Minutes later, I rode a sturdy appaloosa mare down the gravel road, flanked by ten members of the new Royal Guard. Upon Makash's departure, the guards had sifted through the horse's saddlebags to reveal their contents to me. Canteens of water. Cloth sacks filled with pickled meat, nuts, and dried fruit. Ample rope to tie up the food and tether the horse. Flint, steel, and kindle. Everything I needed to escape Rakim.

Provided the guards would allow my escape.

The horsemen studied our surroundings with hardly a glance my way, almost as though ensuring my safety rather than my compliance. When we reached the palace and dismounted, Tibo strolled down the golden steps to greet me with a broad wave and a bright smile. The new badge on his vest glittered in the fading sunlight with bold letters legible even from twenty feet away.

Head of the Royal Guard.

Wrongness tugged at my skin like a million tiny hooks. "Head Guard at such a young age, Tibo? You must have done something very impressive."

"Well, King Makash initially offered the position to Ruck, but Ruck declined. It caused a bit of drama, actually. Refusing His Royal Majesty is terribly unwise, I'm sure you'd agree."

"To be honest, I'm not sure acquiescing is any better."

His smile faltered, and he tossed his head to flip the mop of hair out of his eyes. "If you are concerned about the King keeping his promise, worry not. We have orders not to harm the fallen prince."

"Well, forgive me if I find it difficult to trust you."

He glanced at the guards behind me and licked his lips. Then he said, "Follow me."

I hooked a hand through the reins of my horse, leading her toward the wooded area at the side of the palace. A few guards mumbled protests from behind, but I waved them off with the flick of my hand without even turning back. I would take every advantage I could while they still needed me.

Returning to the palace's entrance, I followed Tibo up the front steps. As I passed through the doors, I remembered crossing that threshold as a guest and then as a Claimed.

Now I entered as a killer.

Come fight me, Toom.

After I had almost killed Niako that morning, he had sagged against the cell door, succumbing to gravity. Was that how he would look when my blade stole his last breath?

The doors swung shut behind me with a thud, and I pushed the image aside.

The sharp angles of the Goddess Rashika statues lining the hallway appeared more ominous than ever. In front of the statues, gold three-legged lions crouched, pounced, and prowled, marking the approaching Day of Blessings. Tibo stopped in the middle of the hall and turned to face the statues. He pressed his palms together and tipped his fingers toward a Goddess Rashika statue and back toward his own heart. Then he pointed to the three-legged lion at her side and tilted his head at me.

"Do you know the story of the Three-Legged Lion?"

I didn't bother with a response. All six states celebrated the Day of Blessings each year, and even toddlers knew of the Three-Legged Lion.

He proceeded to tell me, anyway. "Sometime after the Day of Truth, the Fallen Gods rose up from the seven hells to attack Najila. When the battle horn blew, the terrified people of Najila all found a reason to excuse themselves from the fight. Cowering before the Fallen Gods, they prayed Goddess Rashika would send a fierce warrior to save them. So, on the Day of Blessings, Goddess Rashika sent the Three-Legged Lion."

Tibo squatted to stroke the ridged mane of the nearest lion before continuing. "The Najilans felt their prayers had been mocked. But when they saw the Three-Legged Lion on its wobbly legs standing alone against the Fallen Gods, all of their own excuses withered to dust, and every man and woman rose up to join the fight. The Fallen Gods were soon overpowered and fled back to the seven hells, never to return."

"Why are you telling me this now?"

He rose to his feet and took one step toward me, gaze unexpectedly earnest. "Because this is your Day of Blessings. The gift may look like a three-legged lion, but you may follow it to your salvation. Complete this one task, and I swear upon the Goddess Herself that you will escape here tonight."

I shook my head. "Makash has no reason to let me live. He knows Fooja is calling me the true king. As long as I am alive, they are not likely to surrender."

"That is all quite true. But you see, the King does not want Fooja to surrender. He wants war."

An icy chill swept through me, but before I could formulate any response, he tipped his head to beckon me. Tibo started down the hallway once more, leading me through the dining room and family room. As we walked, he spoke to me in the offhand, casual manner of a friend sharing gossip.

"The truth is, Rakim has lost our main source of power. Since we can no longer take gold from a mine, we must take it from our enemies. And if Fooja does not surrender before the Day of Blessings, King Makash will have every right to wage war. Then he will take everything from Fooja. Everything."

"Fooja has no gold."

Tibo flashed me a smile. "But you know, a gold is just a hundred copper."

Then he rounded the corner into a narrow corridor I had never seen before.

Dusty lanterns illuminated off-white walls, yellowed near the floor and ceiling by age. I glanced briefly at the two doors, one at the end of the hallway and another halfway down, before my attention was captured by the cobweb-covered painting hanging on the wall to the right. A myriad of dabbed dots formed a galley slicing through endless waters under the rising sun. Against my will, my mind conjured the image of a thin boy on the ledge of a lagoon escaping reality in the story of an adventure at sea.

A sudden weight pressed down my shoulders — my lungs — my heart. He had set me free. Could I really kill him?

But then, what choice did I have? If I killed Niako, there was a chance I could escape, reunite with Finny, and devise a plan to save the Kingdom. If I didn't kill Niako, the guards would kill us both.

Either way, Niako would die.

Tibo rummaged in his pocket for a moment before pulling out a single silver key. Dread tightened my stomach. During my entire time in Rakim, I had only once seen a silver key. 

Why is that one key different?

It's for a room in a different corridor.

With a small click, the door swung open to a cell painted in shimmering silver. Dim lanterns revealed wet streaks on the floor, and an acrid metallic smell hung in the air. The cell was empty but for a single chair in the corner, occupied by the inscrutable man from whom I had come to expect the unexpected.

Still, I never expected him to look like this.

Niako sat slumped forward, wet hair curling over his forehead. His soggy tunic twisted to the side and clung to his hunched shoulders. On his lap, a coarse rope bound his hands. He dragged his head up to meet my gaze as I entered. For a second, terror and despair flashed past his eyes, and my feet froze in the doorway.

Then he straightened in his seat, and the mask of impassive arrogance took hold once more. "Hello, Toom. Fancy meeting you here."

Beside me, Tibo unsheathed a curved dagger — Ruck's dirk — and pressed the hilt into my hand. My knuckles cracked over the hilt as venom shot through my veins. Here was the same guard who had demonstrated faultless respect and displayed such protectiveness at any sign Niako could be endangered.

Your Highness, you are bleeding, he had said to Niako only that morning.

"You have three hours to take your revenge," he said to me now.

I focused on breathing to avoid derailing my escape by doing something rash — something like slicing the dirk through the neck of the wrong man.

When I didn't respond, Tibo continued.

"Nothing is off-limits. Just make sure he is dead before you leave the room. King Makash does not wish to leave any loose ends." He drew out the s at the end of each of his last words even more than the usual Rakim accent, sounding almost serpentine.

When Tibo's gaze flitted to Niako, his eyebrows ticked together in perhaps a brief expression of guilt. Then he spun on his heel and exited, tugging the door shut behind him.

I heard no lock. Unarmed, restrained, and surrounded by enemies, Niako was clearly not considered a threat.

Yet fear claimed my lungs as I turned to face him.

Even though he was sitting and I was standing, Niako somehow managed to regard me from over his nose. "Three hours?" His voice was cool — excessively so. "That sounds a bit tiresome, don't you agree?"

I gave a grunt that could have been agreement or negation. In reality, it was only an effort to force back my rising nausea. Three hours to take your revenge. The gift should have delighted me, but the thought of carving up his beautiful flesh while he screamed made my stomach roil.

Niako propped one shoulder against the wall beside the chair in a casual, careless gesture. "I recognize that I don't have much bargaining power right now, but I wonder if I could persuade you to skip to the part where you kill me. Perhaps you'd like to hear me beg?"

My chest tightened as I heard Makash's voice from so long ago: I hope you are ready to beg. When I tried to speak, I felt like a chicken bone was stuck in my windpipe. I cleared my throat twice before I forced the words out.

"Just stand up and face me like a man, and I will make it fast."

"Stand up," Niako repeated, clenching his jaw. Then he nodded slowly and rolled up to his feet, stacking vertebrae like a house of cards. As he approached, his jerky gait contrasted sharply with his usual swagger.

And when he tried to stop, his knees buckled beneath him.

I took a quick step forward, but I was not in time to reach Niako, and I wasn't sure what I would have done even if I had been. His bound hands shot forward, briefly slowing his fall before crumpling beneath him, and then his chin smacked the ground. An inhuman guttural moan escaped him as he rolled onto his back. He cut off the sound by biting his lip and clenching his muscles.

Despite it all, his voice remained infuriatingly aloof. "It seems I am unable to grant your request at present. However, the begging offer still stands."

My gut twisted savagely. "You... you are hurt."

"I can't imagine what gave it away."

I swallowed twice before speaking in a feral growl. "What happened? What did they do to you?" 

He sighed and closed his eyes. "If it's alright with you, I'd rather not discuss it."

I thought of the wet hair, shirt, and floor, and the smell of blood and vomit lingering in the room. A sickening surge of cold horror shot through my veins. Makash enjoyed capitalizing on fears, and Niako feared water. If Makash wanted me to kill Niako, did that mean Niako also feared my revenge?

Any remaining determination petered out, leaving me cold and confused. "Niako, I can't..."

"Can't?"

"I can't kill you like this."

His fingers pinched the rope knotting his wrists over his stomach. "Sorry to disappoint, but I don't plan on recovering in the next three hours. I'm afraid you have no choice."

I shook my head even though Niako's eyes were still closed. "No. I'm not going to do it. I'm not going to kill you."

When Niako's eyes reopened and locked on mine, he looked impressively exasperated for someone who could not get off the ground. "Goddess damn you, Toom. Don't be an idiot. Surely you remember everything I have done to you."

"I remember. And I thought I wanted to kill you. But this doesn't feel right."

He snorted a quick breath and shook his head. "Doesn't feel right? It doesn't matter what you feel. Pull yourself together and finish this, or they'll kill you, too."

"And that... bothers you?"

"Yes. It does."

He hissed the words as if to slice them into me. But as soon as he finished speaking, he sucked in a ragged breath and released it all in one gust. Then his whole body deflated as he surrendered himself to the floor.

Before I could stop myself, I dropped into a crouch beside him, the blade slipping from my hand to clatter on the ground. His eyes met mine, and for a few long moments, he held my gaze passively. All fear and anger seemed to have drained from him, leaving only exhaustion and defeat. I was fairly sure he was not even breathing.

Memories flitted past me like leaves in the wind. Niako pinning me behind him when facing the archers. Ordering me to eat. Guiding Tibo's sword away from my throat. Urging me to run away before it all began. All this time, his explanation that he had Claimed me to watch me suffer somehow rang hollow. The truth now felt so obvious I wasn't sure how I had never seen it before.

"That's why you Claimed me."

"You know, you are quite smart about some things, but others..."

I glanced at the door and then grasped the blade again. When the metal scratched the ground, Niako flinched. I frowned at him.

"I'm getting you out of here, Niako. And you will guide me to Trebalda's tribe."

"No. I would only slow you down. If you can't kill me, pretend to do it, and then get out of here fast."

"I don't think you understand. I wasn't asking for your opinion, and I no longer follow your commands."

He began to laugh, a choked wheezing sound that made me fear for his mental state. When the laughter faded, a crooked smile remained.

"Toom... you never followed my commands."

Then I noticed a tiny indentation on his left cheek — the mere suggestion of what might have become a dimple in another life. I fought a sudden urge to brush my thumb over that spot to commit it to memory.

Instead, I lifted his wrists and began to saw through the rope.

Niako's smile vanished, and he shook his head. "Toom, I'm... I can't even walk."

"I'll carry you."

"The guards will stop us."

"I'll kill them."

"They must have only provided one horse."

"She is strong enough to carry us both for a short time."

"Not quickly enough to —"

I clapped my left palm over his mouth as feet stirred on the other side of the door. When I withdrew the hand, I touched my index finger to my lips. Then I rose to my feet and inched toward the door. Gripping the dirk in my right hand, I placed my left over the knob and slowly turned. The door slid open a few inches in silence before it creaked.

Then I thrust the door the rest of the way open.

The door smacked into Tibo, and he stumbled to the floor. As his backside landed, he flung his sword up in front of him and began to yell. But I was already on top of him, whacking his arm aside with my left hand as my right dragged the dirk across his throat.

His yell distorted and then broke as I sliced deep — snapping tendons, severing arteries, ripping through muscle. Blood spurted for a moment before flowing in a stream, pooling out over the floor.

I reached down to unbuckle the belt strapped around his slender waist. As I yanked it out from under him, his body jerked up in an almost lifelike motion before flumping back down into the puddle of blood. My slickened fingers fumbled with the leather as I loosened the belt a few notches. Then I strapped it over my own waist and slid both Ruck's dirk and Tibo's sword into their sheaths at my hips.

As I stepped back into the cell, every one of my nerve endings zapped with electric energy. Unlike with the assassins on the journey to Rakim and the guards in the colosseum, I knew the name of the man whose blood still dripped from my sleeves. I had spoken to him — eaten from his hands, even. Yet somehow, what I said next fit in my chest without any trouble.

"I killed Tibo."

Niako gave a vacant nod.

I crouched down beside Niako to grab him — and stopped. Then I reached out again — and stopped again. As my arms fell back to my sides, I blew out a breath.

"Niako, I can't get you out of here without touching you."

"Well, you seemed eager to touch me before. I'm not sure why it is a problem now."

"Seven hells, Niako. It's a problem because you keep flinching."

His eyebrows drew together, and he swallowed once. "Oh. Yes. I'll work on that."

His effort not to flinch looked suspiciously like one long full-body flinch, but I didn't allow it to stop me this time. I grasped him under both armpits and pulled him up to sitting and then to his feet. When his legs trembled beneath him, his gaze flitted to the floor, and I had the distinct impression he was drowning in humiliation — perhaps more so than ever before in his life. Still, he did not protest when I slung his right arm over my shoulder, looped my left arm around his waist, and half-dragged, half-carried him out the door.

We weaved around Tibo's sprawled body and loped down the corridor. As we reached the end, footsteps and voices rang from the entrance of the palace.

I glanced at Niako's face, inches from my own. "Which way is the secret exit?"

His eyes slid open and shut several times in rapid succession. Then he raised an unsteady hand to point.

I jerked him forward, and he staggered alongside me, leaning heavily into my side. Niako was lighter than I had thought, and I wondered if he had lost weight even in the last few weeks. I found myself fighting the ridiculous desire to grasp his trembling hand in my own and wrap my arms around him.

Now you are mine... and no one else will hurt you anymore.

We stuttered down a stairwell with the awkward movements of a three-legged man. After two more turns, footsteps battered the stairwell behind us like a rainstorm. I tugged Niako tighter to my side, almost lifting him off the ground as we started down a rickety stairwell into the cellar. Overhead, moonlight seeped through the cracks in a trapdoor.

It was then, in the excitement of success close at hand, that I made my mistake.

I missed a step.

Niako slipped from my clutch to tumble down the last three steps.

And the guards burst through the door at the top of the stairwell.