Niako approached the palace door first while I remained standing on the golden steps, cuffed and flanked by Tibo and Ruck. Makari threw the doors open and pulled Niako into a stiff embrace, patting his cheek a bit too sharply to be affectionate.

"Welcome home, Niako," said Makari. "I haven't seen much of you since you decided you'd rather live in the slums than with your own family."

Niako stood rigid until Makari released him. Then he reached a hand up to brush off his cheek and turned back toward the guards.

"Bring in the Claimed," he said.

Makari's dark gaze flicked past Niako to me. His eyes darted to the collar on my neck, and his hands scrunched the material of his frock. Then he smoothed the frock again and looked back at Niako.

"You know guards are not allowed in the palace," said Makari.

Niako gave a tight-lipped smile. "For today, we will consider them guests." Then he beckoned the guards by curling his index finger twice, and they each grabbed one of my arms and pushed me up toward the entrance. Makari frowned, but he stepped aside to allow us to enter.

They escorted me to the family room back behind the dining room. Like ten years prior, stiff armchairs circled the outside of the room, spaced just far enough apart to make conversation difficult. The rug of patched-together exotic animal furs still covered the ground, and the lighting was just as dim as I remembered. But now four chairs were occupied, and a Claimed kneeled on the rug in front of each one.

I recognized the golden-haired woman who had sat to the left of Niako during the Claiming Ceremony. The frilly pink garment she wore enveloped her like a cloud, and her vibrant jewelry flashed with every movement. Her Claimed wore only a pair of gray knickers. While bountiful silk garments and fur wraps spilled over the sides of each Master's chair, it appeared I was the only Claimed who was fully clothed.

Of course, out of all of the Masters present, Makash still managed to stand out. He filled out his entire chair, legs sprawled, chest puffed, and forearms draped over the armrests. The fabric of his shimmering gold frock bulged over his muscles and crotch. Before him, Stro knelt on the ground, sitting back on his heels with his head hung low and shoulders slumped. Naked, hairless, and slathered in glittering copper paint.

Hardly aware of what I was doing, I wrenched my arms free of the guards and spun back toward the dining room. But before I could pass through the doorway, hands grabbed my arms, tighter than before.

"Watch yourself," Tibo growled, digging surprisingly strong bony fingers into my biceps.

As Tibo and Ruck forced me back toward the chairs, Niako's eyes swept up to my chest, but he stopped before meeting my gaze and turned his back on me. Then he stalked forward a couple steps and flopped down into the armchair on the opposite side of the room from Makash.

Makash's stare pinned Niako, and a slow smile spread over his face, broad enough to reveal a missing canine tooth on the bottom. I hoped it was from the Challenge Day competition, and that Finny's hero had done the deed.

He has plenty of other teeth.

Oh, Finny. An avalanche of emotion snowballed toward me, and I quickly forced the thought aside.

"Good thing you've brought your guards, little brother," said Makash. "Your methods for teaching your Claimed have clearly not been successful."

"On the contrary," said Niako, "My Claimed is exactly as I want him to be." His voice was relaxed, but his hands curled tight around the ends of the armrests.

"Ha," said Makash, leaning his head back to roll his eyes at the ceiling.

The guards steered me toward Niako's seat, and then Ruck spoke into my ear.

"Kneel."

I lowered myself down one knee at a time and sank back to my heels, keeping my eyes on Niako. His own eyes were fixed over my shoulder, face utterly expressionless.

"Uncuff him," said Niako.

Leather boots scrunched as one of the guards crouched behind me. Then a key clinked at my back, and the cuffs dropped away. As I drew my hands in front of myself to rub my wrists, I became aware of the sudden tension in the room. Everyone was waiting to see what I would do now that I was unbound mere feet from Niako.

Everyone except for Niako, of course, who still did not look at me at all.

Makash spoke from behind me. "Now that we are all present, let us commence the ceremony with the kissing of the knuckles."

Motion blurred in my periphery as the Masters on either side of me raised their fists toward their Claimed. Niako's right hand dropped from the armrest to his lap and slowly balled into a fist. Then he jerked it up toward me and gave a quick nod.

Kissing the knuckles. It was just another variation on "Declare me your Master."

But no — this was different. This would be no act of submission. Although I was the one on my knees, I would make Niako feel like he was.

I curled my fingers over his wrist and pulled his hand a few inches toward me. After letting my breath ghost over his knuckles, I pressed my lips to the scar on the back of his hand.

Niako's breathing quickened.

I see your weaknesses, I told him through the gentle graze of my lips. And this time, I will use them against you.

He yanked his hand from my grasp and spread it over the end of the armrest once more.

Then Makash spoke again.

"Servants, bring in the water."

I had not seen any servants, but footsteps plodded on the carpet immediately following Makash's words. An older woman stooped to set a gold-plated basin of water between me and Niako. The water sloshed against the sides of the basin, sending up furls of steam.

"Begin," said Makash. Although my back was turned to him, something in his voice made me feel he was looking directly at me.

Around me, water gurgled as feet submerged. For a moment, Niako remained motionless. Then he leaned forward, slid off his pointed shoes, and folded the bottom of his trousers up over his knees. Picking up his feet one at a time, he dipped them into the hot water.

I grazed one fingertip over his exposed calf. The muscle flexed beneath my touch.

"Niako, it just occurred to me," said Makash, "I never got to hear what name you chose for your first Claimed."

"I haven't chosen a name," said Niako, voice slightly choked.

I dipped my hand into the basin and skimmed it over his knee, watching water trickle down the lightly-haired ebony skin.

"Perhaps you could name him 'Your Highness,'" said Makash. "It seems to fit somehow, doesn't it?"

Breathlessly, Niako said, "Perhaps."

I cupped a hand over Niako's calf and kneaded the muscle. He inhaled sharply, but when I glanced up at his face, his gaze remained impassive and averted.

"Or you could always call him 'Master,'" said Makash. I could hear the grin in his voice. "Someone ought to be saying it, and Goddess knows he's not."

"Makash!" one of the other Masters gasped.

Niako's fingers dug into the armrest, and his chest rose and fell like crashing waves. But when he spoke, he utterly ignored Makash. Instead, he directed his words toward me.

"My feet," said Niako. "Just wash my feet."

"Mm." I dunked my right hand into the basin to rub his feet, but my left hand crawled up over his knee to settle on his thigh.

So quietly even the guards behind me would not hear, Niako said, "What are you doing?"

"Washing your feet, of course." I slid my right hand over one foot in the basin even as my left hand inched a little further up his thigh.

Niako closed his eyes and released a slow, shaky breath. When he opened his eyes, he finally looked at me.

And my hands froze at the intensity of his gaze.

All of the pretense was stripped away, laying bare fear, trepidation, and... desire? Heat licked through me. Unlike the embarrassed, confused heat I had once felt around Niako, this heat was a malicious burn stained red by horrific memories and fiery anger. Still, it somehow felt good. For this moment, I did not belong to him.

He belonged to me.

Then Niako stood abruptly, splashing water over the sides of the basin.

"My feet are feeling exceptionally clean now," he said. "Let's move to the dining room."

When we entered the dining room, Makari was already seated at the head of the table with Astoria on his right. They both smiled as we entered. Makari's gaze dropped when I looked his way, but Astoria's smile just grew brighter.

Makash strode over to drop into the seat on Astoria's right, and Niako sat down on Makari's left. I stared at the back of Niako's head over the backrest. It was a pebble compared to the mountain of wrong piled up over the last weeks, yet my throat constricted at the sight.

That had been my father's seat.

In the center of the table, glistening slabs of steak stretched across long gold platters, and bread rolls heaped high in several gold-painted woven baskets.

"Steak," said the golden-haired woman as she collected the fabric of her dress in front of her so she could sit. The material snagged on her gaudy rings. "Most unusual choice for a Serving Ceremony. Certainly not finger food."

It was only then I noticed the serrated gold knives lying beside the plates. The guards gripped my arms more tightly.

"I do apologize if you are put off by the selection, Hendy," said Astoria. Astoria's sleek dress, simple jewelry, and subtle make-up made Hendy look like a child playing dress-up in contrast. "Makash turned thirty-four just yesterday, so we allowed him to choose."

"How sensible, Your Majesty," said Hendy even as she sniffed in disdain.

The man beside Makash slapped his shoulder and grinned. "Goddess bless your day of birth, Your Highness!" He both looked and sounded as though he had bread rolls stuffed in his cheeks.

"Thank you, Jabir," said Makash. He clapped his hands together twice. "Now when can we start eating? This steak looks delicious."

"Yes, yes," said Makari. "Please begin."

But as Stro stabbed a cut of meat and transferred it to Makash's plate, Makash's eyes locked on me. And when Stro picked up the knife beside Makash's plate and began to carve into the meat, Makash's eyes dipped to the knife beside Niako's plate.

I suddenly heard Niako's voice as he laid beside the lagoon, still drenched and shivering: Makash asked you to push me in?

Then I realized Niako had twisted in his seat, and his dark eyes now studied my face. He no longer looked unsettled — only calculating. He was doing a risk assessment.

I'm not going to kill you, I told him with my eyes.

Yet.

Almost as if he could hear my thoughts, Niako gave me a little nod. Then he addressed the guards.

"Well, he can't serve me with his arms behind his back. Release him."

The thick fingers on my right arm dropped away, but the bony fingers on my left arm remained.

"Your Highness," said Tibo, "Are you quite certain you want —"

Ruck interrupted. "He gave his command. Now follow it."

Tibo let go of me, and I stepped up to the left of Niako's chair, between Niako and Hendy. Niako's fingers twitched over the knife for a moment. Then he lifted it from the table and flipped it in his hand to offer me the hilt. His gaze met mine, and he raised one eyebrow.

"Go ahead," he said. "Take it."

Feet shifted behind me, and Tibo said, "We are watching you, Claimed."

My gaze had been so fixed on Niako's hand holding the knife that I didn't notice Makash watching us until he spoke.

"I don't understand why Niako was allowed to bring guards," Makash said, his voice halfway between a whine and a growl.

"I trust them," said Niako, his eyes still on me. He extended the knife an inch further, and I reached up to close my hand over the hilt. Our skin brushed for just a moment before he dropped his hand to his lap.

"The former king trusted his guards," said Makash. He twisted toward Stro, who paused in the middle of bringing another forkful of meat to Makash's mouth. Makash smiled. "And then one betrayed him."

I stared at Stro, knife forgotten in my hand. Betrayed him? I didn't realize I had made any noise until heads around the room jerked toward me.

"Stro," I said, my soft voice more a plea than anything.

Tell me it's not true.

Stro's gaze remained downcast.

"I'm afraid Stro is not here," said Makash. "This is Copper."

Makari's fork and knife clinked against his plate. "Makash, I don't understand why you had to Claim him after he helped us."

Makash shrugged. "I hate traitors." Then he flicked Stro's motionless wrist with a single finger. "Feed me, Copper."

Stro lifted the fork to Makash's mouth once more.

The tip of a shoe brushed my foot. "T — Claimed," said Niako. I turned my eyes back to him, and he nodded at the knife in my hand. "That knife has a purpose."

With my head still reeling from this revelation, I was barely aware of what I was doing as I sliced the steak on Niako's plate. As the tender meat fell apart, red juice squeezed out onto the plate like the blood seeping from the entrance of the Royal Tent. Yuri's blood. Had Stro really betrayed Yuri? Betrayed us all?

I stabbed the slice with a fork and held it in front of Niako. He leaned forward and closed his lips around it. Again, a little heat sparked inside of me. I wouldn't hurt him right now because I would lose my chance to find Finny, but we both knew how easily I could do it if I wanted to. All he could do was eat the food I gave him and hope he had calculated correctly. The knowledge gave me a heady rush.

Now you are mine.

As he chewed, I cut off another piece.

Jabir turned toward Makash. "Your Highness, at thirty-four, you must be looking for a spouse? A future queen!"

Makash chewed and swallowed before answering. "Yes, that's correct."

Jabir's smile pushed out his cheeks and scrunched his eyes. "You know, my daughter has plenty of exposure to the Claimed, so she certainly would not object to a husband who enjoyed such proclivities."

"Jabir," said Astoria, "If my memory serves me, your daughter must be fifteen years old."

"Yes, Your Majesty. Your memory is quite keen."

"Ah," said Astoria. Her face betrayed nothing of her thoughts, but her perfectly manicured nails tapped on the table. "A generous offer, to be sure. But Makash will choose a bride from Kalasiki. Since Rakim owes this victory to Kalasiki, I can't imagine anyone will protest. Without Kalasiki, Makari would still be a powerless Chief."

At her side, Makari frowned. "Not powerless. I have always ruled over the people of Rakim."

Astoria's fingers tensed against the table, nails clawing the marble with an audible scritch. "Yes, dear. You did such a marvelous job placating the Blessed Pair with promises of peace and begging Karoo for a seat on the Royal Council."

Makari cupped one hand over the other, his grip too tightly. "Politics is a complicated game, my dear. Sometimes, one must play a role that does not come naturally."

Her lips jerked into a smile as though hooks had pierced the sides of her mouth and yanked them upward. "A real actor, you are. Why, if I didn't know better, I would have thought you feared a pair of old crones and respected a worthless buffoon of a king."

My knife broke through the steak and scritched against the plate, loudly enough to draw eyes and a few winces. Makari's gaze met mine for the first time that night and stuck there a moment before flitting away.

He cleared his throat. "Well, I didn't... I certainly wasn't..."

"Let's move on to more important matters," said Astoria. "Makari sent a messenger to Fooja requesting their surrender before the Day of Blessings three weeks from now."

"If I may ask," said the man at the end of the table, wispy whiskers twitching, "Isn't that too late? Your Majesty, shouldn't Kalasiki and Rakim forces march on Fooja before Fooja has a chance to attack?"

Makari shook his head. "Oh, I don't think —"

"I do apologize for my lack of clarity," said Ragalor. "I was addressing the Queen. You see, in Kalasiki, we give women proper respect." He reached out to pinch the arm of the half-naked Claimed woman beside him. "Did I tell you to stop? Keep feeding me."

"Yes, Master," she whispered as she grabbed a bread roll from one of the baskets.

I grabbed a bread roll, too. When I tore off a piece, the heat rising from the fluffy inside reminded me of the bread roll I had once stuffed into my pocket at this very table. I offered the bread to Niako. He leaned forward and attempted to gingerly pluck it from my fingers with his teeth, but I moved my hand in closer to brush his lips.

Niako sat back hard enough the legs clacked against the floor.

Five seconds passed before he began to chew.

"I agree it would be far better for Rakim and Kalasiki to attack sooner," said Astoria. "We don't want to risk Fooja securing any alliances."

Makari snorted. "Kulas, Busk, and Bund will all declare loyalty to Rakim. When they do, Fooja will surrender without a war."

Hendy said, "Fooja would surrender much more easily if they knew the king's heirs were dead."

Silence followed. I dropped the bread roll, and it rolled to the edge of the table and then dropped to the ground, landing with a soft plop that seemed to echo in the room. Still, no one would look my way.

Makash broke the silence. "Niako, whatever did happen to the princess? No body found. No screams. People become suspicious, you know."

Niako's voice was calm. "Oh, yes. That's because she trusted me. I just told her I was planning a surprise for Toom, and I asked her to sneak out and meet me by the lagoon during the Day of Truth Ceremony. So she did."

My lungs emptied of air so quickly I became dizzy, and I had to grab the back of Niako's chair to keep my balance. 

You'll remember the plan, right?

"Oh?" said Makash. He looked at my hand on the chair and then back at Niako's face, and his eyes gleamed. "And then what, Niako? Then what did you do to her?"

"And then I made it fast," said Niako.

Makash leaned forward, propping an elbow on the table. "Made what fast?"

My chest burned, but still I did not breathe. The voices sounded distant to my ears — tinny — as I imagined Finny's bright gray eyes looking up at Niako beside the lagoon. 

I really think you should trust Niako. He's nice.

"I strangled her," said Niako. "And then I dumped her body into the Paksha Sea."

My body processed before my mind could.

I seized the steak knife.