He was drunk.

The smell hit me first, an eye-watering blast of spice and spirit. As he staggered toward me, I spotted stains on his skewed clothing and frizz haloing his usually perfect hair. And when he plopped down on the bed beside me, the mattress bounced.

I fought back a hot wave of frustration. Death still leeched the warmth from his father's body. The vile brother who hated him would soon be crowned king. And his long-standing guard sailed toward distant lands. Niako is not in a good place right now. 

And yet, he had chosen to further sabotage himself — just like my father used to do.

Niako turned toward me, his right knee sliding up to brush my left thigh. "I have a secret for you."

I studied the pattern of stones on the wall ahead. "I'm not interested in listening to any drunken confessions."

His voice dropped to a whisper. "Fortunately, I'm not drunk."

I turned to blink at him, reevaluating his appearance. I noticed now that his eyes were perfectly lucid, and the set of his jaw was serious.

"Finny is with Trebalda."

"She's with —" I caught his eye and dropped my voice to match his hushed tone. "How?"

"When Finny met me at the lagoon during the Day of Truth Ceremony, I gagged and bound her — I had to, Toom, because she kicks like a Paksha She Monster — and then Ruck took her on his sailboat up the Barzatuk River."

I forced my hands to relax on my knees. "And you are sure Trebalda took her in?"

"Trebalda may no longer have any love for me, but she would not turn away a ten-year-old in need of protection. But don't take my word for it. Go find out for yourself."

My gaze dropped to the place where my wrist was still chained. "Don't tease me."

"I'm not teasing." Niako reached over and picked up my left hand, pulling it into his lap. I watched, too bewildered to react, as he rotated my hand palm-up and peeled back the fingers. "Here is Rakim." He pointed to the place where my thumb met my palm. "If you travel north along the coast until you reach the Barzatuk River and follow the river upstream to the northern hills of Busk" — he traced up a half-inch and then inward, stopping below my middle finger — "You'll find Trebalda's tribe."

Shivers raced up my arm both from the light touch and the sudden thrill of anticipation. "But how will I get out of here?"

He pressed a copper key into my palm. "For the cuff." And a gold key. "For the door." He folded my fingers over the keys, hiding them from view. "Tonight, blowing horns will announce the start of the Coronation. All of Rakim is required to attend, even the guards, so the streets will empty. After ten minutes, unlock your cuff and slip out the door. Then cut between buildings until you reach the training field, and —"

A cough echoed down the hallway outside the cell, and Niako cut off, eyes darting toward the door. When he resumed speaking, I could barely hear him just inches from my ear. "And run toward the sound of the waves."

I glanced at the door, dragging my lower lip through my teeth with a ffft. "You don't trust Tibo."

"I don't."

"Why?"

"Because he is still here."

The hair on the back of my neck bristled. He has powerful enemies and few allies. And I would be leaving him to fend for himself in a den of treacherous wolves.

Then I realized the absurdity of my own thinking. It was not as though my presence was any comfort to Niako — I had almost killed him that very morning. Besides, Niako was one of those wolves. And yet...

"You could come with me."

"I need to attend the Coronation."

"But after the Coronation —"

"After the Coronation, I will be otherwise occupied."

His voice was stony, leaving no room for argument. I took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds before speaking.

"Why are you doing this, Niako?"

"I made a promise, didn't I?"

Still gripping the keys, I pressed my left fist to my forehead. "I just don't see what's in it for you."

"Then I think you fundamentally misunderstand my character."

"So you claim to be a good man?"

"Not at all. But I am not nearly as sane as you seem to believe I am."

As if to prove his point, Niako snaked up a hand to snatch my left fist from my forehead and drew it to his lips. Then he pressed a slow, deliberate kiss onto my knuckles.

I stared at his lips on my hand, tensing every muscle in an effort to fight back the frightening stirring in my gut. Even in his disheveled state, he was dangerously attractive. Especially when he dropped my hand again, his eyes found mine, and a little smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

I saw the endless night sky in his thickly-lashed eyes once more, but I also saw a well of sadness. My heart skipped a beat, and my fist clenched painfully over the keys.

The smirking, arrogant Niako was easier to hate.

He released my hand and looked away. "I couldn't get you a horse or provisions without raising suspicion, so you'll have to figure everything out as you go. Good luck, Toom... you'll need it." Then he shoved off the bed, lurched toward the door, and rattled the handle.

Outside the door, he cursed at Tibo for tripping him, receiving the good-natured response, "My apologies, Your Highness."

When Niako's stumbling footsteps retreated down the hallway, I let my gaze drop to my hand. The calloused knuckles showed no trace of the kiss, but I still felt the soft warmth of his lips. I turned my hand over and opened my fist. Even though the sharp ridges of the keys pressed against my palm, my breath caught at the glimmer of copper and gold.

I could not divine Niako's endgame in all of this. Still, I had nothing to lose. So I curled my fingers over the keys and waited.

As the hours passed, I peeked at the keys and then snapped my left fist shut numerous times. The cuff over my right wrist chafed more than ever, and I fought the urge to fidget. When the sunlight began to fade, I started to worry I had somehow missed the blowing horns. 

Then the haunting blare reverberated in my ears, halfway between a dying cow and a shrieking bird. After a few minutes, the horns gave way to the muffled thrum of chattering voices and jumbled footsteps. And five minutes later, silence.

I pinched the copper key between two fingers and wedged it into the keyhole on my handcuff. With one tiny twist, the cuff dropped away, flumping down on the mattress with a soft toof. I gazed at the cuff for a moment, marveling at how something so innocuous could have held such power over me. My hand reached out of its own accord, tracing the cold metal circle. Owning it.

Then I slid off the bed and strode toward the door.

The door opened just as easily as the cuff. My footsteps echoed down the barren corridor. As I stepped out onto the empty road, the complete silence contrasted eerily with the recent blowing horns and shuffling feet. The gravel crunching beneath my own boots felt deviant — rebellious, even.

I broke into a run. 

Gravel skittered and crackled as I ran, reminiscent of my race back to the Royal Tent during the Day of Truth Ceremony. A dozen skeletal hands raked across my scalp. Slit throats, flowing blood, despondent eyes...

But no — this would be no Day of Truth. This was the start of my redemption.

As I pivoted to the right down an alleyway, my left shoulder glanced off the nearest building. Several more buildings passed me in rapid succession even though I barely felt my feet moving anymore. Then I burst into the open field where Niako and I had clashed blades just that morning.

A ghost flickered before my eyes, illuminated in the first morning light and smiling as though the world still teemed with bright possibility.

Come fight me, Toom.

Instead of scattering light from behind, the sun now sank halfway over the horizon ahead of me. A mirage of pink and orange outlined the cliffs in the distance, plummeting toward the Paksha Sea. A gust of air washed over me like a wave, dousing me in the sulfurous piscine odor I knew well. Right now, it was the smell of freedom.

Then horse hooves trampled the ground behind me.

I lunged a few steps forward and threw myself down into the fighting pit, rolling until my body pressed against the wall of the first step. My heart attacked my ribs like pickaxes in a mine as the scent of iron-rich soil filled my nostrils.

Based on the patter of hooves, the horses had broken into a trot. They slowed to a halt alarmingly close to the base of the pit where I hid. I slid shaky palms together and touched my fingers to my heart in a silent prayer. But Goddess Rashika was apparently otherwise engaged, since the voice that broke the silence was the one I wanted to hear least.

"My dear prince, I do hope you will cooperate in a timely manner. You see, I am already late for my own coronation."

I didn't move or breathe. And when a leather saddle creaked and feet punched the ground, even my heart froze solid.

"Do not fear, fallen prince," the voice continued. "I wish you no harm. In truth, I have always seen you as a sort of kindred spirit — the only other person who sees my brother for the vermin he is. As such, I wish to help you on your journey. I simply request that you complete one small, enjoyable task first."

Grass crunched as the feet approached. Seeing no recourse, I rolled up to my feet, climbed from the pit, and trudged toward him. Extravagant jewels and swaths of gold silk drowned the new king's massive figure like heavy coats overburdening a hanger. A new wig adorned his head, glossy black curls spilling over his shoulders.

I stopped ten feet from him and folded my arms over my chest. "What do you want from me, Makash?"

His teeth glimmered in the sunlight, ivory marble with a smear of coal for the missing tooth. "I just need you to kill Niako."

I swallowed, and the ball of saliva slid through my esophagus like a rock. "You are already king. Why bother to take down Niako?"

"Because if I don't take him down, he'll take me down. Did you know he planned to tell everyone at my coronation that I killed my own father? Such a horrific accusation!"

After the Coronation, I will be otherwise occupied.

"How do you know he would do that?" 

"Because that is what he always does — he turns everyone against me. Did you know we have a sister? Trebalda is her name. She is just a year older than me, and in our early childhood, we were inseparable." His smile jerked inward bit-by-bit until he swallowed the gesture altogether. "Then Niako came along, and he convinced her that he was a victim... and that I was a monster. Eventually, the ideas he planted in her head led to her exile.

"But even that wasn't good enough for him, so he tried to turn our parents against me, too. Have you seen that scar on his hand? He did that to himself, but he let everyone believe I had done it."

I trusted Makash even less than Niako, but Makash's indignance rang true, while Niako remained an unfathomable enigma. I am not nearly as sane as you seem to believe I am. I wrestled both my heart and my lungs for a few arduous seconds before I was able to speak. 

"Why would he do that to himself?"

"Ha, ha, ha." He smacked his thigh with each burst of imitated laughter. "That's just the way his mind works. He would do anything to destroy me. But now I will destroy him." Then he took a step toward me and raised a palm to indicate my chest. "Or rather, you will."

The skeletal hands now skittered across every part of my body. "Why do you need me to do it? Why not do it yourself?"

His fingers curled back over his palm in a wave before he withdrew his hand with a nod. "Alright. Let me tell you a story. At a Serving Ceremony, a Claimed attempts to attack a prince. The morning the former king is killed, that same Claimed nearly kills the prince at these training grounds. Later in the morning, the new king bids the prince return to the palace to join his family in grieving, and the prince responds by downing a bottle of prak. Finally, the prince locks himself into a cell with his own Claimed instead of attending the Coronation and ends up killed by his own blade."

He sucked a breath in through his teeth and grinned at the sky before continuing. "Now you tell me — who is to blame?"

The rock of saliva that had slid down my throat now wormed its way through my gut. "The Claimed is. And when that Claimed is killed by the guard, a neat bow wraps the package."

He parted his lips with an indignant pop. "No, no, my fallen prince. The Claimed is not to blame — the inept Master is. And when the guard runs to find help, the Claimed flees the cell, steals a horse, and escapes. Of course, the enraged new king sends search parties to find the man who murdered his beloved brother. Unfortunately, the search parties only scour the lands between here and Fooja, while the Claimed has gone an entirely different direction."

My coursing blood pounded in my ears. "And — in this story — where exactly has the Claimed gone?"

"Well, I don't want to spoil the ending. I'll leave that part up to your imagination. Now I am sorry to cut this short, but I do have a crown to acquire. Will you agree to my terms, dear prince?"

He proffered a meaty hand, arm stiff and thumb pointing skyward.

I had nearly killed Niako only twelve hours prior, but this... this felt different. As I stared at his hand, my stomach plunged as though free-falling, and I grasped for anything to slow the descent.

"What happens if I won't?"

Behind Makash, one of the horsemen broke into a staccato chuckle like a stick caught in the spokes of a wheel. Makash swung a glance at the  armed men forming a semi-circle behind him. When his gaze returned to me, he raised his shoulders in an almost apologetic shrug.

"I am hoping you will."