It took all of a second for Viscon to take Frederick back to Thescan, making them appear at the tree line where they first met. From there the castle of Thescan could be seen from a distance, towering into the night like pillars of stone.

Home. He had returned home, and he recalled Arabella's words: In fact, if you prefer it, you may return to Thescan indefinitely. I need only bother you if the water does not come.

How tempting that would be.

"It looks different at night," said Viscon. "I can see a road that leads to the castle. Shall I take us there?"

He wanted to ask Viscon to return to Carnelia but knew the vampyre would refuse, and there wasn't a thing Frederick could do to make him leave. "No. I don't want to risk anyone accidentally seeing us appear out of thin air. We might frighten them." He looked up into the night sky, finding the stars were barely visible tonight. "Besides, it might be nicer to walk."

They both wended through the trees until they reached the path that led to the city's entrance. They traversed the rest of the way in silence until they neared the kingdom walls.

Soldiers by the entrance caught sight of them, and they raised their spears and pointed them at Viscon. Frederick removed his hood and glowered. "Lower your weapons at once and open the gates."

They obeyed, and several soldiers scurried to open the gates for the arrival of their prince.

#

Frederick's room remained untouched in his absence, and though he had only been away for a month he viewed it through new eyes. A modest bed sat on the far right against the window. Swords, axes, and shields hung above the empty fireplace. Stuffed chairs rested at careless angles in the room. There were no sculptures. No paintings. No books for entertainment. He hadn't wanted anything with flourish to decorate the room, ordering the servants to remove the canopies and drapery so he could rise with the sun. He took his meals alone before heading to the stables to ride his horses, then spent the remainder of the day doing tasks he hated, including military or political meetings. And in the evening he returned to this place alone night after night.

It all seemed so menial now.

"Will you need anything, Your Majesty?" one of the soldiers asked.

"No," Frederick said. "That will be all."

"And-" The guard swallowed. "And your valet?"

Frederick glanced at Viscon. "He will occupy the room next to mine and make his own adjustments to it. You may leave."

The soldiers bowed and left.

Viscon cast his eyes about the room, forming his own silent impressions. "May I get you ready for rest, Your Majesty?"

"No, but you can help me prepare. Fetch something formal from the wardrobe, please. Something very Thescan."

Viscon asked no questions and set to work, helping Frederick shed his garments and change into new ones. As he suspected, the peace and quiet did not last. Footsteps boomed from the hall, causing Frederick to sigh.

"Shall I tell them to not disturb you?" Viscon asked.

Frederick shook his head. "No. This one will not take no for an answer."

"Very good."

The door creaked open, and boot-steps scuffed against stone before abruptly halting. "Frederick?"

"Father," Frederick said, focusing on his cuff. "Meet my valet Viscon. Viscon, may I introduce you to Prince Urnald of Aldren Heights, my father and the brother to the Gentle King."

Viscon dipped his head in acknowledgment but did not bow or stop the task of Frederick's buttons.

"I would ask to see you alone but the king-"

"Knows I'm here already? I'll be ready in a moment."

His father seemed to hesitate, drawing to some conclusion before closing the door behind him.

Viscon finished and stepped back. "You're ready."

"You may wait for me here or go to your room and retire for the evening, but you are not to follow me while I see the Gentle King."

Viscon bowed. "Then I will await you here so that I may get you ready for bed. Just know that if something is amiss, I will come after you."

Frederick nodded. "Thank you, Viscon."

He stepped out into the hall, and Urnald joined him in an instant, touching his arm as if he couldn't trust what he was seeing. "Frederick, is it truly you?"

"It is," he said through gritted teeth.

"What the fuck is that thing?" Urnald asked.

Frederick moved away from his father and checked his jacket. "Viscon? He's my valet. And do not speak ill of him at the door-his hearing is far better than ours."

The lines of age had etched deeper into Urnald's face, his hair more gray than coal now. "So that thing is a-"

"Vampyre. Now let's be on our way."

The two of them moved up the hallways and staircases in tense quiet, and he could see his father trying to get a glimpse of him at his side. "So?"

"So, what?" Frederick asked.

"You're a king now."

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "No."

"No?"

"She has to declare me as King of Carnelia."

"She has to what?"

Frederick shook his head. "Let's not speak of it now."

"Will she lend her forces to us? Are they all like that man in your room?"

"No. She will not allow me to use her forces. Not until she deems me worthy."

"Then give her what she wants," Urnald said, as if the matter were that simple. "The growing threat from the Star rises every day. Boralin has already declared their alliance with Hendlemark, and if Boralin has picked a side then Adora will follow them."

"Has Bront returned?"

Urnald scowled but allowed Frederick to change the subject. "The king returned alone."

Frederick bit back his annoyance. They were likely keeping Bront hidden until it was safe for him to return to the public again. So much concern for their precious, pretty prince. But Frederick? He was the heir's spare. The one to cover for Bront when he wasn't man enough to take care of himself. To position as they pleased and toyed with at will.

"What happened to you there? What did she do to you."

"Nothing."

"Frederick-"

"We're here." The guards opened the double doors and allowed them entry, and Frederick and Urnald entered the king's bedroom. "You asked to see me, Your Highness?"

The king raised his head from the red-and-gold carpet but didn't rise to stand, nor did he face them. All that could be seen of him was the back of his nightshirt, his knotted gold-and-silver hair hanging in clumps around his head.

The Chalice had gifted the Gentle King with power decades ago to see into the future. It gave him the ability to see thousands of possibilities, and the king could no longer commit to one thread by which to lead his people. He was terrified of using his power to make any detrimental decisions, gifting him with the name of Gentle King, for he was no longer useful to anyone. "By the gods, Frederick, is that you?"

"Yes," Frederick said slowly, "I returned from Carnelia not long ago."

The Gentle King's shoulders sank. "Did they whisper very loudly when they saw you again, or were they shouting softly like the day you returned?"

Frederick grappled for patience. "You asked to see me."

"You saw her with your own eyes?"

Frederick paused. "The Widow Queen?"

"Is she beautiful? She is so lovely in my dreams. I no longer see as many futures with her, but she will always be in my past."

Frederick did not answer. There was nothing to say to that.

"Do you like Carnelia?"

"They are hospitable," Frederick said dryly.

"There is no Carnelia in my future. I will never see it rain with blood."

His stomach churned. "We must talk about the water."

"Both you and the queen must beware the man who walks the grave."

"What man?"

"I couldn't find Bront. There were too many threads to follow ..."

"Forget Bront for a moment and go back to the man that you spoke of."

The Gentle King spoke over his shoulder. "What man speaks?"

"You mentioned a man!" Frederick said.

He shook his head. "Never drink from the Chalice, son. It will give you a power that destroys you. Promise me you will never drink from the Chalice, not even if it sings, or cries, or screams for you."

Frederick stifled a shudder. If he did take Thescan, then he would have to drink from the Chalice, and it would bestow upon him a unique power as it had with all the rulers of the Star. All the powers the Chalice imparted were great, and all of them were horrifying. The weaker rulers throughout history killed themselves within a month. Others lived long lives of madness. And every time the Gentle King spoke to Frederick about the Chalice, the prophecy was always horrifying. "I will not drink from the Chalice."

"No," the king agreed. "I made sure that you won't. That it can never get you."

Frederick tilted his neck from side to side until it gave a soft pop. "We must discuss the water-the water you promised the Widow Queen."

"And what did you promise? What do you see when you close your eyes. The world sees black, but you see red."

"Enough, Undrel," Urnald demanded. "What do you need with your nephew?"

"I-" He sucked a breath. "I am to receive a present from the Widow Queen. Did you bring it?"

"I have not brought anything from the Widow Queen to give to you," Frederick said. "We need to talk."

The Gentle King shrugged. "No. She will bring it herself. There will be music and dancing-"

"The damned water," Frederick cut. "Order the dam to be destroyed."

"Yes, the dam shall fall."

"So that's it?" Frederick said. "We can destroy the dam?"

"No. The dam will stay."

"You promised-"

"Yes, it will fall. But not now. The man who's split in halves will bring the water you need for now."

"Fucking mad," Prince Urnald muttered.

"The Widow Queen needs water!" Frederick shouted. "Will you commit to what you promised her or will you-"

The king screamed and gripped his head, his eyes glowing as white as the Guardian Stone. "Never drink from the Chalice, son. Never, never-"

Frederick could only watch as the king squirmed and ripped out his hair.

"Never drink from the Chalice-it will rend you in two-and if the woman with two heads calls you to the light, go to her. Swear to me that you will go to her."

Frederick backed a step, then another. At some point his hand had absently made its way to his sword hilt, and for the thousandth time in his life he contemplated doing it. Here. Now. Killing the Gentle King while he was vulnerable.

It would be so easy.

He could find a blade in the room and make it look like he'd killed himself.

Now. It would be so easy to end it now and kill the bastard where he writhed.

Who would challenge him? Who could.

As if sensing his thoughts, Urnald gripped Frederick's shoulder. "Not now."

Frederick released the sword at once. Yes, of course not now. Not when there would be retaliation. The King's Council were still far too powerful to dare an assassination now.

No. He couldn't do it now. Not when he hadn't won over the Widow Queen to seize control of the kingdom once and for all.

"Not now not now not now not now-" the Gentle King cried over and over.

"Shit," Frederick rasped. "Make him stop."

Make him stop before it was too late.

Make him stop before his ramblings were no longer mad but a true prophecy.

Make him stop before he said something that could never be taken back.

Urnald roared for the guards.

"Swear to me that you will die! Stop at nothing to make sure you die. She will never love you if you don't. You'll never fix what you've done unless you die-you understand?"

Frederick's heart hammered in his chest. Fuck. And he couldn't stop himself from asking, "Am I ... to die soon, then?"

"Don't listen to him," Urnald snapped. "Undrel, do shut up!"

"I beg you-die now. Do not delay. Die and save us all!"

"Get him off the floor," Urnald commanded, soldiers rushing to the king's side.

"Do not drink from the Chalice-the two of you were always inevitable in the-"

"The healer is here," Urnald said, taking Frederick's shoulder. "We need to leave."

"Beware the man who walks the grave!" the king shouted, reaching for Frederick over the soldiers that dragged him to the bed. "Beware the line of Heaven and Hell. Do not fear the ghost of yourself but beware the Chalice and its false promises!"

Frederick forced himself to turn and follow after his father, his breathing harsh and painful.

"Forget what he said," Urnald commanded, but he looked just as shaken as Frederick felt. "Are you hearing me?"

But Frederick couldn't bring himself to agree.

Swear to me that you will die! Stop at nothing to make sure you die.

"What he said meant nothing-nothing."

Frederick shook his head. "But just in case it does mean something-"

"It doesn't."

"Ensure you have a worthy successor in the event that I might die, Father," Frederick said anyway.

"You aren't going to die, you hear me? He's been wrong before-many fucking times. I won't-" His hands trembled as he smoothed his hair along his scalp. "I won't allow it. I won't. No matter what I have to do or what it costs me, nothing will happen to you. So help the gods, I won't let it."

Frederick closed his eyes. The two of them could deny it all they wanted, but the Gentle King had spoken a true prophecy. Something nasty was awaiting Frederick, and he had no way of knowing how to prepare for it.

How much time did he have to accomplish what he needed?

"Now," Urnald continued hoarsely, "return to your room while I go and visit with Queen Dorothea. I will demand a meeting with the King's Council tomorrow morning to convene about the water you need. And when I'm finished with her, you and I have much to discuss."

#

The King's Council comprised of twelve power-hungry, pompous king-pleasers, and only seven of them sat at the long crescent-moon table today.

King Undrel himself was in attendance, seated in the ornate gold Seat of the Sun between Queen Dorothea and his adviser. His clear green eyes signaled his lucidity this morning, last night's outburst seemingly forgotten.

Frederick stood at the golden lectern before them, tracing the solar patterns filling the expanse of the marble floor with his eyes. His father stood at his back, a silent steady presence as Frederick relayed Arabella's request. The King's Council viewed him with scrunched noses as if he had brought a bad smell into the room, their king nodding at random intervals.

"Water," his adviser, Lord Hethrensen, finally said. "She wants our water?"

"Not our water," Frederick said, "but the water that has been blocked from her kingdom. The water that would flow downstream into a river through her lands. Apparently our ancestors had blocked it off to-"

"I know why," Hethrensen said. "Our ancestors blocked it off to stop those Carnelian things from thriving. Just how many of them exist now?"

Frederick didn't know. He had traveled in and out of the city but never saw any of her subjects. He did not even know what they were-human, vampyre, or other monsters. But he wouldn't tell the King's Council that he lacked that knowledge. "Thousands and thousands."

Curses sounded around the court, and Hethrensen's forehead creased. "Thousands?"

"Thousands," he repeated. "And their queen has entered this marriage to find peace between our kingdoms."

"She said this?"

"Certainly," Frederick lied. "I would like to make this a gesture of goodwill on behalf of Thescan and release this water to her and her subjects."

Murmurs sounded around the room.

"-Water is life-giving."

"-It would only make the people and their queen stronger."

"-We cannot allow it."

"This is all true," the Gentle King agreed. "Water is life-giving, and giving life to those beings will only make them stronger."

"Trust me," Frederick said, striving for patience, "they are quite undefeatable without our aid. To withhold something that would continue to anger them would be severely unwise."

"But why do they want it so badly now?" one of the court members asked.

Hethrensen folded his arms, waiting for Frederick to speak.

"Hygiene. Nourishment." Frederick glared. "The same things that humans need water for."

More murmurs sounded around the court, and he decided it was time to stop accommodating their delays. "You were willing to send Prince Bront to Carnelia. You were the one willing to open communication with their kingdom. When Bront wouldn't do it, you sent me there to-"

"And we are grateful," Hethrensen said. "But we did not expect you to-"

The room silenced, council members shifting awkwardly in their seats as they all looked to Hethrensen.

"What?" Frederick demanded. "Come back? Survive."

He cleared his throat. "Of course we wanted you to survive."

"Then spit it out," Frederick demanded. "What is it you hoped for?"

"Fredrick," Urnald murmured, standing closer to his side. But Frederick didn't need him there, forcing the respect of the court. He could do it on his own.

"Give him some respect!" Queen Dorothea said. "Fredrick is our nephew and a Prince of Thescan. So do explain what you are trying to say, Lord Hethrensen?"

"I am saying!" Hethrensen shouted. "I am saying ..." The court went silent. "We thought the marriage between our kingdoms would be enough. That she would have you and be happy. Your reputation-"

"My reputation?" Frederick repeated. "My reputation-"

"Frederick, stop," Urnald warned, clamping a hand on his shoulder.

But Frederick would not yield. "What about my fucking reputation?"

Hethrensen and Frederick glared at one another. Every time Frederick stood before the King's Council, the two of them would get into some pointless argument that took away from the issues Frederick needed solved. Their hatred for one another was well known, and today it would be more apparent than ever. For Hethrensen was a self-serving man ruled by greed who turned a blind eye to injustice-especially when it came to his despicable, entitled son. And yet, he still thought himself fit to order Frederick in military matters.

Frederick thought he might kill him straight after the Gentle King was usurped. And that would all depend on what the bastard had the gall to say next. "Say what you were going to say. I dare you."

Distaste colored his face. "You and your father-the both of you-master seducers and scoundrels-"

Frederick started for him.

Hethrensen, the coward, removed his sword from its sheath. In an instant smoke swirled between them, and from the whorls a figure emerged.

Viscon.

The court gasped. Some fled for the exists. The soldiers recovered from the shock and raised their spears.

"Stand down," Frederick commanded. "All of you."

Viscon bowed and stepped aside. "As you wish, Your Highness, but if he dares to draw his sword on my master again ..." He bared his fangs at Hethrensen, who had the decency to look unsettled.

Frederick waited for the pandemonium to subside as the remaining court members resumed their seats, struggling to summon much-needed coolness for the rest of this conversation. "You expected me to seduce her and just keep her happy? Did you think a ruler-a queen-would fall for something as stupid as that? As though she would not be able to find cock when it pleased her?"

And as he spoke, he was ready to admit to himself that his plan had been foolish. His way of thinking flawed. He thought it would be easy to seduce her. To wield her to his will.

He was just as moronic as every member on this council that sat before him.

Queen Dorothea cleared her throat. "This isn't the time nor the place."

"You set me up," Frederick continued, focusing on Hethrensen as he climbed the shallow steps. "You whispered in the king's ear to send me there. You hid Prince Bront to force me into this-"

"Fredrick," Urnald called.

"And what will he do?" Frederick demanded. "Incite your wrath-ignite mine? We are the only reason the army still fights for these cowards! I am the only one doing what needs to be done to stop these walls from crumbling down."

"We've all made sacrifices!" Hethrensen said. "Do not think you are the only person who has had to suffer for the good of this kingdom."

"You-you dare speak to me about suffering for the good of this kingdom. My hands that are dirty at your command because the king is too fucking insane to make his own decisions."

Objections sounded around the room, and the Gentle King began to mutter. "My son ..."

"I do what needs to be done," Hethrensen continued, "and sometimes that comes at the cost of men like you!"

Queen Dorothea paled. Uncomfortable silence stole the room.

"Men like me?" Frederick turned his finger about the room, the soldiers straightening in their posts. "Men like them?"

"Apologize," Urnald growled. "Apologize to my son and your soldiers immediately."

Hethrensen's eyes darkened. "I apologize, Your Majesty. That's not what I meant to say. I do not wish to offend the new king of Carnelia."

Frederick didn't bother correcting him. "Then enlighten me with what you did mean to say."

"We need you to keep the peace with the Widow Queen, and we sent you there to keep her wrath at bay. We need you to do that by any means possible. Make her forget about the water."

"No," Frederick said, holding his gaze. "I will do no such thing."

"Do not ask for something unreasonable!"

"There is more than enough rainfall to sustain this city. The grass and trees and fields are over-saturated with the damage from having a dam." His pulse raced. "This is her last attempt at peace and if you do not concede-" He shook his head. "Then I will not be responsible for what happens to you in this comfortable court of yours."

Frederick loomed over Hethrensen, enjoying the bravery leeching from his face. "You mention my reputation again-you mention my father-" He seized Hethrensen's throat the same way Arabella had taken the prisoner. Nothing would please him more than ripping Hethrensen from limb to limb. "You use me like this ever again and I will finish you."

"Guards-" he gurgled. "Guards!"

But none of them moved to interfere. The soldiers knew better than to interrupt their Prince General as he meted out discipline. Even in his brief absence, his men remained well-trained, loyal, and the thought delighted him. Members of the court scurried to put distance between the pair of them. But no one came to Hethrensen's aide. The king himself gave an absent smile but did not order him to stop.

Frederick released him, throwing him back into his seat, and Hethrensen gripped his throat. "I will treat you as you deserve to be treated," he said. "Cross me again, and it will be the last time you do."

He went down the steps and headed for the door, Viscon following at his side. "You have two weeks to advise of your decision to destroy the dam. If I hear nothing through the Guardian Stone, then his face"-he gestured to Viscon-"will be by your side when you wake. Remember it well."

Viscon grinned and made it look positively feral, ensuring that every council member could see it. The soldiers hurried to hold the doors open, and Frederick and Viscon stepped out into the hall, their synchronized boot steps echoing off the marble. Someone rushed after them, but Frederick did not need to turn back to see who it was.

"You should not have done that!" Urnald shouted, catching up to him.

Frederick shook his head. He didn't care. Nothing his father could say would make him care.

"That is the king's adviser! Hethrensen is what he is but without him-"

"Not if we have anything to say about it."

The color in Urnald's face blanched as he scanned the halls. "Do not say that. Not out here. It is not our time."

"Leave me."

"Frederick, put your head on straight."

"I came with Queen Arabella's request-"

"You cannot request on behalf of that thing."

A snarl cut through the air, causing them to stop. Urnald finally had the sense to look unnerved as Viscon bared his dripping fangs. "What I meant to say," Urnald continued softly, "was that Queen Dorothea will speak with her husband about your request. She will convince him today while he is lucid."

"It shouldn't be done because that whore seduced him into it-it should be done because I fucking asked."

"They don't know you're not a king and they don't need to find out. So don't make demands that jeopardize your authority. Pick your battles-and not over the water! They know she is trapped by the Binding Stone and can't do a thing about it."

"She is-but her army isn't." Rage ebbed through his blood. "They'll release the water as was promised to her, or I will let the vampyres have their way with the King's Council and be done with it."

"And you should," he said, "just not now, Frederick. Wait for the right time."

Frederick held his gaze. "I wouldn't have changed what I did in there. Hethrensen deserved it and should know better than to fuck around where I'm concerned. He should know better than to talk about a queen who could kill him with a flicker of a thought." Arabella couldn't go to punish Hethrensen herself, but Hethrensen could be taken back to Carnelia for an unforgettable experience.

Urnald glanced at Viscon. "Is there any way we can talk without your ..."

"Not necessary," Frederick said. "Viscon, let's go."

Frederick said nothing to Viscon as they marched through the hallways and exited the castle. He reached the stables, and Viscon dismissed the stablemen before Frederick could give any orders.

He arrived at the stalls and greeted each horse, the beautiful beasts quieting as Viscon followed. There was one horse he wanted to see, and the clever thing whined with excitement. Cecilia's intelligent eyes recognized him at once, and she was quick to rub her nose against his jaw.

Frederick grinned. "I missed you, too. And look at your eyes and your coat! Someone listened to me and ate all their food like a good girl. Have they been feeding you the apples that you like? You're glowing with health, darling."

Viscon opened the latch, but Cecile didn't leave her stall, her eyes becoming aware of Viscon. "Shall I get you a saddle and a bridle, Master?"

"No need," Frederick said proudly. "She is smooth-gaited and exceedingly obedient. I shall ride bareback."

He smiled tiredly at Frederick. "Of course."

"My apologies, Viscon. I did not even think you may need some time to rest. Will you be all right to return to the castle?"

"I will be fine," Viscon replied. "I will be staying where you are."

"To watch me?" He said nothing. "You will not be watching me. You are dismissed."

"With all due respect-"

"Is that what she ordered you to do? Watch over me."

He shook his head. "No, Master."

"Then obey."

"Your Highness," he said softly, "I admire what you said in there greatly, but a solitary horse ride-which I suspect was your habit here, a habit likely known by many others-is an optimal time for an assassination."

Frederick stilled. "They wouldn't dare!"

"I acknowledge that anyone would be foolish to attack you. Even in places like Carnelia, you are known for your ruthlessness, and that's what they fear. But if they fear you enough ..." Viscon raised a brow.

Frederick caressed Cecile's neck, enjoying the silkiness of her mane as he pondered Viscon's words. "I will go for a ride, but if you insist on following me then you must do so discreetly."

"Very good, Master."

"These horses are all mine, and any one of them is welcome to you."

"No need," Vison said. "My kind isn't without their skills. You won't notice that I'm near."

Frederick stifled a shudder. Just how much did Viscon see of him that he didn't know about. How many of them were watching him in Carnelia?

"And afterward?" Viscon asked. "Will we be journeying back to Carnelia?"

Arabella returned to his mind. In fact, if you prefer it, you may return to Thescan indefinitely. I need only bother you if the water does not come.

But he would return to Carnelia, even if she didn't want him there. For Frederick lacked control over this situation and his new wife, but the King's Council didn't need to know that. He had to return for appearance's sake or else arouse suspicion. He wasn't as powerful as he made himself out to be-not yet-but soon.

"Would you prefer to stay in Thescan for few days?" Viscon asked.

Frederick looked to the sky, a plan forming in his mind. "No, we will leave tonight, but there is something we must ready to take with us before we go."