The first day of the king's funeral procession was oddly warm and sunny. Tievel's mother told everyone it was an auspicious omen for her husband's future as king. At Astreia's side when she said this, I eyed Brinley Darksbane with misgiving while he picked his teeth with his pinky nail and leered at a servant. If it was a sign, it was more likely that the gods were celebrating the end of a miserable tyrant, but since the gods had stopped caring about us long ago, I decided it was a coincidence.

As the newly crowned high prince, Tievel had the honor of lighting the beacon—a funeral pyre built in the palace's tallest tower. It wasn't where the body would be burned. It was symbolic of the fires of judgment, the first stage of a soul's rebirth.

Fire cast by magic. The flames were tall enough to be seen from miles away, and legend had it they would not extinguish until the king's soul passed through to the Other Realm. I could not deny they were beautiful, especially that night when the golden sparks broke free from flickering amber tongues and spread across the black expanse, but every time I saw them, I fought back a wave of fear.

Astreia and Tievel were gone for six days after the lighting ceremony. The king's body would travel the kingdom to allow the citizens of Edresh to pay their respects. As the princess's companion, I did almost everything with her, unless it involved matters of state, but with our recent argument causing tension, I was happy to stay behind, spending most of my evenings in the library.

Of course, that meant I had ample alone time to dwell on what happened to me the night the king died. The obvious explanation—at least to me—was that the Reaper had told the truth. I was a Deathsinger. No one else had heard the mournful song, and the strange blackness in my eyes and skin disappeared the moment the song ceased.

This discovery, coupled by Joreen's rather harsh assessment of my character, chipped away at the walls I'd built around my desire to uncover the secrets of my childhood. Being safe had felt like a reasonable tradeoff for knowledge, especially when I suspected there could be nothing remarkable about me since I was a low elf. I convinced myself I'd hit my head during the fire that left me disfigured, and the fire probably happened during a war skirmish.

Now, nearly every waking thought was consumed with what ifs and wondering, but how could I get answers when just speaking about it could get me killed? I flipped the page of my book hard enough to tear the page. Why couldn't that blasted Reaper show up again?

The library door creaked as it opened. I closed the book, keeping my finger between covers to mark my place and twisted to see who was disturbing my peace since the only people left in the palace were indolent ladies-in-waiting and servants. Astreia swept by my chair and settled on the ottoman in front of me, pushing my feet out of her way.

"I'm still angry at you."

That's how this was going to go? I ignored her, opened my book, and pretended to read. Astreia let out a long sigh, and another still when I did not look up. She shoved my legs hard enough they fell off the furniture, jerking me upright in my chair.

I glared at her. "May I help you?"

"You're really going to be snippy with me?" the princess gasped, her hand fluttering to the generous cleavage on display.

"I really don't like this version of you," I snapped. "You mock girls who act like this."

"Well, excuse me," she said. "Perhaps I feel a bit betrayed. It's only been seven days since I found out you want to bed my betrothed."

Accustomed to her language, I said, "You and I both know you're not jealous."

"Ew, disgusting." Astreia shuddered. "Of course not. Besides the fact that I now have to reevaluate our friendship because of your questionable taste in men, I'm most bothered by the fact you've kept it a secret from me. Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"And when exactly when was I supposed to tell you? While you were listing Prince Tievel's many faults? Describing how terrible it would be to kiss him? Or maybe I should have blurted it out to you on the day they announced your betrothal? I didn't tell you because it doesn't matter. How I feel means nothing."

At some point my explanation turned to a tirade. An unwelcome heat burned in my eyes, and my hands trembled. I continued to stare at the book, hoping she didn't notice, but a moment later, she slid into the small space beside me in the chair. Her arms looped around my neck, and she pressed her nose against my shoulder, placing a soft kiss on my dress.

"I'm not opposed to sharing him, you know," she said in a wicked whisper. "I've never thought of crossing that line with you, mostly because I ruin every romantic entanglement, and you're worth far too much to me. But I'm fairly certain Tievel would be open to the idea. I see how he looks at you."

I chuckled, not completely averse to the idea, but the truth of what I was stopped me from playing along. If Astreia only knew that there was a real secret I was keeping, she would never offer such an arrangement.

"I'd like to think there's someone out there for me who I won't have to share," I said, sliding from her embrace. "Call me old-fashioned like that."

"If you change your mind..." she winked. "I shall certainly partake in multiple affairs as soon as I've produced the required offspring."

Astreia spoke with her usual teasing, but beneath it was a sadness that went bone deep. Uncertain what to say in response, I set my book aside and pulled her in for a second hug. We clung to one another without speaking for a long time, letting the silence heal the rift between us, and when we separated, she dabbed at the tears in her eyes before they could fall.

"How was the procession?"

"Long, and whatever luck the sunshine might have brought us was gone by the time we reached Friedesh."

"What do you mean?"

"Everything was fine at first, but someone shouted and called King Lucian the Curse Bringer. That's particularly powerful language for Friedesh, since they have a history dealing with curses. Queen Thera stepped up to hush them, and a Pixie tossed a basket of rotten fruit at her. All Realms broke loose then."

I clapped a hand over my mouth, suddenly sad I missed such a spectacle, but any humor I found in the story faded as I realized the very real consequences of such an act. Astreia's light dimmed, and she glanced at the dark fireplace.

"Needless to say, we left quickly. They left a band of Wardens behind to handle things."

She didn't need to explain how things would be handled. We both knew what that meant. She rose from the chair and smoothed the wrinkles from her navy blue riding skirts.

"W-where's Tievel?" I asked, afraid the question would damage the scab over the wound between us, but desperately needing to know.

"As the new heir apparent, he accompanied King Brinley to the burial chamber. They're the only ones allowed to be there for the last rights, but that was nearly two hours ago. He may be back."

"Thank you," I whispered.

"Of course. I think he will only cause you hurt in the end, but I know what it is like for your heart to want what it shouldn't."

She parted, and I tidied up the library before heading to my room. Evening bells tolled in the city across the eyot, and I hastened my steps. The king's violent end resulted in a stricter curfew. Everyone had to be inside with their doors locked before the bells stopped ringing. There were always those within the palace who sought to curry favor by wagging their tongues, and there were many who would like to see me put in my place.

I made it to the servant's quarters in record time, but slowed down when my door came into view. Slumped against the dark mahogany was someone who had no business there.

"Tievel," I hissed, forgetting myself and running to his side.

"Where have you been?" he asked accusingly, raising a tear-stained face.

"I was in the library."

"Reading more of that naughty novel?" He aimed for a teasing tone, but it fell flat through the tears.

"Perhaps. Are you all right?"

His cruel mouth twisted into something terrible. "He did die. Like he was no better than the peasants across the bridge."

It took a great effort to say nothing in response to such arrogance. Instead, I helped him to his feet, nearly gagging on the stench of Kanna and Goblin wine that wafted from his person. Splotches of deep plum stained the pillowy, white cravat at his neck, and something unidentifiable was smeared across his double-breasted vest. A mere two hours ago, he would have been impeccably dressed for the last rights of his grandfather, but I wasn't so foolish to believe he wasn't capable of self-destruction in less time than that.

Holding him around the waist with one arm, I unlocked my door and shoved him inside before they caught us. A shifting shadow near the end of the hallway gave me pause as I shut the door, but the longer I stared at it, the more certain I was that it was an illusion formed by guilt.

Tievel made himself comfortable on my small bed. His still green hair fanned out over the feather pillow, and his long legs dangled over the end. The stained cravat lay in a heap on the floor next to his vest. The first four buttons of his cream linen shirt were undone, revealing a tangle of dark blue hair covering smooth skin the color of freshly turned earth.

My mouth went dry as I studied him, wondering if I'd ever seen him wear his hair to match. Strange, I'd never thought to ask if the hair on his body changed like the hair on his head, but my cheeks heated as I imagined his response to such a question. Likely, it would be an invitation to find out.

"What's going through that delectable mind of yours?" he asked, cracking open an eye. The other popped open, both glittering with interest as they took in the pink state of my face.

Hands on hips and voice rough with desire that I hoped passed for irritation, I replied, "Just trying to figure out how to get you out of here and back to your room without being caught."

"Or," he propped himself up on his elbow, "you could come over here and remind me what it means to be alive."

Folding my arms over my breasts, I gaped at him. "How am I ever supposed to take anything you say seriously? Did you not apologize to me earlier for this kind of behavior?"

He fell back onto the pillow and huffed. "Yes, I recall saying something along those lines, but I also remember saying I think about doing it again."

"You are drugged and drunk, and I am but a servant. No more than one of those mortal peasants across the bridge. We will both be glad for my restraint in the morning."

"B-but you are nothing like them," he insisted, jumping up and catching the bedpost to steady him before reaching for me. "You're special."

"I die like everyone else. For your kind, that makes me nothing."

Tievel snarled. "Apparently, we die like everyone else, too. Why did it have to be my grandfather? Why not my father?"

Anger abating, I took his arm and helped him sit down again, then promptly scooted to the end of the bed so our bodies did not touch. Tears slid down his face, wetting the dark tracks on his cheeks until they shimmered like the blue in his eyes.

"He was the only person besides you who saw me as me. Not as a specimen of good breeding or as a tool. I was just Tievel... and now he's gone."

"Tievel," I said, pressing my hand over his and curling my fingers around his palm. I wished desperately to tell him I understood what it was to not be seen, but I could never trust him with such information. Especially not now. He would see me as the person who took away the single light in his life.

"And you wish to be rid of me too," he whispered, turning to face me. "What will I do when you're gone? I shall be trapped with all of them. A wife who despises me and a father who uses me. Can I tell you a secret?"

He had drifted closer while talking. The thick lock of hair always dangling over his forehead fell between us, creating a thin, green barrier. It was the only reason our lips did not brush together when I replied.

"Anything."

"I hope the Hunt does not find the Reaper or the Deathsinger. I would be glad to see my father die. I think I might join them, and if I find her, I will hide her away for that day."

The Hunt. I'd almost forgotten about it. It was foolish considering what I now believed to be true. I didn't even know how they identified women as Deathsingers, but it could not be a simple task or else I'd already have been discovered.

Tievel's eyes held mine. I brushed back the lock of hair and asked, "And if you get your wish? Then what?"

Closing the space between us, he kissed me. It was soft and just long enough to steal my breath. Pulling back, he ran his finger along my jaw and over my lips as if considering another. Then he dropped his hands and stood, stumbling to my door. Opening it a sliver, he peered down the hallway.

"Tievel, then what?" I demanded, but he left without answering.