I attempted a few push-ups to clear my mind, but my body gave out quickly, still weakened by the morning's events. Sinking down beside the window, I gazed out at the lands below—the barren land hugging the palace, the black-speckled limbs of the Keeper's tree, and the vibrant green spot of the garden.

My eyes wandered to the horizon, where the dark forest separated these lands from the endless desert. Somewhere beyond that desert lay the destroyed Guardian base and the surviving towns. I wondered what the remaining free Guardians were doing now. Was Fraschkit still safe? Did my father believe I was dead? I imagined him alone, weeping in the cellar, bereft of reasons to live.

Zuzette arrived a few hours later with a tray of steaming food. With my gut still twisted in knots, I didn't expect to feel hungry, but the spicy-savory waft of vegetable patties and cinnamon-infused lamb made my stomach growl.

She dropped the tray on the bedside table with a humph that contrasted her usual upbeat spirit. I slid the tray onto my lap slowly, but instead of eating, I cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Are you alright, Zuzette?"

"Do you care? Or you are just playing 'Guardian?'"

I blinked, then drew a breath. "I recognize I don't have much power to help you right now, but if someone is mistreating you, maybe I can talk to the Duchess, or—"

"Are you with the General? Or with the High Prince?"

I stared at her, confounded in part by her question but even more so by my internal response. The thought of being 'with the General' made me sick and livid. The thought of being 'with the High Prince' produced a far more ambiguous reaction...a combination of self-disgust, confusion, and a strange squeeze of the gut I did not want to name.

Unable to conjure a better response, I croaked, "What do you mean?"

She tossed her head, curls bouncing, and propped a fist on the meat of her generous hip. "I saw you with them both in the garden. But I couldn't see which side you are on."

"Neither of them are on my side."

"Right, right, because you're a perfect Guardian, and they're horrible Demons and bla, bla, bla..."

I was reminded me of Isalio's claim: that Guardians had tortured more humans than we had saved. At least in the last fourteen years, it was true. We lacked the power to protect humans now, but it was easy to capture and torture humans who sided with Demons...humans like the spirited young woman before me.

Her voice grew gentler. "Although I will admit, you seem different from other Guardians."

"Maybe you don't know other Guardians," I said.

"Or maybe you don't."

I scoffed, in part at the ridiculousness of her words and in part to hide how disconcerted I felt. Of course I knew Guardians—I had grown up surrounded by them, and I had spent the last fourteen years training with them. And yet, I hadn't expected the Guardian soldiers at the base to abandon Kardki and the wounded in order to save themselves. And I certainly had not expected Borgal's betrayal.

Again, she filled the silence. "I'm sure you can have either the General or the High Prince on your side, if you give them what they want."

I raised my eyebrows. "And what do they want?"

Her fingers pressed against her mouth in a pretense of humility. "What would I know? I'm only a servant."

"But in your opinion?"

Her hand dropped, and her boisterous demeanor returned. "The General wants the High Prince. What for, I don't know, but I know the Duchess hates him, and that's enough for me. As far as what the High Prince wants, I don't think anyone quite knows, but..." She trailed off, assessing me with narrowed eyes.

"But?" I prompted.

She shrugged. "He called you 'handsome.' Never heard him say anything like that before."

My throat swelled as I remembered how he had looked at me earlier that day—how he had laid himself so bare before me with that impossible hope shining in his eyes. When I had said nothing, he didn't appear disappointed. Just resigned...defeated.

"What do you know about the High Prince?" I asked her. "Is he good to you?"

Zuzette's brow furrowed, wrinkling her forehead. "He doesn't talk to me much. I don't think he talks to anyone much, actually—except maybe the Keeper. But I've never seen him treat anyone cruelly."

"He takes lifeforce from the humans in the barn."

"Do you blame a wolf for hunting sheep? Or do you blame the shepherd who left them untended?"

"If I were a sheep, I think I'd blame both."

Her brow relaxed as a sad smile overtook her face. "You are a sheep now, Remgar. You just belong to a wolf who is fighting his instincts."

"So what do you think I should do?" I intended for the question to sound challenging, but a note of desperation turned it into a plea. "Run from him? Fight him? Use him?"

She huffed a laugh and shook her head. "You know why I chose to serve the Demons? Because in this world, a sheep needs to choose a side to survive. I think you should decide whose side you are on, and decide it fast."

***

After a good meal and a nap, I regained enough strength to exercise. As I trained, I contemplated Zuzette's advice. It felt like a betrayal to my family to side with Isalio. But what good did it do anyone to keep pushing him away? I was not acting as a Guardian. The only thing I was saving was my pride.

I was planning to ask Zuzette more about the palace and the Demons and maybe even ask her to request Isalio visit me again. However, when the key clicked in the door again, Zuzette was not the one who entered.

It was Danif.

He strode toward me and folded himself into the chair beside the bed as if he had done this a thousand times before. Meanwhile, my muscles tensed, and my heartrate picked up a notch. Trepidation and anger warred. I wanted nothing to do with this monster, but I knew better than to cross him.

Scanning me up and down, he chuckled. "Well, well, you don't look very punished. Color me shocked!"

My eyes locked on the silver key he flipped around absently in his long fingers—the same key Zuzette had used. Had he done something to her?

"Why are you here?" I demanded.

Another chuckle. "Listen, Remgar, is it? I think we got off on the wrong foot."

I didn't bother to speak. If he wanted something from me, he would have to work harder than that.

"After that little mishap earlier," said the General, "The Queen and King would like to see you properly punished and thrown in the dungeon with the rest of the Guardians. They are afraid the High Prince's judgment has been compromised." He waited for a reaction, but I didn't give him one. "However, I offered an alternative solution."

"A worse one, I'm sure."

He gave a belabored sigh. "Look, there is no reason for you and I to be enemies. We both want the same things—or some of the same things, at least. For example, you want freedom. It just so happens I would love to get you out of the palace and send you on your merry way."

A giddy kick of adrenaline tightened my chest as I searched for the trick in his words. "You would free me?"

"If you help me with something else I want—something we both want. I think you'll agree that the High Prince has entirely too much power right now."

I raised an eyebrow. He was still speaking in an easy, casual tone, as though he was not blatantly discussing treason. "What are you saying? You want me to kill him?"

He waved a hand. "No, no. I suppose we differ on that part. I'm sure you'd prefer to get rid of him entirely, but as for me, I'm in love with him. Unfortunately, over the years, he's drifted away, grown headstrong and silly...forgotten his love for me, and forgotten his obedience to the throne. I just need to subdue him and remind him who's in charge."

Those smooth, congenial words curdled my gut. Subdue him. I tried not to imagine what Danif was planning to do to Isalio...and what he had probably already done.

Trying to keep my voice even, I asked, "And how am I supposed to help with that?"

"You see, he used to be such a good boy, but now he won't even put on cuffs around me anymore. And I need him in two cuffs so I can retrain him properly. Otherwise, he just won't cooperate."

"He won't put on two cuffs for me, either," I said.

"Ask him to kiss you," he said, still speaking as though this was all quite obvious and pleasant. "He'll put on one cuff for you, not two—enough to harness his powers but not eliminate them. Then when you have him properly distracted, you'll put on this other cuff."

This was a bizarre echo of Isalio's request from a week ago, but all of the circumstances had changed. Back then, he had used the kiss to manipulate me. Now the General was asking me to use a kiss to take power from him. It seemed fitting, in a certain way.

But I didn't like it.

"You really think he'd kiss me on request?" I said.

"You really think he wouldn't?"

I thought of the way he had bowed before me, and how quickly he sat on the chair just because I told him to. The General was right, and I knew it. And based on his growing smile, he knew that I knew it.

He fished a rubber cuff out of his pocket and presented it to me on his palm. "After that, it will be a simple matter. When he is wearing two cuffs, you are much stronger than he is, so you can easily hold him down until my soldiers arrive."

I swallowed the bile that pushed up into my throat. "And if I do that, how do I know you'll actually free me? What's to stop you from throwing me in with the rest of the Guardians?"

He shrugged. "Ask anyone around here—I always keep my word. Besides, I want you out of here. If Isalio knows you've betrayed him and left him, he'll comply with my wishes sooner."

The more he talked, the sicker I felt. I reminded myself that Isalio was my enemy—that he had murdered my family and many other Guardians and humans—but all I could feel was cold horror. Even if a large part of me hated Isalio, no part of me wanted to put him at Danif's mercy.

I drew a breath and spoke slowly. "And what if I refuse?"

His smile spread wider, crinkling his bright amber eyes. "I was hoping you would ask that. Let's take a little trip together, shall we?"

He swept an arm toward the door.

Against every instinct, I followed him. His smile spoke of something I didn't want to see, but morbid curiosity forced my feet. I trudged down the hall and back into the metal box room.

This time, we plummeted even faster and further than before. I clasped the bar against the wall as nausea sloshed in my stomach.

Seconds later, we jerked to a halt. The door slid open, revealing a long dank corridor, dimly lit by naked bulbs hanging from the ceiling. The lights flickered in time to a throbbing beat overhead. I eyed the ceiling, trying to determine where we were and where the sound was coming from.

The General caught my eye and smiled. "We're under the Revival. Best place for a dungeon, since no one can hear a thing over the music they blast all day and night."

The unspoken words scraped a cold knife down my back. Demons danced and played just right overhead, but no one could hear the screams.

Right now, though, the corridor was silent. The only sound came from the squeaking of Danif's black leather boots and the thump of my own feet behind him. On our left, the metal wall gave way to clear plexiglass, several inches thick and reflecting the light-bulbs in eerie patterns. Inside, a Guardian slumped unconscious against the wall, wrists chained above her head.

"Kardki," I said, stopping to wave through the glass. I knew the General had some nefarious reason for showing me this again, but I couldn't stop myself from taking the chance to connect with her.

"She can't see or hear you," said the General, tone apologetic. "It's a one-way window." He tilted his head toward the corridor ahead. "Now then, may we continue?"

We passed more cells, some empty, a few with humans I did not recognize, and ten more with Guardians. I recognized one of the wounded men from the base who Kardki must have saved. They all looked beaten and wary. I wondered how long they could hold out before bowing to the General's every whim.

How long had Borgal's loyalty lasted before he decided to betray us all?

Caught up in a circle of unanswerable questions, it took me a moment to recognize the human in the next cell. She sat with her arms crossed over her chest and chin tilted high, glaring at the ceiling as though it had wronged her. Her blouse was ripped, but she appeared more angry than hurt.

Anger twisted tighter around my chest. I fisted my hands to avoid attacking the still-nonchalant General. "Why would you bring Zuzette here? She's been loyal to you."

He frowned. "Loyal to me, specifically? Debatable. But not to worry—she hasn't been harmed. I just need to keep her out of the way until I can free you, and then she'll be back to her garden-tending like nothing ever happened. Now come; I have something more important to show you."

I wasn't ready to accept his words, but when we reached the last cell, all thoughts of my companions and of Zuzette vanished.

The Guardian rocked on the floor, arms wrapped around his legs and eyes vacant, like a lost child. His few scraggly remains of hair poked up at odd angles, and his hands trembled. My feet and my heart both stopped as I stared at him.

"Dad?" I whispered.

Danif nodded and clucked his tongue as though in sympathy. "My soldiers found him in the desert, wandering alone. Looking for you, it seems. Poor thing is so confused. Luckily, we've brought him back to this nice safe cell."

I swung toward him, my chest heaving. "What have you done to him?"

"How you wound me! I've not harmed him at all...yet." He clapped my shoulder. "Give me Isalio, in two cuffs, and you and your father will both go free."