"I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me."

—From Much Ado About Nothing,
By William Shakespeare

HOLLY WATCHED AS THE battles began.

Tendrils of vines shot out of one of the competitors' hands, green encasing their fingers and wrapping around their competitor's ankles, yanking with enough force to turn them upside-down. Their opponent responded by shooting flames at them, though it was rather difficult to do when one was hanging by one's feet. Though usually she would admire their fighting form and wonder what she herself might do differently in their situation, today she could not.

Poison. Someone had tried to poison the Queen of Mordania.

How could they do such a thing? Yet she knew the answer. That woman had likely been hunted down for her entire life, had been the target of numerous assassination attempts since she was a child. Queen Jovana's own mother had died in such an attempt--an act of war, and from what she heard, treason as well--and from what little she knew, this assassin would not be the last.

Holly shut her eyes, drowning out the noises of people around her booing and cheering in equal measure as one of the fighters took down the other, all of them battling to see who would become the next rulers of Atla. She could not care less, right now, about the fate of her own country. All she cared about was learning what their northern neighbours were up to.

Queen Jovana had been kind enough to allow her and Kaiden to escape her country, when she had no reason to do so and when she had in fact every reason not to do so. Why would she do such a thing? Why put her own life and reputation at stake to allow them to escape?

None of it made sense to her. She was not a courtier, but she had grown up around them, in court, in dens of vipers as deadly as any real snake. She had learned how to distinguish fact from fiction, lies from truth and most importantly, flattery from affection. The queen had not been particularly gracious or polite to them, but she had done them an immense kindness. And now Holly was left feeling like she owed her her life, a reluctant debt that she would pay nonetheless.

Someday.

Somehow.

Her eyes snapped open when Kaiden's hand landed on her wrist, his grip firm, his green gaze on hers unwavering. The same eyes she had seen all her life, the same tan face with a smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks, the same boy--no, man. So why did this feel so different?

"Can you come with me for a moment?" he asked. His voice sounded different, too. Not suave or charming or even commanding, but fragile, like it might break if she said the wrong thing.

She didn't know what to do with such a Kaiden. "Of course. What is it?"

Instead of responding, as the crowds were occupied with the spectacle of glorified gladiators fighting in the pits in the centre of the arena, he tugged her into an alcove. No one noticed them leave; the hairs on the back of her neck did not stand on end, and she felt no eyes on her back.

"Well?" she folded her arms across her chest. The worries on her mind put her in no mood for a secret rendezvous or a romantic tryst, as much as the way he was looking at her made her think of changing her mind.

"The Thornes will fall," he said in a low, urgent voice. "I know it to be true."

Her eyes widened. Why was he being so ominous, in a way that made her grip the dagger he'd given her, where it hung in its sheath at her side? It wasn't as though no one had expected it. The ritual was completed every generation, and one always had to fight for their spot in the Atlan monarchy. There was no security here. Any foothold one gained was only a hand seizing them by the ankle, ready to drag them down and take one's place.

"What is this, some last stand? A last-ditch effort at surviving whoever comes next?" she murmured.

There was no loyalty in these courts. Not when there was a new set of fawning sycophants every generation, who replaced the old ones and were just as fake, just as backstabbing, and just as two-faced. Not when the monarchy was so fresh every time that it had barely had time to plant any roots in before they were ripped out and replaced by new ones.

It was good, she thought, at least a better alternative to the constant corruption that was deeply entrenched in other courts. Wasn't it?

"No, Holly," he said, and desperation was soaked into each syllable of his voice. Desperation, and hope. "This is an opportunity. When my family loses the throne, I will no longer be the king."

That hung in the air, a glimmering, golden wish of an idea. She spun fanciful thoughts and wove them into a web of dreams linking the two of them, as surely as their heartstrings were tangled together. "What will you be, then?"

"If you'll have me, Holly..." He took a deep breath, his green eyes boring into hers. "I would like to be your husband."

As soon as he spoke the words, screams and calamity erupted outside the alcove. Holly tore back the green velvet curtains, immediately unsheathing her dagger out of instinct to defend Kaiden. She felt his body tense up, he was standing so close behind her. The scent of him, mint and cloves and musk, cloaked her in a sense of safety that did not exist, not as long as there was evil in this world. Yet she wanted so badly to believe it, that she breathed him in.

He would be the death of her.

Outside the alcove, nobles and fighting champions alike were huddled into a crowd circling the arena. As she watched, the vaulted centre of the marble ceiling came crashing down in an explosion of dust, debris, and stone. And on top of its dome stood a woman in a red gown. She wore a crown of spikes and jewels, carried a sword, and radiated blood and steel.

Queen Jovana, of Mordania.

What in the name of every saint was she doing here, in Atla, where people would kill her at first sight, and how had she made the ceiling of Atla's most highly guarded building fall in?

Behind her, kaiden squeezed her arm, before moving her gently to one side. She was too stunned to stop him as he strode toward the queen like an absolute fool. Just because Jovana had allowed them to escape did not mean she harboured any sort of friendly feelings for him.

And she knew the same was true of Kaiden. But it was his duty as monarch to greet her, Holly supposed, even if that role was tenuous.

"Queen Jovana," he said. His voice was a ruler's drawl, the voice of a man who had all the time and resources and power in the world and could bend and stretch the lives of those around him with a snap of his fingers. "To what do I owe this... unexpected pleasure?"

"I had heard you were looking for competitors for the next ruling dynasty of Atla," she said, lifting her chin. "Well, I am here to compete."

"Ah..." Kaiden rubbed at his jaw. "You see, there may only be one problem with such a proposal, and that problem is that you are not Atlan."

In response, Jovana pointed at one of the lumps of stone that had broken off of the ceiling when she had made her descent into the arena. It lifted in the air, before shearing into a dozen shards of rock. The crowd gasped, some people fleeing in horror, pushing past one another to reach the door.

Holly didn't know whether to laugh or escape the room herself.

"We share the same blood, Kaiden," the queen said in a low voice. There was something truly lethal in her, something in the way her green eyes seemed to glow with a deadly intensity as they fixed on the king's. "That makes me more Atlan than a great deal of people I could name."

They shared the same blood? This woman was delusional. Absolutely delusional. Yet as she allowed herself to consider that possibility for a moment, as she looked at the green eyes, the high cheekbones they shared... Both from Connell Thorne. And her stomach retched at the thought that Kaiden had nearly married her. His half-sister.

"Prove it," he said, eyes widening, gritting his teeth. He didn't want to believe it, either. She didn't blame him.

"Ask your ally, Ilyas Durand, for the truth." With that, a smile slid across her face, and it was every bit as vicious and sharp as the blade of a knife, her skirts swirling across the ruined floor she had just dropped onto.