As I packed up the tent, the sun crawled up over the horizon, and warmth brushed my skin. Two Guardians still stood watch some distance from us, crossbows hanging relaxed in their hands but eyes never leaving Isalio. Further off, tents flopped to the ground as poles were removed, and hushed voices murmured. Everyone prepared for the journey ahead—everyone except Isalio. He still sat on the ground, arms wrapped over his chest and shoulders shaking.

Holding the pole and tarp bags in one hand, I shifted my weight to prop my other hand on my hip and frowned at him. "Maybe I can negotiate for two less cuffs."

"You can't fucking negotiate, Remgar."

The venom in his voice knocked me back a step, and my fist slipped off my hip. "Why not? They need you to be able to walk, at least, and they must know they can block your powers with just two..." My chest tightened, remembering how he had somehow knocked down a dozen Demons while still wearing two cuffs—when the Demons were about to kill me. I shifted and cleared my throat. "Anyone would be able to see that you're weak right now. You're no threat."

"Just like at the rebel base?"

His face and voice were neutral, hiding all emotion and even the obvious sarcasm. I expelled a frustrated huff of laughter, but before I could decide how to respond, a small figure flounced toward us, hips waving and breasts and hair bouncing—Zuzette. She stopped a few feet from us and looked us both up and down. Then she flung a hand over one breast.

"Well, color me shocked, going from the Demons to the Guardians didn't change much! You two are still in a mess—you just switched who's wearing the cuffs. And I'm still being asked to serve."

Every part of what she'd said bothered me, but the last part was easiest to address. "Who asked you to serve, Zuzette?"

"Some fiery fire-head said everyone has a job right now. 'Universal voluntary contribution,' so we can win back our freedom together, and bla, bla, bla. Self-righteous asshat, is what she is. Thinks she's a real hero just because everyone calls her Leader."

"Fraschkit is a good Leader, with a good heart. And she's my friend."

She snorted. "Think that's enough to save your Prince?"

My stomach kicked up a flutter, and I instinctively snuck a glance at Isalio, but he did not meet my gaze. "My Prince?" I croaked.

She shrugged. "People are saying you're protecting him."

Not very well, I thought. Thanks to me, he was weak, cuffed, and awaiting trial among his enemies. "He's going to help us."

"Not if the other Guardians have anything to say about it. And the verdict on you isn't looking good, either. A Guardian serving the Demons is barely better than a Demon, you know." She hesitated, darting a glance left and right before lowering her voice. "They don't know I've been serving the Demons, too."

"I won't tell anyone," I promised. "But also, you don't need to worry about that. Fraschkit would not allow a human to be harmed for serving Demons."

She scoffed. "We'll see. I think your Leader is already suspicious of me, since I volunteered to bring breakfast to the Demon. Which reminds me..."

She dug something from her satchel and chucked it at me. Reflexively, I caught the offering—two packets of rehydrated rice and veggies, the same kind I had eaten at the base.

"The food here's terrible," said Zuzette. "Enjoy!" Then she turned on her heel and flounced off in the direction she had come.

I dropped down beside Isalio and offered him one of the packets. He grimaced at the food and flicked a dismissive wrist.

"You can have it," he said.

I frowned. "Is it true what you told me at the base—that you can't eat with four cuffs?"

He shrugged. "I can eat, but it won't stay down."

His matter-of-fact answer chilled me. "You tried before? You didn't try at the rebel base, so you must have tried at the palace?"

He didn't respond.

I swallowed and lowered my voice. "What made you want to destroy the world, Isalio?"

"I'm a Demon." His voice remained quiet and even. "What other reason do I need?"

I shook my head. "But you didn't always want that. What happened to you in the dungeon, Isalio? Before you summoned the Morgabeast, what did they do to you?

His only response was a quick exhale through his nose. His shoulders remained hunched and eyes downcast, long lashes framing glazed eyes.

I set down both packets of food and touched his arm. "Hey, look at me."

His eyes met mine, briefly, maybe unintentionally—obeying my command without thinking first. In that second, his unguarded gaze revealed a confounding flurry of emotions. Fear, sadness, desperation, and maybe something else? Then his eyes averted again, and he wiped his face blank.

"Don't touch me," he said. "Actually, you shouldn't even be sitting by me."

I removed my hand but remained at his side. "At tonight's trial, you need to give them better answers than you're giving me."

"They have no reason to believe me."

"I'll tell them how you healed me—how you saved me. And I'll try to make my father remember what he told me before."

"You mean his premonition about the 'Lord of the Night?'"

His voice held a bitter undertone I couldn't quite interpret. Was he angry that I hadn't shared that information with him sooner? Skeptical about its validity? Afraid of being used?

"I don't know what my father meant by that," I said, "But I know we need you on our side. I..."

I need you, I wanted to say, but it didn't make sense even in my own head. I was with my own people now, the people who had trained me and cared for me over the last fourteen years. I didn't need a Demon I had met just weeks ago, especially not the Demon who killed my family. He appealed to me entirely too much, possibly more than anyone ever had before, but desire did not constitute need.

"Brother Remgar?"

Kardki's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. She stood ten paces from us, next to the two Guardians with crossbows.

"It's time," she said, cocking her head toward a growing line-up of humans and Guardians, interspersed with a few wagons. "Leader Fraschkit has asked us to escort the Demon to the back of the line. You can walk wherever you choose."

Maybe I should have wanted to check on my father or the humans from the barn—and their well-being did weigh on my mind—but at least they had other Guardians caring for them.

Isalio had no one. No one but me.

"I'll walk with the Demon," I said.

I scarfed down the packet of food and offered a hand to Isalio, but he shook his head and pushed himself to his feet without my help. He looked ill, face pale and shiny, and he followed the Guardians who beckoned us with slow, shaky steps.

As we started toward the back of the line-up, a human pointed at Isalio, and faces turned toward us in a ripple. Their eyes widened, and some backed away.

Isalio hunched his shoulders and ducked his head, appearing more like the slaves at the palace than the Demon Prince who had just recently ruled over these humans. With his head downturned, his shaggy hair covered most of his eyes, but I caught the reflection of light on amber irises and followed his gaze to see who had caught his interest: a small man with deadened eyes and scars like Borgal's swirling his face and arms.

My throat dried. 'Those scars would mark you as a cow,' Isalio had told me. I wondered if he had caused any of that man's marks. The thought should have horrified me, but I couldn't help thinking that there was more to the story. That even if Isalio had caused those marks, he hadn't wanted to. That those marks disturbed Isalio as much as they disturbed me.

When we reached the end of the line-up, feet shuffled into motion and wheels rolled, kicking up clouds of loose sand as we crossed the desert.

Beside me, Isalio struggled to walk. I bit my tongue to prevent myself from offering assistance—but when he pitched forward, I reacted instinctively. My hands hooked under his arms just before he could hit the ground, and I held him upright. He doubled over as far as my grip allowed and broke into a coughing fit.

With my hands still under his armpits, I rubbed my thumbs over his shoulders. "Isalio, are you ok?"

He dragged in a ragged breath and tried to say something, only to break out into more coughing. Blood splattered his arm and speckled the sand below our feet.

My gut pinched. "Never mind, don't speak. Just breathe." I turned toward the Guardians, who had stopped walking to stare at Isalio. "He needs help. Someone go get Fraschkit!"

Kardki nodded. "Yes, Brother Remgar."

She broke into a jog, making for the line of humans and Guardians ahead of us. I turned my attention back to Isalio, who was spitting up blood and wheezing.

My heart battered my chest, but I somehow managed a deep, soothing tone. "Hey, Fraschkit is coming, Isalio. She'll take off some cuffs. You'll be ok. Just breathe."

He shook his head and made another effort to respond, but only a choked half-syllable left his lips before he resumed hacking up his lungs.

Fuck. How long had Isalio been fighting to hold it together before this collapse? And here I had actually felt relieved when we saw the Guardians approaching us outside the Forest of Lost Beasts. Had I really thought they would treat him kindly?

"You'll be ok," I said again, lacking anything better to say. I searched the line ahead of us. Where the fuck was Fraschkit?

Then she appeared, approaching at a brisk walk not nearly fast enough to appease me. As she neared, Isalio managed a rattling breath, straightened, and attempted to push my hands off of him. But his attempt was weak, and his whole body shook.

I drew him closer to me.

"Fraschkit, where are the keys?" I demanded. "He can't breathe. You have to take off two cuffs, at least."

"Rem, s-st—" Isalio started, but his voice dissolved into more coughing.

Fraschkit ground her teeth. "I can't take this risk. If he lashes out, this group is not strong enough to fight back."

"If our whole army is not strong enough to fight a half-dead Demon, how do we expect to stand a chance against the palace?" The words came out sharper than I had intended, and she blinked at me. I sucked in a breath and lowered my voice before continuing. "It's not a risk, Fraschkit. He can't override two cuffs."

She dragged a hand through her unruly red locks. "I'm Leader now. I'm not just your friend."

"And as Leader, you can't afford to lose this asset. If we lose him, we can't get any information from him, he can't help us, and the Morgabeast will become more dangerous than ever."

"I'm sure you understand my reluctance to believe all of that...especially the part about him helping us."

Isalio hacked another cough and fell limp against me. His back burned ice-cold against my chest. Unshed tears of frustration stung my eyes, and I bit back a curse.

"Fraschkit, please," I begged her, bereft of other options. "He's dying."

For several impossibly long seconds, she stood stiff as a board. Then she expelled a noisy sigh and plunged a hand into her pocket, producing the silver key I had given her.

When she strode forward and grabbed his arm, her brow furrowed, and I knew she noticed the same thing I had felt—the uncanny chill of his skin. But she did not comment, instead moving mechanically from one cuff to the next.

With both wrists free, he still did not move, except for his shoulder bones shifting against my chest with each tiny breath. He felt so fragile—a fragility at utter odds with the power he possessed. I was reminded of my first impression of him at the rebel base: a wounded bird.

Knowing Fraschkit and the other Guardians were still watching me, I stopped myself from wrapping my arms around him and drawing him to my chest. "Isalio, can you hear me?" I murmured.

He moaned an unintelligible response, and relief flooded my chest.

Fraschkit nodded to the Guardians around us. "Take the Demon to a wagon, and give him some food and water." Her voice was quiet but authoritative. "Remgar, you should walk with your father for the rest of the journey."

I was hesitant to leave Isalio, but talking to my father was not a bad idea. While I was sure Fraschkit had other intentions in mind, I prayed I could jog my father's memory. What vision had he seen about the Lord of the Night?

"Thank you, Fraschkit," I said, bowing my head.

She tsked and shook her head, eyes steely. "Remgar...you're my friend, and I want to trust you. But if this is some trick, I will end you with my own two hands."