The moment I entered the Coupling, watchful eyes tickled my skin. A quick side-glance as a mug of prak tilted against lips. A fleeting pause in the middle of an eye roll. A swinging gaze as a head tipped back with laughter. Not looks of desire but something much more calculated... something planned.

Izra's spies? Or the King's?

Fading sunlight dappled the bright tents circling the field. Before the blood-red tent, a lithe figure scanned the crowd. A tunic and trousers similar to my own draped over her frame. A mere second after I noticed her, her eyes locked on mine. Then she flashed a bright smile and strode straight toward me.

I sucked in a breath to calm the giddy anticipation in my chest. It's not real, I reminded myself. She's not actually excited to see me.

Izra stopped five feet from me and tilted her head, still smiling. "I was almost afraid you wouldn't make it tonight. I'm not sure I could settle for anyone else again."

I clamped down on another pathetic flutter at her words. Any chance of an authentic relationship between us had long since vanished. My eyes dipped to the dagger strapped to her hip, and I remembered the cold metal pricking my neck at our last meeting. Izra was only playing a role now — just like everyone in the palace.

My lips strained in an effort to smile. "I would never miss an opportunity to see you."

She tipped her head toward the tent. "Shall we go somewhere more private?"

"Yes, please."

Izra stepped forward, snatched my hand, and laced her fingers through mine. My heart clenched at the warmth of her hand and the way her fingers slotted perfectly through my own. Tossing me another winsome smile, Izra tugged me toward the red tent. At the entrance, she flipped back the flap and ducked to enter, pulling me through behind her.

The second the flap fluttered closed, she wrenched her hand free from mine.

I jerked to a stop, feeling the absence of her hand as acutely as a slap across the face. Izra sauntered off toward the pile of furs. She sank down with her knees bent close to her chest, arms draped over her legs, and eyes pinned to the grass in front of her.

I pinched my thigh, staring at the same grassy spot Izra's gaze penetrated and vaguely listening to the crescendoing cacophony outside the tent. After a moment of silence, I cleared my throat.

"I hear you succeeded in freeing the prisoners."

"I did."

"And you didn't kill any guards."

"You asked me not to."

"You didn't have to listen to me."

"You didn't have to give me a key."

We fell silent once more. Izra propped her hands beside her hips, stretched out one leg, and let the other knee drop to the side. Her hair draped behind her in a glossy black curtain, and the lantern light silhouetted her profile with sharp strokes, a sponged painting of olive skin outlined in black. If I swept a hand through her hair, I imagined the silky strands would ripple like a pebble dropped into the lagoon at night.

"The King does not suspect you?"

I jerked my gaze to her face and shook my head. "No. He... he says I am the only guard he trusts completely."

Izra huffed a breath through her nose almost like a laugh, though her face remained expressionless. "I wish I could believe you right now. It would be satisfying to know the King fell for your act as easily as I did."

A sharp pain stung my chest as I remembered Makandi's words: Everyone is always acting. How differently I saw the world now than I had a few weeks ago... and how differently Izra now saw me.

"I think my best friend sees through my act," I said.

Izra's face turned a quarter inch toward me, though she still did not meet my eye. "The Lesser God worshipper?"

I glanced over my shoulder at the motionless flap before whispering my answer. "Yes."

"Do you think he will tell anyone?"

I remembered Pim's slow, contemplative storytelling. Should the talking fish stay loyal to his team of fish or protect his friend? Then I remembered him gently pulling Rona to his chest.

"No, I don't think he will. He is loyal to the Royal Guard, but he has too good of a heart to betray me."

The lantern light flickered over the furs as Izra clutched fistfuls. "Hmm. I once thought that about someone."

My throat swelled around an apology both pointless and inadequate, and I bit my lip hard enough to taste the metallic sting of blood. Several more seconds ticked by in silence before I pushed out a question.

"So, what do we do now?"

With a sigh, she straightened both legs and leaned back a bit further. The movement drew my attention to her body — the lean lines of her supporting arms, the collarbone exposed at the open neck of her tunic, her breasts pressing against the tunic's fabric with each inhale. I imagined tracing a finger over her collarbone and watching her breath quicken. Even if she did not trust me, would her body still respond to my touch?

"We sit here and wait long enough to convince anyone watching. I won't give you any information, and I won't believe whatever you tell me, so that is all we can do."

I nodded, pressing clammy hands against my thighs. "Right, unless... unless you want..."

Unless you want me.

Her eyes flitted to mine and snagged there, like a shirtsleeve caught on a thorn. For three seconds, neither of us so much as breathed. Then she ripped her gaze away with a sharp exhale.

"You can't possibly think I would fall for that again."

* * *

When I returned to the palace an hour later, only two guards instead of the usual five guarded the entrance, and neither would meet my gaze. Inside, servants bustled about their usual activities, Honey fed Makari, Princess Paranila chatted to a silent Queen Romalda, and Makandi nursed a half-empty bottle of prak, but King Makapu proved elusive.

Unease bubbled in the pit of my stomach, and pinpricks tap-danced down my spine.

Something was wrong.

In the hallway near the courtyard, three servants hunkered over on hands and knees, swiping polishing cloths over the shimmering marble floor. I hopped over a wet portion to stand in front of them.

"Excuse me, have you seen King Makapu?"

The two male servants shook their heads and returned to polishing, but the middle-aged woman drew herself up to her feet.

"I imagine His Royal Majesty is still attending the execution, Epsa."

Cold panic bolted through me, and I tensed. "Execution?"

She wrung the cloth in both hands, frowning. "I thought everyone knew. They discovered a traitor on the Royal Guard."

The panic tightened around my lungs, shoving out all air. I dragged in a breath and forced myself to ask the question I dreaded hearing answered.

"Who? Who was the traitor?"

"Turns out that Northern barbarian is a Lesser God worshipper."

The room tilted, the glare of light off of marble sliced my retina, and I staggered to the side. Hard, unforgiving wall smacked my shoulder as I mouthed the word I could not vocalize.

No.

The servant tilted her head, chestnut curls bouncing around her face. "Are you alright? Was he... was he a friend of yours?"

My voice croaked, clenching around the world. "Where?"

"The palace execution grounds. But Epsa, you really shouldn't —"

My feet slapped the wet marble floor, and my heart thumped a wild gallop. I careened through the hallways, shoving off of walls and snagging door frames to propel myself onward. At the entrance, I hurtled over a crouched servant and thrust open the heavy palace doors.

I leaped down the front steps and darted across the open grass into the woods. Each step punched down dry grass and snapped twigs as I dodged trees and ducked branches. Ragged breaths ripped my throat, coating my mouth with viscous blood.

When I neared the execution ground, murmurs mingled with my own breaths. I gasped out a desperate plea.

"Wait! Stop!" The blood in my throat crackled up over my words, muffling my voice. "He is not the traitor."

The trees before me sparsened, revealing vague figures fifty feet before me outlined in the dim light of the moon and stars. One large figure slumped over a tree stump, broad chest heaving. Silver flashed as an axe lifted overhead.

"Stop! Don't do it! Please, don't —"

Thuck.

The sound resonated through my whole body, jerking every muscle and organ to a sickening halt. My feet stuck to the ground so quickly my upper body lurched forward with the momentum, and my hands shot out to catch my balance on a nearby tree branch. My eyes fixed on the sight before me, but my brain refused to process what I was seeing.

Blood dripping from the gleaming axeblade.

A head rolling off the stump with blood cascading over wide blue eyes.

Pamil at the edge of the small crowd, turned away with a hand clasped over his mouth.

The King striding toward me with a sad smile.

A hand grasped my shoulder, and his deep voice dripped over me, slow and sticky. "Epsa, sweet child, I am so sorry you had to see that."

A whistling echo of the axe's descent pulsed in my ears in time to my throbbing heartbeat. "No. No, no, no. Pim was so loyal. He would not have betrayed you."

The hand gently pushed my shoulder, turning me away from the gory spectacle. "I also thought he was loyal, but Pamil told us Pim had been sneaking away from training several times a day, so we searched Pim's house. You wouldn't believe what we found."

The ringing in my ears crescendoed to a rattling buzz as I imagined Rona sleeping against Pim's chest. "What... what did you find?"

"He had a locked room in the middle of his house packed full of Lesser God shrines, statues, and paintings. I am sure we would have found even more if we had continued the search, but by that time, Pim gave up all protests of innocence and admitted to treason."

The ground now moved beneath our feet, though I did not remember beginning to walk. The night sky darkened around us, and the limbs of trees cast long, sinister shadows across the ground. My voice strung together desperate, mindless protests, as though I could prevent what was already done.

"No, it's... it's not possible. Pim has too good a heart. He is the best of us, the most loyal. You can't do this."

"It's done, Epsa. It's already done."

"But he would never... he would never..."

The hand squeezed my shoulder once more, the normally comforting warmth and strength now sweltering and suffocating. "Take tomorrow off, child. You can visit Pim's house and see the evidence for yourself."

Did Rona remain hidden somewhere in Pim's home? I could not summon much concern over her fate, but Pim would want her safe. Unable to speak, I gave a jerky nod.

The King sighed. "I know it's difficult to accept, Epsa, but not everyone is who they first seem to be."

Staring into those warm brown eyes I had once adored, I swallowed and found my voice. "Yes, Your Majesty. I am beginning to understand that now."

The trees gave way to open ground, and the palace loomed before us. We scaled the palace steps and parted ways. Then I watched myself walk down the corridors toward the servant quarters — not really walking but falling forward and catching myself again with each step.

The doorknob to my bedroom twisted under my hand, the door creaked open, and my feet carried me inside. As soon as the door shut behind me, my shoulder blades fell back against the wood. Succumbing to the overwhelming weight in my chest, I slid down to the floor.

My hot, dry eyes stared at the room before me, taking in the rickety wooden bed frame, the tiny dresser, and the bedside table where Snuggles slouched with his head cocked and one black button eye glinting. For once, the sight of Snuggles did not interest me. Instead, I thought of the Acrador necklace tucked away in the bedside drawer.

I staggered to my feet and stumbled toward the bedside table. The table tipped to the side as I tugged the drawer open, and the dilapidated bear swayed and then toppled to the floor. Without sparing the bear a glance, my eyes fastened to the glint of silver buried in the back of the drawer. Carefully, I drew out the Acrador necklace.

I sank onto the bed beside me. The cold chain slipped over my fingers, and the pendant drooped, hanging heavy. Why didn't you save him, Acrador?

The V-smile glimmered with mocking indifference.

A tickle brushed over my ankle, and I startled, nearly dropping the necklace. I glanced down to see a spindly gray spider twitching across my shoe one long leg at a time. My other foot raised in a knee-jerk reaction to crush the pest —

And stopped.

Maybe he came to hear the story.

Tears finally pricked my eyes, blurring my hand that scooped up the spider and placed it on the bedside table. The spider paused there as though waiting. Listening.

"So, a brave warrior from Busk joins the Royal Guard to protect Najila and provide for his family. He trains hard, serves well, and befriends the only woman on the Royal Guard. All of his extra money he sends home to his mother and even some to the brother he hates."

The words tumbled out strangled and lopsided, nothing like Pim's smooth storytelling, but the spider remained motionless. I cleared my throat and continued.

"Even when a Trogolese enemy slashes open the warrior's face, he never loses his kind heart and gentle soul." Tears now streamed freely down my face, and soggy salt clogged my throat. "So when he sees a tiny Trogolese girl who should have been his enemy, he doesn't think of what her kind has done to him, and he doesn't consider the risks to his own wellbeing. He just takes her home and showers her with love."

The spider lifted one leg in an almost tentative gesture, as if to ask if the story had ended. I sniffled to suck back a trail of snot, picturing Pim's alternating shoulder lifts. Happy forever more!

"And you know what?" I said to the spider. "That is a story I might actually want to read..." My voice slipped into a hoarse croak. "If it weren't for the fucking lousy ending."

Then through the silent stillness, Pim's voice rang in my ears.

Well, it's really more of a saga.

A surge of adrenaline ratcheted up my heart rate and pumped fuel through my veins like before a spar. But this was no spar. This fuel burned redhot with malice, damming the flow of tears and incinerating all trepidation.

My blurry fist clenched over the necklace, and my voice left in a growl.

"I will avenge you, Pim."