For once, I was thankful for Eryx’s constant presence as he half-dragged me back to my chamber. After using so much power, my headache—a gift from my brutal hangover—had transformed into a needle-sharp pounding inside of my skull.

Eryx kicked open my chamber door and gave me a none-too-gentle push toward the bed. “Get the Korai some wine,” he growled over his shoulder.

Sluggishly, I turned my head, expecting to see another guard or one of the many palace slaves, but I was greeted by a pair of moss green eyes, glowing beneath a mass of red-orange curls.

“Parthenia.” Her name came out as a croak.

My handmaiden stepped closer, her delicate hands shooing Eryx from the room. “Out, you!” her lilted voice ordered. “I’m perfectly capable of tending to her without you hovering about. Out!”

Eryx scanned Parthenia for a long moment before he answered with an indifferent shrug. He stepped toward the door, but his long legs paused on the threshold. “I heard what favor you asked of the General Prince, my lady. You should know, guards are posted everywhere they might be needed. And I will be among them. I suggest you remember that.” He smiled his brown-toothed grin. “Goodnight, ladies.”

Parthenia kept her silence as the door snicked shut. Until his boot clicks grew too distant on the marbled hall floors to discern. She moved to the side table and picked up the crystal decanter. “That one’s rotten to the core,” she said, filling two glasses. “Of all the soldiers at his disposal, how could Varian choose that snake to keep watch over you?”

I eased down onto the mattress, too tired to summon much heat into my words, when I said, “Where in Hades have you been.”

She turned, wine in hand. Settling beside me, she offered me a glass. “Drink. Trust me, you’re going to need it for what I’m about to show you.”

I watched her warily but did as she said. “I’m assuming whatever you’re about to share explains your absence?”

“In a way.”

“Then show me.”

She took a breath, her face a bit flushed with nerves, and then she did.

The Ether shifted, spilling from that invisible well between worlds with the sweet green of a spring morning, and I was suddenly frozen with shock.

She changed. Right before my eyes, the skin of her face blurred as if I had focused on the same spot for too long. But it wasn’t a trick of my exhausted mind. Her nose turned up and her eyes slowly drifted further apart, the moss green of them dulling to a hazel that bordered on brown.

“Good gods,” I breathed. “The woman . . . the tribute from the Trial.”

Parthenia nodded. “Aye. My favorite mask, that.” She blinked and her features slowly shifted back until they were her own. She grinned a bit ruefully. “A useful trick.”

“I’d say so,” I answered on a shaky breath. “But . . . why . . . why would you let them take you? You could’ve been killed!”

The smile fell from her face. Her small, freckled hands fidgeted around the glass she held. “The slave you saved . . . Tafari . . . he . . . well, he’s mine,” she said, blush deepening. “Has been since we were children. The Imperials took him and someone else I care about as tributes. I had to do something. But really, we’d have died if not for Aidoneus.”

“Tafari! He’s alive?”

She smiled. “Safe with the Myridians. Aboard their ship.”

Relief rushed through me. Tafari safe, Parthenia returned . . . And it was all thanks to Aidon.

“That’s where you’ve been,” I said softly. “Aboard his ship.”

She nodded. “There is more to the story.”

And so, she told me her truth. She described watching her mother and father die at the hands of Dorian slavers when she was only a child. Of the nightmarish weeks aboard the crowded, dark slave ships, and the owners—each crueler than the last—then finally came a smuggler who set her and Tafari free. With him, they found a new home, working with Livonian rebels to free others. Eventually, they made their way to the Bastion. To the King of Livonia.

By the end of it, my head was spinning.

“The Livonian nobility fled the continent long ago. After Doria took control of their country,” she explained.

“That was the war—the final battle—when the Emperor channeled Ileana’s powers. When he killed her,” I said, stomach roiling at the thought.

Parthenia nodded. “Aye. What’s left of the Livonians live on an island north of the Shards—the Bastion of the Fallen, they call it. The waters there are treacherous and the island itself is hard to find, protected somewhat by whatever powers the King has. But the Dorians have been pressing closer and closer each year. So, the King promised to join the Shardian Alliance. In exchange, he asked Aidoneus to free you from the Celestial City. To bring you to the Bastion before you could be mated.”

The sickness in my stomach faded to an empty, leaden chill. “So, Aidon . . . he never meant to win me. He just wanted to hand me off to this King.”

She hesitated. “That was the agreement, though Aidoneus entering the Trials was certainly never part of the plan. He does have a reputation for making up the rules as he goes. I’ve suspected these past weeks that he meant to betray the King, maybe to keep you for himself, maybe for some other purpose. I can’t say with any certainty.”

Though my chest tightened, a small voice within reminded me that it was no different from any other competitor’s motivations. Aidon wasn’t here for me. Neither was Varian. At least, not completely. They all would’ve used me in whatever way suited them. After all, winning possession of my powers and my body was the entire point of the Trials. But Parthenia . . . she had been my handmaiden for three years. “And you?” I asked, voice razor-edged. “How do you fit into this alliance?”

Parthenia’s attention strayed to the empty glass of wine. “Tafari and I would likely be dead if it wasn’t for the King. So, when he asked me to come here, I did.” Her features tightened. “But things have gotten darker, since. When I found out about Cyron—”

“Cyron? Varian was called away there. Some sort of urgent military business.”

Parthenia’s answering grin was bitter. “No surprise there. The Dorians have been very busy in Cyron. Building.”

“Building, what?” I asked, thinking of that small, rocky island. “Ships?”

She shook her head. “Not just any ships. The shipbuilders now in Cyron are slaves—God-Blooded slaves—taken from the Twins, the Needle, Megaris, and Myridia. From the true naval powers in the Glass Sea. They are building The sort of fleet that could give Doria the strongest navy in the world. But that’s not the worst of it . . .”

I swallowed, remembering the Trial, the hunger in the Emperor’s voice when he spoke of using the monsters within his legions. “What? Were there cages and magical leashes?” I asked a bit sarcastically. “Has the Emperor figured out how to take his pets to sea?”

Parthenia took my hand, then, and squeezed it tight. “Aye. All his pets. Including you.”

Though my knees still felt like jelly, I pulled away to pace the floor, nerves too frayed to sit still. “A cage . . .They’ve built a cage for me.”

“Something like that, from the intelligence the King has gathered,” Parthenia said, softening. “I’m sorry, Aurora.”

“No. No . . . Varian loves me. He swore he wouldn’t use me as his mother had been used. His words were the truth.”

“The truth can be misleading,” Parthenia said. “You, of all people, should know that. And love . . . Sometimes love can be the very worst of poisons.”

“Surely this is wrong. Varian might not know.”

“He’s been to Cyron, Aurora . . . He has to know. The King has known for a long time that Doria was preparing for another offensive. He and Aidoneus may have their differences, but from what I’ve heard, they both agree that…”

“What?”

Her mouth twisted, face darkening. “That the Emperor was only waiting for the Trials to end. As soon as Varian has you, Doria goes to war.”

Parthenia’s revelations left me reeling, though I shouldn’t have been surprised. War was the only thing Dorians were any good at.

But how many lives would be destroyed this time? How many nations conquered? How many humans enslaved?

I couldn’t stand idly by while the one person in the entire world who might stand a chance against them died in a filthy dungeon cell. And, if I was being honest with myself, it was more than that. Despite Aidon’s dubious reasons for entering the Trials, the thought of never seeing that mischievous smirk of his again sent an unbearable jolt of pain through my chest.

So, I met her eyes, a mossy green that had been hazel only a moment before, and the beginnings of a plan stirred. “Parthenia, you can copy a face . . . What about a voice?”

Like flecks of wax too close to a flame, Parthenia’s freckles melted away and were replaced by a rosy complexion and a soft, subtle glow that seemed to come from beneath her skin. The untidy cluster of her curly hair smoothed into softly falling auburn waves. When she opened her eyes, it was not Parthenia’s clever cat-slits that met my gaze, but eerily familiar orbs gleaming a warm, golden amber.

My hands paused on the fastenings of the borrowed gown I wore. “By the gods,” I breathed. “That’s difficult to get used to.”

Parthenia shrugged her—my—shoulders. “Wait until you see me turn into a man. That’s when things get weird.”

I grimaced. “Please, spare me the details.”

She laughed, pulling at the simple servant’s dress that she’d given me after donning a nightgown from my own wardrobe. “It fits you rather well, if not for the length,” she said, frowning at my exposed ankles.

I looked down at myself as I fiddled with the simple brass brooches that fastened the gown over my shoulders. “Do you think this will work? You heard what Eryx said . . . guards are everywhere.”

She crossed to the bench at the end of my bed, where her discarded cloak lay. “Put this on, kept the hood up and your hair covered. If you don’t give anyone a reason, they won’t look too closely at you. No one notices servants.”

“Is this wisdom gained from all your spying?”

She rolled her—my—eyes.

I scrutinized her much better disguise and some of my nerves calmed. She was a near-perfect copy of me, down to every last coppery wave, though my silk nightgown dragged the marble floor. Apparently, adjusting her height to match my own was beyond her ability. Hopefully, no one would notice that I’d shrunk several inches in the hours since I’d healed the Eleutherian. But unless I was caught making my way to the dungeons, no one should have reason to give the small height difference a thought.

“I hope you’re a good actress,” I said.

She flashed me a wink. “No worries there, Korai.”

Then she was at the door. I pulled the hood of her cloak up over my head and backed away towards the servant’s entrance. I waited while she straightened her spine and gave a haughty shake of her head, then she flung the door open and an impressive echo of my voice rose in a petulant fury. “Where is Eryx? I demand to see the General Prince. Immediately!”

Eryx? If he wasn’t posted outside of my door, then where was my weasely warden? I didn’t have time to worry about that. It was now or never.

I slunk into the narrow corridor beyond the servant’s entrance and rushed down the darkened halls that would lead me into the bowels of the palace. To the dungeons, and to Aidon.With every twisting level of the staircase I descended, my heart beat faster beneath my borrowed dress. The first three floors were safe, as I could travel the same stairwell until I reached the fourth floor down, which held the kitchens and the palace’s cavernous wine cellar. From there, I would be forced to leave its safety to travel down an open corridor until I reached another ancient stairwell that lead to the back entrance to the dungeon. Only used by the kitchen slaves who delivered food to the unfortunate occupants of those dark, dank cells, the corridor leading there was not always well-guarded. And now, with Aidon on the brink of joining his father in the Underworld, I hoped it would be deserted.

But Eryx’s words . . . I doubted the threat was an idle one. And if there was a guard somewhere along my path, I prayed Parthenia’s diversion proved enough of a disturbance to draw him to my chamber.

My hand rested on the smooth, well-worn stone that curved from the stairwell to form a part of the corridor wall. I peeked around the corner, careful to keep my body close to the stone, my face hidden in the shadows of my hood.

The hall before me, dimly lit by torches spaced too far apart to completely banish the shadows, was empty. I stepped away from the safety of the stairs, thankful that my sandaled feet padded near-silent against the rough stone floor, and continued on, trying my best to look like a servant about my normal business.

Sounds floated down the hall—muffled voices, the clanking of pots, the gentle crackle of the hearth fire—and I quickened my steps. A hand holding my hood firmly in place, I rushed past the warmth and light of the kitchens, but my caution was needless. The servants and slaves were too busy baking the next morning’s bread to pay me any mind. Still, I breathed a relieved sigh when I passed with no sign of a guard.

I made it beyond the cool darkness of the wine cellar and rounded the final bend in the corridor. Only steps ahead, cloaked in the darkness between torches, stood the old stone staircase that would lead me to Aidon.

My feet skittered to a stop, heart a frozen lump in my chest.

Eryx lazed against the wall, his long form in the same shadows that darkened the staircase. Face lax with boredom, he picked at his filthy nails.

I backed away slowly, not even daring to breathe.

But Eryx was a God-Blooded Dorian, his senses blessed by his pedigree. He stiffened. Hearing or scenting me, he pushed off the wall. A moment of stillness, then he turned.

I spun, scrambling past the turn in the corridor. I banged my arm into the stone wall hard enough to send pain shooting down to my fingertips. One of the brass brooches at my shoulder came loose and clattered to the floor. I cringed at the sound but didn’t dare retrieve it. I hurried back the way I’d come, but I couldn’t run. No. That would only send Eryx chasing after me. I breathed, trying to calm my pounding pulse. Steps sounded behind me, slow and deliberate. The only thing that could aid me now was my disguise.

Only a servant, only a servant, only a servant; the mantra repeated in my head. I was only a servant, hastening to fulfill a priestess’ bidding. Aidon’s life depended on Eryx believing it.

The booted heel clicks grew nearer, then paused, replaced by the rustle of cloth and the heavy clink of armor as he bent to retrieve the lost brooch. “You’ve dropped your trinket, lovely,” his oily voice called.

I didn’t stop. I didn’t turn.

His steps once against echoed behind me. “In quite a rush, are we?” Something changed in his tone, hardened. His steps fell faster.

Thankful for Parthenia’s shorter dress and the freer movement it allowed me, my own feet hastened.

“I’m speaking to you, girl!”

With his longer stride, the distance between us grew dangerously short.

I resisted the urge to run—it would only mark my guilt. But within a few heartbeats, he would be upon me.

My heart hammered, panic rising. Then a figure turned into the corridor from a branching path and I crashed face-first into the male’s chest.

The air whooshed from my lungs at the impact. Large hands took my elbows, keeping me upright. Thankfully, my hood had stayed in place. I angled my face toward the ground. “In a hurry, miss?” asked the male in a laughing voice—another Imperial, judging by the red and gold he wore.

“Apologies, sir,” I mumbled in my best impression of Parthenia’s lilted voice.

He chuckled again, holding me just long enough to ensure I had my footing before releasing me. I hurried on.

Behind me, I heard his voice. “Ah, Captain,” he called to Eryx, only steps behind me. “I was sent to fetch you. The Korai is in a state. She’s demanding to see the General Prince.”

I didn’t slow, pushing on until the lights of the kitchen glowed from its open doorway.

“The Korai,” Eryx repeated, voice wary. “In her chamber?”

I ducked into the kitchen. The slaves only spared me the barest glance before returning to the bread kneading.

“That girl there—” Eryx began.

“What, sir? The handmaiden, you mean?”

“Never mind,” Eryx grumbled. “The lady cannot see the General Prince,” he said, steps once again sounding. “He isn’t here.”

“But I thought—”

“It’s of no importance, what you thought. He left after he met the Korai in the infirmary. Said he had urgent business to see to. He’ll be gone for days.”

“Then what do we tell the lady? She’s hysterical. If we cannot control her . . . ”

The footsteps halted by the kitchen door. “I know,” Eryx growled. “The Emperor seems curious about what she might do next. His . . . change has made him reckless. But we need to keep her in line. If she breaks through, it could lead to chaos.”

I started. Break through . . . break through what?

Silence stretched thin between them. “We’ll have to find a way to calm the little bitch,” Eryx said. “And if that doesn’t work . . .”

“The wine?” the other soldier asked. “There is an entire cask of the stuff in the cellar. That would certainly keep her quiet.”

No. Not again. My heart beat out a frenetic cadence. The Emperor’s wine . . . I wasn’t sure I could survive another dose of it.

“No,” Eryx said. “The General Prince was furious when he found out she’d been ill, and he only suspected. If he hears of any harm befalling her, heads will roll.”

Footsteps sounded again, hurrying toward the stairwell that led to my chamber. I scooted further into the kitchen as they passed.

When their steps had long faded, I bent over, hands pressed to my knees. There wasn’t enough air in the heated kitchen as I gasped for breath. Thank the gods they didn’t want to drug me again. If they tried . . . Parthenia. It would be Parthenia they gave the wine to. And whatever strange blood ran through her veins, I couldn’t count on it being strong enough to save her. There was nothing for it now. I had to trust her to know how far to push.

It was all I could do to calm my heaving stomach, to straighten and take that first step down the darkened hall. But when I did, my feet grew steady and my mind cleared.

Aidon.

I saved him once. I could certainly do so again.