Reubinon Palace, Pellarmus.
Four days after the attack.

Whatever was in the tonic Annalise had given me was strong, because I could barely keep my eyes open as I ate the toast and broth that was delivered to my room. Once my stomach was full, I slept deeply for almost another full day. The next time I really woke up, I was done being in bed. Walking was still a painful, slow thing; but mentally, I was ready to join the fight again.

Cohen was still unconscious—his body struggling to heal against the three bullets he'd taken. When I woke up on the evening of the fourth day and announced that I was going to see him—to see Nadia and speak to Darragh—Annalise didn't argue.

I could tell she wanted to though.

She was endlessly patient with me and helped me to bathe and dress—all the while holding back her protests and disagreement. I could see it on her face even without her speaking. She worried for me. Worried I might be overdoing it. I'd seen that same worried expression on my mother's face countless times throughout my life, sometimes directed at me, sometimes directed at my brothers'.

I ignored Annalise's worry just as I had always tried to ignore my mama's.

When I emerged from the bathing room, my hair dripping and my clothes still slightly twisted in places, Isla was perched in Heidi's abandoned armchair. She turned to face me, her brown skin warming further as she saw the silently resigned look on Annalise's face.

The two girls exchanged a knowing look as the princess got to her feet and took up a place on my other side. Despite my desire to appear strong and capable, I leaned heavily into Isla. The skin and muscles in my side strained and cried out at every step, the stitches pulling painfully.

The princess of Pellarmus smelled like clove cigarettes and brandy; and as she maneuvered me around the chair and onto the foot of the bed, I felt the press of the small, cigarette box in her dress pocket. I did my best to hide a smile.

"Been out for a smoke, Isla?" I asked, keeping my voice low enough that Annalise wouldn't hear as she went in search of my boots.

Isla made a face, "Don't act so smug. We all have bad habits. Mine is smoking, yours, it seems, is being a nuisance."

"Being a nuisance?" I said, feigning offense.

She nodded, her accent thick as honey as she mutter, "You heard me."

Her sour expression softened as she watched Annalise shuffle through the large armoire. The healer's blonde hair was pulled into a messy bun at the top of her head today. Stray pieces of it fell across her flushed cheeks and curled in wayward strands down her back. The white apron of her uniform hugged the curve of her hips and accentuated her feminine build.

She was beautiful.

And I could tell that Isla saw it too.

As Annalise stood up and turned to face us, I noted the way her eyes went to Isla before they moved to me. There was a strength to that look—an intentionality behind it that had Isla straightening slightly. The shy smile on the princess's face made it clear that they'd been introduced before—and were clearly well enough acquainted that Isla felt bold enough to say, "I thought you'd agreed to let Monroe die if I increased your pay?"

My mouth fell open. "Hey!"

Isla laughed loudly but Annalise only shook her head. She crouched in front of me and made quick work of lacing my boots for me. When she stood up, she gave Isla's shoulder a firm shove. The princess caught her wrist and pulled her forward, nearly onto her lap. For a moment, Annalise's expression faltered and grew serious. Their closeness, the proximity of their bodies—the look on Isla's face...

So, they were more than acquainted then.

Isla's hand wrapped around Annalise's waist like she might pull her closer, but before she could, the healer's expression broke—turning from charmed to frustrated in a split second. Annalise stood up, backing a step away from Isla. Isla's body language wasn't necessarily dejected—instead, she seemed as if she'd expected nothing less. Her eyes darted to me, none of Annalise's embarrassment tainting her features as she gave me a small shrug.

I glanced between the two of them.

Annalise wasn't looking at me, her attention was on her apron as she tugged it nervously back into place. Nimble fingers brushed white-blonde strands of hair back from her face. Annalise took a steadying breath.

Isla watched each movement with a quiet sort of longing I recognized.

A longing I felt for Kai.

And they were holding back, Annalise was holding back, because of me. Because clearly whatever was between them wasn't something that was public.

My voice was quiet as I said, "It's alright. I won't—If the two of you are—It doesn't matter to me— I just..." I hated the way I stumbled over my words, but I didn't want to imply anything that they might not want spoken aloud. Annalise seemed so uncomfortable with my presence, that if I could have gotten up and walked out of the room on my own, I would have.

Isla opened her mouth to speak, but Annalise cut her off. "It isn't—We aren't—" she pressed her lips into a thin line and fisted her hands in the folds of her dress, her light brown eyes cutting as blades as she turned them on Isla.

"It's really alright," I assured her.

I glanced between the two of them. Isla looked ready to wage a war and Annalise—Annalise just looked profoundly sad. I swallowed and pressed my palms flat to the mattress, prepared to crawl from the room in an effort to avoid whatever was about to take place here.

Bad. This, the tension between them, it was bad.

I shouldn't be here.

"I—I'm sorry," I said, not entirely sure what I was apologizing for. I didn't know if Annalise was upset because Isla had touched her like that or if she was upset that she'd done so in front of me. Same-sex relationships weren't necessarily uncommon in Erydia, but like most things in my country, they weren't sanctioned by the temple. This, of course, meant nothing to me. I didn't give two shits what the temple approved of. But the temple was law to most Erydians and while Isla may not assume anything about me, it was clear that Annalise believed I would disapprove.

The truth was that I didn't care who Isla loved. And, by the look of frustration and hurt on the princess's face, I could tell that she did really care about Annalise. The chemistry between the two of them—although timid and intentionally suppressed, was still noticeable. And, despite Annalise's anger, I think the healer might have cared for Isla too.

I opened my mouth to assure them again that I didn't care, but stopped.

I didn't know the beliefs in Pellarmus. I didn't know the laws or the expectations. I didn't know what dangers might lie in a country like this. And I had no right to push Isla or Annalise to feel anything or to admit to those feelings in front of me. If Annalise didn't feel safe, didn't feel like Isla should touch her intimately with me around, then I wouldn't push it.

Difficult. This was something I didn't exactly know how to navigate. The urge to leave the room and give them privacy was strong enough to get me moving. I pressed my hands to the mattress, prepared to stand up, but Isla grabbed my arm gently, keeping me seated.

"It's okay," she said.

"It isn't," Annalise ground out. She was looking at Isla with so much passion—so much hurt—that I knew there was far more to this than what I'd just seen.

Isla glanced at me and then back to Annalise. "We can talk about this lat—"

Annalise stepped forward, her voice lowered to nearly imperceptible as she said, "If Darragh saw—"

Isla shook her head and reached out a hand for Annalise but the healer stepped out of reach. Isla pursed her lips and said, "He's in a meeting—"

"With your prince?" She spat the words like they were poisonous, like they burned coming out.

For a moment, neither of them spoke—they just held gazes. A challenge between the two of them. After a long, long stretch of deep, dark silence, Isla said, "He isn't my prince. He isn't anything to me."

The words hung between them, suspended.

Annalise chewed her bottom lip and wrapped her arms around herself. At first, I thought she might yell or rage, but then that hardness in her face was gone and she seemed to crumble. Silver lined her eyes, the tears welling so quickly she couldn't turn away fast enough for us to miss them. Isla darted forward, a hand outstretched, but then stopped—her fingers inches from Annalise's arm.

The healer exhaled a sharp, frustrated breath and swiped at her eyes. Her voice was pained as she said, "But he will be something to you."

Goddess. I'd take a bullet again. I'd drink an entire gallon of that damn tonic if it would get me out of the middle of this. I was intruding. I was witnessing something I wasn't meant to see.

Isla seemed to realize it too because she said, her voice firm but incredibly gentle, "We'll talk about that later. When we're alone." At that, the princess turned to me, stooping slightly as she caught me under the arm. I was reminded of her past as a warrior—a skilled Pellarmi soldier—as she pulled me up onto my feet.

She helped me towards the door, abandoning me against the frame of it as she walked to where Annalise still stood, her gaze locked on the darkening sky outside the closed balcony doors. Isla said something to her in Pellarsh and she nodded in response. Then the princess was back at my side, her arm sliding easily under my own as she helped me hobble from the room.

We'd made it only a hall away when I pulled from Isla's grasp and leaned against the wall. I was sweating, the pain so intense I struggled to hide it as I said, "I—Let's rest. Please?"

Isla pursed her lips but didn't argue with me. I slid down the wall and into a seated position on the floor, hissing in pain as I did. My eyes watered with it. I rubbed at the bandage, wishing I had Nadia's ability to heal.

Isla watched me for a moment before she strode down the hall and made quick work of opening four of the windows. When she returned to me, she had her box of cigarettes out. She offered them to me. "Want one?"

I shook my head. "I like fire, not smoke."

She shrugged, "Suit yourself," and tapped the back of the box until one rolled free and into her awaiting palm. She pocketed the box again and then went to work emptying a nearby decorative vase, throwing the fresh flowers and water out on the lawn below—so this was how she found her ashtrays all the time, not just in Erdyia. Lovely.

I bet Darragh was thrilled with that.

Isla's hands shook a bit as she patted the pocket of her dress, looking for a lighter. Before she could find it, I'd lit the cigarette for her. She cursed loudly and nearly dropped it in surprise. She shook her head, glanced my way wearily, and then quickly drew on it a bit until it was burning steady.

When she exhaled, her breath was tinged with smoke.

Her accent was thick and rough, each word gravelly as she said, "Holy shit, Monroe Benson, a little bit of warning next time would be good. You could have caught my whole hand on fire."

"Beggars can't be choosers."

She snorted at that. "Good thing I'm not a beggar then, eh?" She collapsed against the wall across from me but didn't sit.

I met her gaze. "Are you gonna explain any of that to me or am I supposed to guess?"

She pursed her lips. "Annalise is...We're...It's complicated."

Complicated. Yeah, I knew what that was like. I also knew that things often weren't nearly as complicated as they appeared. Usually, it was straight forward—one path. It just wasn't always a path we liked.

I knew I was pushing her as I said, "Do you love her?"

Isla's brows rose and she started to shrug, almost out of habit, but then stopped herself. She inhaled deeply and then exhaled, fiddling with the cigarette before she said, "Yes."

I adjusted my hips, trying to find a more comfortable position on the carpet as I asked, "For how long?"

"A while."

"But your brother doesn't know?"

Isla didn't respond right away. She just stood there, smoking her cigarette, her green eyes distant—lost in a memory I couldn't see. After what felt like its own eternity, she said, "My brother sees nothing except his own plans, his own desires. Everything else is...unimportant."

I thought of what I knew about Isla. She'd wanted to stay in the military but she hadn't been given that option. She'd followed her brother's direction. Instead of doing what she wanted, she'd stepped forward to meet her "other obligations," as she'd once put it. Even though Cohen had said she was probably more deadly than any of us. Even though she'd wanted a different path—even though Isla had wanted to continue to fight.

I meant it as I said, "I'm sorry."

Isla glanced up at me. Her voice was gruff, full of a sort of frustration I understood, as she said, "I'm not asking for your pity. I just..."

"You don't have my pity, Isla. My understanding, yes. My support, certainly. But I wouldn't dare insult you with my pity."

She took a long drag of her cigarette and turned her gaze on me. "He suspects, I think. I—It isn't like I'm super good at hiding it. I don't really want to hide it. I don't try, not like I probably should. So, if he would look, he would probably see. But, Darragh is blind. He sees only what he wants to see. And right now he only has eyes for Britta Warwick and Erydia."

"And Annalise does want to hide it?"

"Annalise does not want to make things more difficult than they already are. She does not want to have her heart broken. And she knows I'll end up hurting her—even if that is the last thing I would ever want to do."

"Why would you hurt her?"

"Because she knows I'll choose him. Darragh—He has always asked things of me and sometimes...sometimes they are not easy things. They are not always things I like or enjoy. But I will choose him. She knows it."

"Then why do them?"

She shrugged and tapped the cigarette against her lips. "He's my brother. My family. And now he is my king." Loyalty. Pure, fierce loyalty shone in her eyes. There was a quiver in her bottom lip as she leaned forward, tapping ash into the vase as she admitted, "But—But Annalise is my friend...more than my friend. And—And I wish I could choose her, just once. Sometimes, sometimes I think maybe I shouldn't love her. Darragh wouldn't like it. He—I'm expected to marry and have heirs. Whatever my future holds, no one will support my desire to be with Annalise. No one will fight for it."

As soon as the words left her mouth, she looked to me, those jade eyes searching my face as if she regretted saying anything at all. I pressed a hand to my side and closed my eyes. My first instinct was to apologize, to reassure her that she could trust me, but I also knew that Isla didn't want any pity from me. She didn't want me to feel sorry for her.

I think maybe she just wanted to be heard.

To be seen.

And that was a feeling I knew all too well.

I sighed heavily. "I am in love with the King of Erydia. He lied to me about who he really was. He let me walk into a trap because he was too afraid to be honest with me. And—And he let his uncle beat me, burn me, for weeks and he—he...he didn't fight back. Or...he didn't fight back the way I wanted him to. And now, now he's sent someone to kill me. I'm hurt because of an edict he signed. An edict that would have me dead before I could ever return home. Return to him."

Don't come back.

The three words rang through me, like a death toll. I opened my eyes and ran the pad of my thumb across the ring I wore. The small stones and intricately carved band seemed to catch the light.

I looked up at Isla, meeting her gaze as I said, "He sent me away. He has made himself the enemy of everyone I care about. He is—He is technically my enemy. But I love him. I love him even though all of my friends hate him. Even though he is to blame for so much of what has happened to me. And they expect me to fight against him. They expect me to stop loving him. But...but I can't. And maybe that makes me weak—"

Her voice was soft as she said, "It does not make you weak."

"What I'm trying to say is: No one is going to fight for my relationship with Kai. Even he has stopped fighting." My throat burned. "He would like nothing more than for me to stay here. But I won't. I—I can't. Fighting for him, for us, is my choice. I don't expect anyone else to stand beside me in that battle. I realize it is not the popular choice. And maybe it's the same for you and Annalise. Well, not exactly the same, but similar. If you love her and she is worth fighting for, then fight. Fight even if you fight alone. Fight even if she's given up."

Isla pursed her lips. "But you did not fight for him in Erydia. He sent you away and you left. Darragh—Darragh told me you didn't even get upset. You didn't even cry. How can you sit there and tell me to fight, when you aren't fighting for the person you love?"

I glanced up at her. "Leaving wasn't my choice. I was drugged and put on that boat. If I had my way, I'd still be there with him. I'd fight with him. For him. And I did get upset. Just not in front of everyone else. I—Isla, I love Kai. I love him desperately. My fight for him hasn't started yet. Not really. Right now, it's all quiet hunger. It's got to be. If I'm loud, if I tell everyone that I still love him, they'll keep me here. My friends will keep me from helping Kai. I know they will. They'll fight me and—and I just want to save him without having to hurt anyone I love."

"If I chose Annalise, I would be shirking my duty. I will hurt Darragh and my country. He needs me to do what he asks. He needs me to deny myself—my wants—and do what is best for Pellarmus. He's doing that. He did that when he married Britta Warwick. He was fond of her, sure...but he married her for the alliance. He married her for the betterment of our nation. I am expected to do the same."

Footsteps sounded down the hall and for a moment it looked like Isla might cry with frustration. She shoved the butt of her cigarette against the shiny exterior of the vase and then dropped it inside. It made a soft, hollow sound as it hit the bottom. She straightened as the footsteps grew louder, heading our way. I reached out a hand to her and she stepped forward, her gaze still on the end of the hallway as she helped me to my feet.

I hissed in pain and had to lean on the wall to steady myself and catch my breath. Good goddess, the wound hurt like hell. Isla frowned at me, but said nothing. I tightened my hold on her as I leaned in, careful to keep my voice quiet as I said, "Isla, if you do decide to fight—it doesn't have to be alone. I'll stand with you." I offered her a small smile. "Remember: powerful women have to stick together."

She swallowed and nodded quickly. Just before the footsteps rounded the corner, she said, "And you won't be alone either, Monroe Benson."

"You swear that?"

Isla gave my hand a firm squeeze and took a step forward, moving to greet her brother as he rounded the corner and headed towards us. "On all the gods," she said to me, her thick accent almost making the Erydi words incoherent. "I swear it on all the gods."

***

Powerful women.

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