“He knew Kiran and Fin were illegitimate?” I ask, slightly shocked. As much as Kiran hated his father, his father was obsessed with him. Obsessed with molding him into the perfect tyrant, the perfect heir to his throne.

Lydia shakes her head, her braid wavering. “No. Well, he believed Fin to be illegitimate, but he refused to acknowledge Kiran, his heir, could be any male’s but his.”

I must have shown my judgment on my face, because Lydia gives a wry laugh. “There has been at least one occasion recorded in which a fae female was impregnated by two males. Twins with different fathers. I know you’re thinking this is unlikely, which would make you a reasonable person. My father was not a reasonable person.”

“You’ve known for this long that the twins had a different father from you, yet you never said anything,” I say.

Lydia shrugs. “It would have only served to hurt them.”

“You mean it would have hurt Kiran,” I say. “Would have meant he never received the throne.”

Lydia shuffles as if uncomfortable.

“I thought you believed Kiran was a dreadful ruler.”

“I did. Do still, sometimes. But I suppose I hoped better for him. And as much as I hated what he had become, what my father had shaped him into…”

She pauses, and for the first time, Lydia actually looks uncertain. “Well, for one, I was truly my father’s daughter. His blood, his evil, runs in my veins, not Kiran’s. And Kiran… I can only imagine how much better off he’d have been if he’d had our mother’s influence to guide him, even just a little while longer.”

“You blame yourself for parts of Kiran’s past, don’t you?”

“I took his mother away from him. I couldn’t take his throne, too—his identity. What right did I have, truly, to judge Kiran, when my father had made me a monster of Kiran’s equal? The only difference was that Kiran took ownership of the monster inside while I choose to hide in the shadows.”

I shrug. “You’re a monster to the monsters, Lydia. In most stories, that makes you the hero.”

She looks down at me with apprehension. “I think sometimes, Asha, you see good where it isn’t.”

“Then I think you see evil where it isn’t.”

“Well then, maybe with two sets of eyes, we can judge more clearly.”

I allow her comment to hang in the silence long enough for the words to settle in.

Of course, as soon as the realization of what she said widens her violet eyes, I let out a laugh.

She does too, oddly enough.

“You should talk to Kiran,” I say. “I think you might be surprised how much the two of you have in common.”

Lydia rolls her eyes. “I’m not sure that’s something I would like to discover about myself,” she says, but underneath the derision, I can hear the fear in her voice.

“He won’t hate you for telling him.”

“And how can you know that?”

“Because I won’t let him.”

Lydia laughs again, but this time, it actually meets her eyes.

But as quickly as it appears, it’s gone when Marcus comes barreling out of his tent to meet us.

Lydia and I exchange concerned looks, then run toward him, closing the distance to keep him from exhausting himself.

“It’s Piper,” he cries, each breath a wheeze as we meet him in the center of the field. “I just got a message from Piper.”

“How is that possible?” asks Lydia, but Marcus pulls on the collar of his tunic, exposing his chest.

I’ve noticed Marcus’s tattoos before, the typical vines and thorns that Aveleans get upon entering maturity, a time marked by profound loss.

But this tattoo is different. It looks to be the roofscape of a village, but the lines have been twisted, curled into a script that’s somewhat shaky, but still legible.

She’s taking me to Mystral, says the script.

“It could be a trap, a diversion,” says Lydia, but Marcus shakes his head, grinding his teeth as he fights off a spasm.

“It’s Piper’s handwriting.”

“The queen could be threatening her,” I offer.

“No. Piper doesn’t bend to threats,” he says, and his voice is so resolute, I can’t help but believe him.

Lydia strokes the hilt of her blade. “This makes no sense. Why take Piper to Mystral?”

Her gaze snaps to the side as Blaise rushes out of Ellie and Evander’s tent, tears streaming down her face.

My heart plummets at the realization of what Blaise must have just discovered.

“I need to talk to Blaise,” Lydia says. “Figure out what’s in Mystral that the queen needs Piper for.” She makes to run for Blaise when Marcus’s breathing catches my attention.

“We’ll need to leave as soon as possible,” he says, and I nod, my heart breaking at the pain on his face.

“Right, I’ll help you pack.” I start toward his and Amity’s tent.

I get there before he does, and when I do, Amity jolts up from her cot.

“What are you doing?” She stares at me as I start throwing her things into bags.

“You need to help me pack. Abra is taking Piper to Mystral, not to the Rip. Piper just sent Marcus a message.”

Amity goes still, rather than helping. “We’re turning around?”

I catch my breath, looking up at the child for the first time. She’s shaking, large coins of water dripping from her eyes.

Marcus comes stumbling into the tent, nods at me in thanks, but before he can do much else Amity starts weeping.

“No. We can’t go. We can’t turn around,” she says, her small voice, usually so calm, choked with panic.

Marcus goes still, then kneels in front of his daughter, holding her hands. “Your mother is in Mystral, Amity. She needs us to help her.”