Esmera sat on the dead princess's bed she had taken for herself, her brass plate still warm on her lap as she mindlessly licked curry off her fingers. She hardly tasted it even though she knew it must be as delicious as anything else Belaren had cooked. The maroon curtains were closed in the face of the afternoon sun shining behind it, turning it to blood. They imprisoned Esmera in the shadows with her thoughts, and she liked it that way.

She didn't spend enough time with her thoughts, especially not since arriving in Milatanur. There had always been something else to draw her attention away, some exciting and important mission, some fascinating tale, some enthralling man who had broken down her walls and taken aim at her heart.

If only Esmera had spent more time in the dark silence of her mind, maybe she'd have known better than to rush into this thing with Tauram. Maybe they would still be friends instead of former lovers. Maybe she wouldn't be in this much hopeless agony.

Esmera glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was 1:45 p.m. Less than a quarter of an hour until it was time to attack, assuming Queen Ghallia and her moth would be on time.

The mere thought of the queen gritted Esmera's teeth. And then it passed, leaving her filled with an emptiness. She should've known that she and Tauram were doomed from the start. She should've remembered that, that every flower she had ever touched withered.

Jammas hovered above Esmera's head, anxious as if he sensed her agitation as she stood, set her plate on the dresser, and went to the window. She parted the curtains by a crack to peer out at the hostile outside.

The sun worshipped the angles on Tauram's face as ardently as the fairy lights had the night before, and Esmera hated him for it, that he could be such a beautiful, wicked heartbreaker. He looked away from her curtains as she opened them, but she couldn't deny that his eyes must have been fixed there until he glimpsed her. But why? If he still wanted something from her, it would be in vain because she had nothing more to say to him.

Esmera gazed at him for just a moment before her throat closed and her eyes prickled. She turned away from the window before she crumbled again, rubbing at her eyes to preempt her tears.

Where was Belaren? Esmera refused to step onto that balcony until he was there too. Being alone with Tauram was too hurtful, too dangerous. It had led her to places she should've known not to venture once before, and she couldn't let that happen again.

A brisk knock sounded on the door, the same one that had roused Esmera from the sleep she had cried herself into earlier. She opened it to find Belaren standing outside while Jammas made himself at home in her hair.

Belaren glanced up at the little lark before bringing his eyes to Esmera's. "Have you finished eating? If so, I can take your plate." He held out a hand that was as smooth and well-manicured as if he hadn't spent the last week feeding and serving himself and his two housemates.

Esmera shook her head. "I can take care of it." He had already done too much for her, so much that she could discount his sharp, whip-like tongue.

He had lured her out of misery with his food more than once. He was the reason she hadn't been surviving on grilled cheese and dosa. She was little more than a stranger to him, and he had never once complained about having to cook for her.

"That's really not necessary." Belaren invited himself into the room and plucked Esmera's plate from where it stood on the dresser. He gave Esmera a slanted smile as he strode back to the door and turned to face her. "Your job is to gather yourself to destroy Ruagu so that I can heal my bond with my family and marry Anjarah. Hopefully I'll make up for the ten years I wasn't involved in their lives, and perhaps I'll let you do your own dishes after that."

"So, no pressure then." Despite her gloomy inner weather, Esmera couldn't help but crack a smile.

She had built this confrontation with Ruagu up in her head to be the end-all of her existence, so much so that she hadn't thought about life after it. But Belaren was right. Life would continue once Ruagu was defeated, but only if he was.

Belaren grinned. "My one condition would be that you're not allowed to mess up my kitchen."

Esmera rolled her eyes as she leaned against the doorway. "I knew there was a catch."

"Always." Belaren laughed, smoothing his already impossibly sleek black hair. "I'll see you outside on the balcony. It's almost time for us to march on the palace." As Esmera had a few minutes ago, he looked at the clock.

"See you then." Esmera closed the door as Belaren left. She rested her back against the cool wood, taking a deep breath to calm herself and gathering all the scattered threads of her thoughts before she went to her window and threw the curtains open. She flinched in the face of the bright sunlight. Even Jammas fluttered in protest at its harshness.

Esmera wandered back to her bed, closing her eyes and picturing what would happen when she arrived in Ruagu's throne room. It was a technique she had always found helpful when she knew she was in trouble with Stephan. She had never won one of their fights, it was true, but she had fared better once she started to prepare herself mentally for them.

The king would no doubt grace his throne, casting a cool glare down at his intruders while his ancient fingers gripped his armrests. The yao would surely be there, forming a protective formation around the man who had brought them out of the shadows and into Milatanur's royal court.

Esmera wondered whether any of them would recognise her this many years after they had destroyed her family. She had been a mere infant then, but would they recognise her scent? The fierceness in her eyes that aspired to Yandriya's?

Esmera would have to strike first, quickly, summoning the army as Nuredir instructed her to before Ruagu and his demon lackeys recognised her, before they sensed the doom she spelt for them and tore her apart where she stood.

Esmera's stomach tightened. She was about to face the most terrifying man in the land, but she couldn't let her fear freeze her the way it had so many times before. She couldn't panic and let Ruagu win this, or it was over for her and the rest of Milatanur. The gods would not show any more mercy than they already had.

Esmera had planned for this since the evening she first set foot in Milatanur and received Jilhari's grim mission, so why couldn't she shake the feeling something was going to go wrong?

She steadied herself. Many things in her life hadn't gone to plan, but she had survived them, fought through them. This was one thing that had to work out because it was more than her safety or her dreams at stake.

It was the fate of a kingdom, of thousands of faces Esmera didn't and would probably never know.

Belaren came out on the balcony, smoothing his collar. He was a shimmering spot of vividness as he crossed to Tauram who was leaning back on the rail. The prince peeled his eyes away from Esmera's window as his friend reached his side.

Esmera steeled her nerves. It was time.

She opened the door leading to the balcony and walked out. The sun burned through the deep purple fabric of her kurta suruwal, singeing her skin. Jammas rested on her head for only two steps before he fluttered down to greet Lundas. The clouded leopard greeted his new friend with a purr.

Esmera couldn't help but shake her head. Jammas had been loyal to her for 5 years, visiting her with little gifts, making her feel loved and remembered in a way nobody in Arkōsāra had, only to betray her now.

Esmera and Tauram's eyes collided only to dart apart at contact. She hated how the brief meeting of their gazes sped up her heart. She despised how badly she wanted to run to him and apologise and let him hold her and tell her that he wanted to work things out, but instead, she remained where she was.

"I'm returning to Arkōsāra as soon as this is over." Esmera blinked. She hadn't even realised that she had made that decision until she found herself announcing it.

Belaren raised his eyebrows, looking between Esmera and Tauram but wisely remaining out of their conversation this time.

Tauram merely folded his arms over his chest, fixing his gaze on the glass doors that reflected Esmera at him rather than on her. "If that's what you truly want, Esmera, I won't stop you."

His words were somehow like a punch to the gut. Esmera didn't know what she had expected. For Tauram to beg her to reconsider? To tell her that he loved her? To give her something to stay in Milatanur for when her family was dead and her familiar would follow her wherever she went?

But he didn't do any of that. He had been honest with her about where they stood for the first time since they met. She appreciated it even as it hurt her like a barrage of kicks to the aching ribs that contained her breaking heart.

"Fine." Esmera flattened her mouth, looking away from the infuriatingly beautiful man who had left the shards of his betrayal in her chest.

"Fine." Tauram remained as he was, more indifferent than Esmera had ever seen him.

A day ago, such a response from him would've seemed implausible, even impossible, but today, it was somehow expected.

Esmera glared out at the clouds like chunks of wool on the horizon for a moment before she smoothed her brow and took a deep breath in. Fear or anger would only cloud her judgment and hand her opponent an easy defeat, Tauram had once told her during a training session.

If Esmera wanted to have any chance of defeating Ruagu, she had to leave all her emotions behind on this balcony when she left for Milatanur Palace. He certainly wouldn't give her time to compose herself or a second opportunity to kill him if she forfeited the first one. Besides, the gods' deadline was nearing.

There was no time for second chances.

Esmera had just brought her breathing and pulse rate down to normal when the largest moth she had seen in her life appeared. She had seen it only once before, when it fluttered around the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Now, it hovered above Tauram's head and flapped its sombre-toned, majestic wings three times in the most graceful call to battle Esmera could've ever imagined.

"It's time," Tauram murmured, the gentle, artistic king assembling his troops.

Queen Ghallia's moth vanished, probably tracing her sorcerer's scent back to her and returning to her.

Esmera and Belaren gathered around Tauram as they had done so many times before. The prince's solid grip closed around their wrists, turning them invisible to the rest of the world and each other with his will. Lundas's paws padded in a familiar circle around their ankles even though they couldn't see him.

And then their group was spinning through space, stopping on a rocky ledge lost among the clouds in the distance before they stopped, and the three floors of the magnificent Royal Palace of Milatanur came into view, its reddish roofs curling at the edges.

Esmera had expected viewing it by daylight would brighten it compared to how it looked by night, but it was somehow grimmer than it had been the last time she saw it. The pink flowers seemed to hang their heads as she walked past their pots. For the first time, she noticed the stone likenesses of Anjarah's monal familiar flanking the path leading to the main entrance of the palace, though they stood in their formation much more calmly than Samier ever would.

Nobody breathed a word. The only sound was Belaren's squirrel popping his head out of his sorcerer's pocket before ducking back inside it, clearly not liking what he saw.

They all knew without needing to be told that they had to be silent. There was too much at stake, and they hadn't arrived at the lair of their enemy just for him to capture them.

The guards' posts were deserted. The gates stood unlocked and ajar, almost temptingly so. It sent shivers through Esmera. Something felt wrong about the absence of any living being in sight, but maybe it was just Queen Ghallia working her charm on the inside of the palace. Maybe she was throwing a decoy party and had convinced the guards to attend it solely to distract them and allow Esmera and her team to attack.

Or maybe it was too much to hope for that.

Esmera's mouth went dry as she, Tauram, and Belaren slipped through the gates, still an invisible chain of sorcerers and familiars. The grounds were quiet. Too quiet for a party, as mournfully silent as a funeral.

His hand still on Esmera's arm, Tauram led her up the stairs, treading lightly to obscure their footfalls. They pushed the main door open, only for an empty entrance hall to greet them. Tauram pulled Esmera onwards, into the throne room that awaited them ahead.

They entered the double door flanked by yaoguai only for the scene beyond it to freeze them on the spot.

Queen Ghallia was on her knees before King Ruagu, her deep pink sari like paint dripping from her body as it trailed along the tiles. Her husband stood in front of his throne, a garish chair made from gold and set with deep green stones. Esmera had to wonder whether he'd had that constructed after he usurped the kingdom. It didn't seem like something Tauram would create for himself.

The cows on either side of the throne were undeniably a remnant of the Morghis dynasty, weathered stone peeking out from beneath peeling paint.

Ruagu's sudden movement drew Esmera's eyes to him again. He rested a hand on Ghallia's head, but there was no tenderness in the gesture that might otherwise seem affectionate. Beside him, the yaoguai's eyes were hard on Ghallia, the way those of an executioner would rest on the condemned.

Esmera didn't dare to breathe too loudly in case she drew those gazes to herself. She couldn't see Ghallia's face, but her trembling shoulders said enough. They spoke of fear, but of what?

Esmera's stomach clenched. She had a feeling she was going to get the answer to her question soon.

King Ruagu traced a gnarled fingernail along the highest point of the golden crown gracing his wife's beautiful head. "I knew you betrayed the man you swore you loved before me. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you betrayed me next."

Ghallia flinched as he ripped the crown from her head and flung it against the wall. Esmera covered her mouth to keep from gasping as it clattered to the ground, dented where it had struck the concrete, with the tiny diamonds lining its base scattering around it.