part of him.

But it disappeared like boiling water in a river, replaced by unbearable terror and misery. Such misery it culminated inside him and threatened to break him. He had to come back, he had to return, or else this misery would destroy everyone and everything.

His sister was waiting on him. He needed to free her once and for all.

And he had to wake up. He had to see Arabella. This guilt that paralyzed him was unbearable, and he could no longer plot in the shadows. She'd lost enough. But she might forgive him yet.

"Frederick."

He hadn't realized his eyes were open until Arabella slipped into the sliver of moonlight. The sconces lit, providing dim light to the room as if Errand knew that his eyes had not quite recovered enough yet.

Frederick licked his lips. "Ara."

Her hands smoothed up his stomach. "You're awake."

He coughed, and when he did a pain trigged from deep within his body. "What happened?"

"I don't know," she whispered. Whispered. "You were walking one moment, the next ..."

Pain ebbed throughout his stomach, and he'd realized what he'd done. He'd taken a sword and sent it into his own stomach.

Again.

"Do you remember what happened?" she asked. He nodded. "What came over you, Freddie?"

"I don't ..." He couldn't even bring himself to speak. To say anything. The throb of red threatened to resurface in his memory, and he clenched his eyes shut.

I don't know.

I don't know.

I don't know.

Her dark eyes held his. "Oron."

Shadows shifted next to him, and he had no energy to shrink as the whites of Oron's eyes peered down at him. "I'm glad to see you've recovered, Your Highness."

"Now that he's conscious, can you try to figure it out?"

"I'll do my best."

Oron raised his hands over Fredrick's chest and concentrated. Frederick focused on his breathing and counted the seconds. Anything to avoid the accidental flash of red that would surely follow if he kept thinking about what brewed inside him.

Arabella's cold hand held Frederick's own. "Oron learned much under Tessande. So just relax. We just have to find something."

Oron grunted and shook his head. "It's as if there are several locks. All of them require keys stranger than the last. An odd mystical signature. Ancient. Powerful. I've never seen anything like it."

"What?" Arabella said. "What does that mean?"

"He's definitely cursed, Your Highness," Oron announced, letting his hands drop by his sides.

Arabella blinked. "Cursed?"

"Yes, Your Highness. A curse is ingrained into his soul. It's deeply rooted there. I can feel it."

Frederick sensed that she was on the verge of her sanity. "Freddie, did you know about the curse?"

His mind swayed farther than his head, the sensation nauseating. "No. I don't know anything about a curse. But ... but it does make sense. No matter how hard I try, my mind doesn't remember what happened, but I know something happened. It is ... as Vignolo said."

"What do we do?" she asked, and he knew she wasn't speaking to him.

"If it's a curse, we have to go to the source," Oron said. "Is there anyone you can think of, Your Highness, who might have done this to you?"

He did know-but he didn't. He only knew his sardonic air. His cruelty. His power. Always that power loomed at the back of his mind like a threat.

Nothing that would help them.

"Do you know when it happened?" Arabella asked. "Was it before we met or is it because of me?"

"It was before we met, not because of you. I think it happened at Hendlemark, and that was the first time I-" He cleared his throat, shame burning through him like a fire. "That was the first time I stabbed myself."

She sagged. "I wish I knew about it sooner."

Frederick swallowed. "I wish I knew about it, too."

"Have you seen him before?"

He tried to answer. He could see him as he spoke with her, but the moment he went to tell her, the stranger disappeared. Wiped away like a smear of blood from a sword.

"What has this thing done to you," she whispered.

He didn't know.

Oron murmured something about needing to check on Ginnfer and Gheorge, and soon it was only the two of them alone.

"I'm going to help you," she said. "I'll do whatever it takes to get rid of it. I swear it. If I have to bargain with Tessande to get this reversed-"

"Don't."

She paused. "Frederick, I would-"

"Don't," he stressed. "I don't deserve that. I don't deserve your help."

She gripped his hand, squeezing it tight. "Don't say that."

He gritted his teeth. "I'm a piece of shit, Ara. I don't deserve anything from you. You've given more than enough, and yet I was cruel to you before this happened."

She licked her lips, her eyes glossing with pain. Gods, the hurt on her face made his heart clench. He should have never fought with her. Never. "Let's just worry about getting you well. As soon as you're better, I'll take you back to Thescan-"

"I can't leave you," he said, his voice breaking. "You killed two of your men over me."

"You don't have to stay because of that. They attacked you. I had no choice."

The guilt became suffocating. "I wish you hadn't-"

"It's done now," she said, gripping both his hands in hers. "I've lost them forever. And I'd kill them again. You don't understand what I'd do to protect you. And I nearly lost you today. If I had, I couldn't have lived with myself-"

"Gods, Arabella, I'm so sorry," he said. "I'm sorry you lost them because of me. They loved you utterly."

She rested her head on his chest, closing her eyes as if she were concentrating on his heart. "Tell me what happened." He recounted the events of the attack, and when he finished, she nuzzled into his warmth. "Vignolo isolated you and cornered you. Dumitri helped him by sabotaging Viscon and Gheorge-and Errand. Curse or not, they willingly planned to kill you, Frederick. You needn't feel guilty for that. And Vignolo used a word that triggered your curse-he did that knowingly. He wanted to kill you. So he had to go."

They remained a while in silence, and Frederick inhaled deeply.

"I'm sorry that this happened to you in my kingdom," Arabella said. "I don't know how to atone for all the things you've suffered by being here."

Every muscle tensed. "You have nothing to atone for. It is me who should be seeking your forgiveness. If you can find a way to forgive me for the things I said to you before this happened ..."

She seemed to be taking great pains to avoid his eyes. "I understand why you said those things. I fucked up. You should have known about your sister as soon as I did."

He shook his head. "It isn't your fault. You were only thinking of me."

"I was thinking of my own happiness. I wanted to seize it with both hands, even just for a second. I wasn't thinking of anyone but myself. And now I've lost you forever. As I deserve." She raised her head from him. "Don't pity me, Frederick. Just send for me when you need me in the future, and I'll be there."

Irrationality stole his body, reducing him to exhaustion. It leaked from the corners of his eyes, breathing into every sigh. He didn't want it to be over. He never wanted it to be over. She wanted to seize happiness and that's what they both had done in the days after Thescan before this moment.

How could he ever fault her for that? For wanting what he wanted to go back to, even now. "Can I take back what I said? Can I stay here with you."

She drew back as if he'd spat on her. And he deserved it.

"I'm sorry about what I said before," he rasped.

"Don't. Don't apologize to me."

"I regretted it the minute you left. I was abhorrent to you. I was so fucking cruel."

"Stop," she said, drawing away. "Just stop."

He sat up in bed, pain pulling at his side. "Ara, please."

She ran her hand through her disheveled hair and groaned. "No."

His throat tightened. "I'm sorry-"

"I don't deserve your apology. I'm the one who fucked up, Frederick."

"No, you didn't. I overreacted-"

She began to rock. "I-I can't stay here any longer. But if you're worried about losing our alliance-"

"It's not the alliance I'm scared of losing. I'm scared of losing you."

She moaned. "No."

"Ara-"

"Frederick, I said no. The answer is no. You will return to Thescan this week. Our kingdoms will remain allies. So do not make this harder than it needs to be."

"You're not even listening to me anymore."

"There's nothing to listen to," she whispered. "You have to go."

"Ara, you and I are married. You and I will fight. It is a normal, natural thing."

She shook her head. "No."

"What did you expect when you asked me to be your king? Did you really think that you and I would never fight."

"It's not just the words. All right? My men-men I trusted-attacked you," she said, her eyes widening with shock. "I barely made it back to you in time."

"That wasn't your fault."

"They could have killed you," she said again, as if she were no longer hearing him. "The longer you stay here, the longer you are at risk."

"Those who were a threat to me are gone, and you can't get them back."

"You ..." She blinked up at him. "You managed to savage Vignolo. He could barely move when I got there. You are ... astonishing."

His mouth tightened. "Then I proved that I can handle myself, and I wish to stay here. With you. I'll never take off the gods-damned Staff again if it means I get to stay. And I'll never be so careless with my words again. I swear it."

Her fang dented her lip.

"Please," he said again. "Please. Don't send me away."

"I don't think I can handle a fight like that again. I certainly can't handle the thought of you leaving anymore." She smoothed a lock of hair behind her ear. "My heart can't take much more of this, Freddie. The hoping then fighting then hoping again. I just-" She shook her head. "I can't. Not again. I'll break."

He lifted the blanket and opened his arms for her. She viewed the gesture with utter misery, as if she couldn't resist the pull to him, and she crawled to lie within his hold like an injured kitten. He settled the blankets about them both and gripped her tight, resting his jaw against her head. "You're right. It is impulsive and cowardly to walk away from you after every quarrel. I won't let my temper best me next time. I will do better by you."

"Then you'll stay?" she asked, her voice rough.

He nodded. "You'll help me free my sister?"

She placed a reverent kiss-a promise-over his heart. "I won't rest until she rests."

He licked his lips. "Then what do I do, Ara? How do I face an enemy I can't even see to reach a man who's holding my sister hostage."

"You become my king-Carnelia's king. And you declare that Carnelia is fighting alongside Thescan."

"And then?"

She drew patterns on his chest with her nail, slow and deliberate. "And then we go to war, of course."