Makash leaned against the side of the door to the cell, watching us with a smile. "I was halfway to the Coupling when I realized I forgot something. What luck that I came back!" He bellowed a laugh that shook me to my core.

Makash rounded on Niako, who stumbled back until his shoulders thumped the wall. "Dear little brother, how much trouble you cause. This time, I am afraid you have gone too far."

"Makash, I didn't—"

Makash shot out a hand, and Niako cut off with a flinch, but the hand only hit the wall beside Niako's head. His smile broadened. "Keys, please."

I wasn't sure how a voice could simultaneously be so pleasant and so chilling.

Niako reached a fumbling hand into his pocket and held up the keychain, eyes downcast.

Makash flipped through the keys, looping them over the chain one at a time until he reached the lone gleam of silver. "Ah, here it is. It's been a while, hasn't it? You must have forgotten your last lesson. Don't worry—I'm a patient teacher." His smile grew still larger, distorting his face into something that was no longer pleasant at all.

Niako whimpered, sounding more like a kicked dog than the arrogant boy I knew.

Guilt stabbed through my chest. I drew myself to my feet and took one shaky step toward Makash. "This was my idea."

Makash looked over his shoulder at me, and his smile softened. "Forgive me, Your Highness, but I am puzzled. How did you know where to find the keys?" He jangled the keychain softly.

I blinked at the keys. "I forced Niako to help me."

Makash frowned. "Forced him? Then where is your knife?"

"I..." I shot a glance at Niako, who shook his head, not meeting my eyes. "I don't have a knife, but it was my fault."

"No, no, Your Highness," he said gently. "A prince is never at fault." Then he turned back to Niako. "Well, little brother, Trebalda is not here to protect you anymore. I hope you are ready to beg."

"Toom, get out of here," said Niako, voice very quiet.

Makash's fingers curled lazily around Niako's neck. "That's not how you speak to your prince. If Prince Toom wants to come watch, he is more than welcome."

Come watch? My gut did a nasty flip. "Wait, I don't—"

"I said get out!" This time, Niako's voice was razor sharp.

With one more desperate glance at Niako and at Copper, I ducked my head and staggered out of the room.

Each room appeared even more ghastly in light of what I had just seen, and it was all I could do to keep from shaking. When I finally reached the first family room we had entered, I stopped for a moment, grasping the back of one of the stiff armchairs as I drew in a few shaky breaths. Then I pushed through the doorway.

The six adults still seated at the table looked up to see me, though the Claimed kept their eyes down. "Toom," said my father, voice as stiff as his shoulders. "What good timing. We were just finishing up." He looked behind me and frowned. "Where is Niako?"

"He is with Makash." I could hear the tremor in my own voice, and I waited for someone to ask me more questions. No one did.

"Go wait outside with Yuri and Stro. I'll be out in just a minute."

I scanned the bland, forced smiles around the room. Astoria was the only one who appeared at ease, elbow propped on the table and chalice dangling from her hand.

Though Niako shared nearly all of her features, she suddenly resembled Makash.

"Toom?" said my father, and I realized I was frozen in place, breathing hard.

"Yes. Come soon, Father." And I scuttled toward the archway entrance to the room.

Statues of Rashika flashed by me in a golden blur as I hurried toward the main entrance. I didn't stop until I had shoved the heavy doors open and breathed fresh air.

I found Stro engaged in conversation with the same female guard from earlier. Yuri sat beside him whittling a stick which he quickly dropped upon seeing me. Both looked up at me as I approached, and then their gazes traveled to the doorway behind me.

"My father is coming in a few minutes," I said.

I was sure they would notice the breathlessness in my voice—the pounding of my heart—but they only nodded. Yuri picked up the stick and resumed whittling.

Ruck leaned against the same pillar where he had been reading earlier. Unlike the others, he didn't even look at me. He gazed at the moon through the trees ahead.

I stepped toward him hesitantly. "Ruck... may I speak to you?"

"You don't need permission, Prince," he said, eyes still on the sky ahead.

"Listen, I think Niako is in trouble. Can you go into the palace and—"

"Guards are not allowed inside the palace."

I drew in a shaky breath. "I know, but I think Makash is going to... I don't know what he is going to do. But I am afraid he will hurt Niako."

He blinked, and I thought his swollen eyes closed for a moment longer than usual, though it was hard to tell in the dark. Then he lifted his head slightly to examine the Three-Legged Lion constellation of stars overhead.

"Can't you do something?" I said. "You are Niako's guard, aren't you?"

"I may be assigned to Niako, but I report to Makash. Niako is not old enough to supervise a guard."

"Why would Makash supervise Niako's guard?"

"I suppose he offered to take on the extra responsibility until Niako is grown. I find it best not to ask questions."

He looked at me as he said the last part, and I heard the rebuke. Feeling frustrated and defensive, I hit him with the cruelest response I could devise. "You are not a good guard."

He shrugged and returned his attention to the night sky.

The palace doors reopened, and my father strode out. His gaze found mine, and he trotted toward me with such steel in his eyes that I almost flinched.

Behind him, a voice called out, "Please think on it, your Majesty."

My father closed his hands into fists and clenched his jaw. "I have already given it all the thought it requires."

"I do not wish to disrespect your decision, but I must ask that you consider once again," Makari said, his voice as smooth as silk. "I would hate to see you make a decision you would one day regret."

I searched my father's shadowed face for the subject of conversation. Without looking at me, he gave a slight shake of his head. "We leave now, Toom."

We walked in silence, Stro and Yuri flanking us a few feet behind. I glanced toward my father every few seconds, but he kept his focus on the path ahead. Every line of his body strained with tension.

"What happened, Father?" I finally ventured to ask.

My father turned his head down to look at me, but his jaw remained clenched and eyes hard. "He made a request I cannot fulfill. He requested a seat on the Royal Council, but all seven seats are occupied. And anyway, the memory of the Rakim regime's cruelty is too recent for Najila's people to support any power given to them on the national level."

"And how did Chief Makari respond when you refused?"

He barked a bitter laugh. "Oh, he continued to treat me with faultless respect. That is what worries me. Beware of those who respect you only for your title, Toom. They will be the first to turn."

I swallowed. "I'm scared, Father. I want to go back to Fooja. I want Mother."

His eyes softened, and he reached up to squeeze my shoulder. "To be honest, I feel the same way. But a king cannot run from that which he fears."

"Then it must be very hard to be king."

I waited to hear his usual lecture on how honored we should feel to have the opportunity to rule this beautiful nation. Instead, he gave a sad smile. 

"Sometimes."

I studied the path just ahead of my feet for a minute before I found the courage to voice my fear. "Father... was Mother a whore?"

My father took a sharp breath. "You heard that from Niako?"

My throat tightened. "So... so that's a yes."

His shoulders slackened, and he sighed. "Your mother did what she had to do to support her family, Toom."

"And I suppose you were out supporting your family when you met her?"

"Well, I... no. I was not. But your mother and I love each other very much. What does it matter what happened before we met?"

Philandering prince.

I shook my head, feeling nauseous. "I can't believe you lied to me all this time."

"No, Toom. I had hoped to withhold certain parts of the story until you were old enough to understand. But I didn't lie to you."

"You said it was her bright and unbreakable spirit that caught your attention."

My father frowned. "And it was. I was so intrigued by her that I just wanted to hear her talk. That first night, we didn't even—look, I don't need to tell you any of this. Toom, you know your mother. And this doesn't change anything about who she is."

I thought of my mother's gentle fingers tracing over my back as I fell asleep at night, of her quiet but passionate voice petitioning the Royal Council to empower Fooja's poor, the cinnamon cake crisps she made each holiday, and of she and Aunt Mitzy devolving into fits of giggles like schoolgirls. 

I couldn't be angry with my mother. So I turned to glare at my father.

"And what about you? What about your reputation?"

"Well, I deserved that reputation and any resulting judgment, I suppose. But your mother has changed me, and now I have a new reputation. Everyone knows I will never look at any other woman again."

"Even if the baby doesn't make it?"

His step faltered. "The baby will make it."

"But if it doesn't?"

"When I say never, I mean never," said my father.

* * *

I found Niako the next day leaning back against a tree near the palace steps. The tattered book from the lagoon's ledge was propped open at his knees, which for some reason gave me a sense of satisfaction. You did want it back. 

But when I started toward him, his eyes met mine for only a millisecond before flicking away. He pushed to his feet, tucked the book under his armpit, and trudged toward the palace.

I tried to ignore a prick of pain. I should have been happy he wanted to ignore me. He had already told me we were not friends, so what good could come from talking to him?

Then I noticed he was limping.

I jogged forward to cut off his path. "What happened last night? Are you alright?"

"Stay away from me," he said, voice barely audible.

I blocked his attempt to sidestep me. "Niako, I'm sorry I got you into trouble. I didn't realize—"

He punched me in the face.

He struck like a viper, blurred fist followed by shooting pain. I careened to the side with a yelp, clutching the left side of my face. Tears squeezed through shut eyes and trickled down my bruised cheekbone. I opened and shut my jaw once and touched my nose to ensure nothing was broken.

When I forced my eyes open, Stro had trapped Niako on the ground with a knee in his gut and a hand over his throat. Niako tugged at the burly guard's fingers, wheezing.

"You little bastard," said Stro. There was no hint of pleasantness in his face or voice now. "How dare you strike the prince."

Stro's grip tightened, and Niako stopped breathing. I found my own breath cutting short, and I staggered a few steps toward them.

Ruck beat me there. He loomed over Stro and Niako, his bulky form shadowing them both. "That's enough. Let him go."

As soon as Stro released him, Ruck grabbed Niako's arms. He slung the gasping boy over his shoulder and tromped toward the palace.

"The king will hear about this!" Stro called after him.

Ruck grunted an ambivalent response without looking back as he climbed the palace steps. He wrenched the door open and disappeared inside.

Stro's rough fingers gently prodded the side of my face. The pain had reduced to a dull throb, but I still winced under the light pressure. Stro's nostrils flared, and his bright eyes narrowed. "Your Highness, I am terribly sorry. I didn't realize that boy could be dangerous. I should not have allowed him so close to you."

"I'm fine." And then, because he still looked ready to murder someone, I added, "I shouldn't have provoked him."

"Humph." He shook his head and frowned. "You are not to blame, Your Highness. And if that little brat thinks he can get away with this, he is going to be sorely disappointed. Now come. We are going to see what your father has to say about this."

As we walked, I snaked a hand up to my own face discreetly enough not to draw Stro's attention and pressed two fingers to my cheekbone. The swelling was already starting. I had never seen Stro in this grave of a mood, and I didn't dare talk to him. Instead, I focused on what I would tell my father. Perhaps if I explained what had happened with Copper and Makash the night before, he would forgive Niako's attack.

And even though my face and ego both still stung from his punch, I hoped he would be forgiven. I remembered the way he had looked at me after I had pulled him out of the lagoon, both fascinated and perplexed. Toom... are you crying?

Niako... has no one ever cried over you?

But the horror in the Royal Tent incinerated all thoughts of Niako.

My father, King of Najila, sat in the center of the room, knees drawn to his chest and arms encircling his legs. He rocked back and forth, moaning and gasping for air.

I whirled around to stare at Yuri and Stro, who were exchanging hushed whispers at the edge of the room. "Why are you both just standing there? Someone help him!"

Yuri turned toward me, his usually neat black hair clinging to his sweaty neck. "Your Highness, I'm... I'm so sorry."

"Why?" My voice cracked. "What happened?"

"A messenger has just delivered terrible news. You should probably take a seat, Your Highness."

My eyes darted to my father. He was still gasping, eyes distant and unfocused. Tears glistened on his cheeks and darkened the fabric of his shirt.

"What happened, Father?"

My father did not answer, but Stro hooked an arm around my shoulder and steered me back to a chair at the side of the room. As I sank into the cushion, I grasped his forearm.

"Stro, what happened?"

He tensed and swallowed, glancing over his shoulder at my father. "I'm not sure it's my place to deliver the news."

"What news?" I pushed to my feet again. "Someone please tell me what's going on."

My father turned his head to meet my gaze, but his eyes were cold and empty. "It's your mother, Toom."

An icy chill froze my lungs. "My mother? What happened?"

"She's dead. Lessy is dead."

My hands began shaking, though my mind could not process the words. "What do you mean? She was just fine before we left. How... how could..."

"The baby came early," he said, voice broken and strangled. "And she died in childbirth."

My stomach plummeted like tumbling down a never-ending staircase, and saliva flooded the back of my mouth. "No. It's not possible. There must be some mistake."

"The only mistake is mine," he whispered. "I pressured her to try again and again for a baby, even though she was past her prime. It's all my fault she is gone. I killed her."

The finality in his voice cut my last string of composure. The world blurred and tipped sideways. When the back of my knees smacked the chair behind me, I collapsed onto the seat.

My head rolled to my shoulder, and sobs overtook me, tears and snot streaming. My father rocked on the ground, shuddering cries racking his shoulders and white fingers clutching his shins.

Minutes passed before Yuri shifted his feet and cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, should I call for your carriage?"

My father turned glistening red eyes to Yuri. "Yes. We must prepare for the funeral."

"And the Blessed Pair?"

"Tell them I send my apologies."

"And the baby girl?"

Girl. My chest swelled painfully. I had a sister.

My father swallowed. "We'll find a good home for her, of course. Tell the messenger to take the baby away to a—"

"No," I said, and I was startled by the fierceness in my own voice. The heads of the men in the room all turned to look at me. "The baby stays with us."

My father sucked in a ragged breath, and fresh tears shone in his eyes. "Toom, I told you I can't—"

"I'll do it. I'll take care of her."

He laughed, a soft chuffing sound halfway to a sob. "You are only twelve years old, son."

"Old enough to begin taking on responsibility," I said. "I'm ready, Father."