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  “What? What do you want?” he asked, his voice shaking with terror.

  “No sleep,” the man said brokenly in our language, his accent so thick he was barely understandable. “Rafe.” He pointed behind himself at the biggest tent.

  I started at the name — I’d heard it before. But I couldn’t remember where.

  After a moment, a man strode out of the tent into the dimming light. He looked vaguely familiar for some reason, but I couldn’t place him. He was of medium height and build, dressed in a very fine tunic and breeches, with tall boots.

  When he turned to face Jax and I got a good look at his face, I sucked in a sharp breath. He looked almost exactly like Vera — only a male version. The same shade of hair, the same mouth, even the same fluid way of moving. I wasn’t close enough to see, but I guessed his eyes were the same as well. Only his nose was noticeably different, a bit more angular than hers. Her brother, then — he had to be. Possibly even her twin. My heart leaped into my throat and adrenaline coursed through my body, demanding that I do something. But I was trapped, unable to do anything other than watch in helpless fury and confusion as this man — Rafe — sauntered over to where Jax sat.

  “No, please, not again,” Jax said when Rafe crouched down so his face was level with Jax’s. The boy squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face away.

  Rafe grabbed Jax by the chin and yanked his face back. “Look at me, boy,” he said in perfect Antionese, his voice as cloying as Vera’s but with that same thread of command underlying the soft tones. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk.”

  “I’m not talking to you!” Jax shouted, still keeping his eyes tightly shut. My heart pounded in my chest as I bent forward. Why was Jax afraid to look at him?

  “If you don’t look at me, I might have to make one of my men cut your eyelids off. Then you’ll have no choice but to look into my eyes.”

  Jax’s eyes flew open, his body trembling, and Rafe laughed.

  “Much better,” Vera’s brother said. “Now tell me, young Jax. Who is this sorcerer that the king has working for him?”

  “I … I don’t want to —”

  “Tell me,” Rafe repeated, more forcefully.

  “Eljin,” Jax said, the fight going out of him. “His name is Eljin.”

  “And he’s from Blevon?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is he a black sorcerer?”

  “No. They don’t have any black sorcerers in Blevon.”

  “Ah yes,” Rafe said, nodding. “Their ridiculous beliefs. I always forget about those quaint superstitions. Well, that only makes my job that much easier.”

  Jax tried to turn his head, but Rafe’s grip on his chin tightened, keeping the boy’s eyes trained on him.

  “And Alexa? Is she a sorceress?”

  “No,” Jax said.

  “What is she — how is she such a masterful fighter? How was she able to kill a black sorcerer?”

  Jax tried to pull away again, but Rafe shouted, “Tell me!” and the fight went out of him again.

  “Mama believes that her father was a sorcerer and that she inherited her skills from him. But mostly she just trains really hard.”

  I could hear the hero worship in his voice, even now, and it made something deep in my chest clench. I knew he was scared, but I wished he wouldn’t answer Rafe’s questions quite so readily. What else had Vera’s brother gotten out of the boy?

  One of the other men walked over to them, speaking rapidly in their language, and Rafe stood up with a look of irritation on his handsome face. They spoke back and forth heatedly for a moment, and then Rafe turned back to Jax.

  “We’ll have to continue this delightful discussion a little bit later. Someone give him some water; we can’t have him dying before it’s time.” When no one else moved, he threw his hands up in the air and said something in their language, his irritation obvious.

  One of the men ran off and brought back a small cup of water for Jax, lifting it to his lips. After Jax took a long drink, the man pulled the cup away and dumped the rest over the boy’s head, drenching his hair. Indignation burned through me. I wanted so badly to go down there, to cut my way through them all and save Jax before they could hurt or humiliate him any further.

  But instead, I sat stiffly on my branch, my hands balled into fists. I hoped Rylan had made it back to the palace and gotten the help we needed. “Hurry, Rylan,” I whispered under my breath, as though he could somehow hear my plea from across the space between us. “Please, hurry.”

  I’d forgotten about the monkey until it suddenly swung down in front of me. I jumped back in shock, scaring it in the process, causing it to nearly lose its grip on the branch. The monkey clung on at the last second, but it broke a smaller shoot with its foot, causing a loud crack.

  The activity below paused at the sound, and all eyes suddenly turned in my direction.

  I FROZE, MY BLOOD pumping through my veins. The humidity and my own sharp fear made my hands slick as I clung to the bark, my heart crashing against my lungs, stealing my breath.

  Rafe said something in their language, pointing at my tree, and a few of the men pulled out swords and began to stalk forward. It was dark enough that they probably couldn’t see me hiding on my branch — yet. But I wasn’t dressed to blend in at night; I still wore the uniform of the king’s guard: a white tunic, my dark vest, breeches, and boots.

  I stiffened, preparing to fight. This was it — they were going to find me, and I’d have no choice but to try and cut my way through them and get to Jax before they could do something to him. I was good, but the odds were not in my favor.

  Then the monkey shocked me by dropping down another two branches and chattering loudly at the men.

  They paused and started to laugh, their attention on the monkey. One of them called something over his shoulder, and Rafe shook his head, turning away with a look of disgust on his face. The soldiers resheathed their swords and walked back to camp, leaving me trembling on my branch.

  The monkey swung back up toward me, pausing for a moment to look at me and then moving on, continuing to climb higher into the tree.

  “Thank you,” I whispered to my little friend. That monkey had probably just saved my life — and Jax’s.

  * * *

  Rafe sat down near the fire, watching his men rush around as they prepared a late dinner. He’d occasionally say something to them, and they’d hurry to do his bidding. I wished I understood Dansiian, because I had no idea what was being said. Jax also watched them work with longing on his face as the scent of roasted meat wafted through the heavy air of night. I glanced up at the darkening sky to see clouds tumbling across the navy expanse, just as I’d predicted. To the west, there were still streaks of crimson and burnt orange, dying flames of light before the sun relinquished her throne to the lesser reign of the moon.

  A commotion below me drew my attention back to the camp to see a familiar man striding toward Rafe. I squinted through the darkness, trying to figure out who he was. When he stopped in front of Rafe, the firelight danced across his face, and I realized it was Felton, Lady Vera’s “runner” — who had come ahead of her to announce her arrival to King Damian. What was he doing here?

  He said something in Dansiian as well, but Rafe replied in Antionese. “Don’t speak our language. I don’t need these imbeciles listening to what you have to say.”

  “What about the boy?” Felton switched languages, nodding at Jax.

  “There’s no need to worry about him.” Rafe walked over to Jax, who scrambled back and tried to turn his head away again. But just as before, Rafe grabbed his face and forced him to turn toward him. “You won’t tell anyone what you hear tonight,” he said forcefully. “Right, you little half blood?”

  “No, I won’t,” Jax repeated, his voice toneless and his shoulders sagging.

  Rafe gripped his face for a moment longer and then pushed him away with a grunt of disgust, sending Jax sprawling on the ground. “See? No need for co
ncern.”

  Felton nodded, eyeing Jax warily as the boy struggled to right himself without the use of his hands. Outrage burned through my gut, but I forced myself to remain still, my fingers digging into the branch until I felt one of my fingernails tear on the bark.

  Rafe gestured for Felton to follow him a little way out of the camp, closer to me. I stiffened, holding myself perfectly still on my branch, hoping they wouldn’t look up — praying my monkey friend stayed silent.

  “What news from the palace?” Rafe asked, continuing to speak in Antionese.

  “The deception went off without a hitch. The palace is completely out of sorts, trying to figure out who to blame for the poisoning, while still dealing with the attacks on the outer villages. Everyone believes our taster’s body has disappeared, just as you said they would.”

  “Of course they did. I told you the potion would work. Someday you might learn to believe me.”

  “Of course, my lord, of course,” Felton said quickly, bowing low, almost as if he was groveling before Vera’s brother. And it suddenly dawned on me: If he truly was her brother, this meant Rafe might be next in line to become the duke of Montklief, who apparently held a position of extreme power in the kingdom of Dansii. The thought sent a chill down my spine.

  “You should have seen the look on the boy’s face when I opened my eyes and stood up.” Rafe laughed, a cruel sound, full of malice. “He’s obviously never seen someone come back from the dead before.”

  Felton joined in with his laughter. Dismay spiraled into horror, turning my stomach sour as it all clicked into place. Rafe had been the taster. That’s why I recognized the name but couldn’t place it. He’d told me his name was Rafe, but since I’d thought him dead, I hadn’t bothered to remember it. I dredged up the memory of the cowering waif of a man in the kitchen, trying to reconcile it with the person standing below me. He’d had a beard and he’d slumped his shoulders. Even his voice had been soft, subservient. Rafe was apparently as good an actor as Damian. And he’d refused to look up at me — probably because he knew I’d recognize his eyes, even if he’d disguised his face with the beard.

  How did he pull it off and why? Why fake his own death? I couldn’t imagine how terrified Jax must have been when Rafe had “woken up” and grabbed the boy, fleeing the palace amidst the chaos into the jungle under the cover of night. Had the kidnapping been part of the plan all along?

  The memory of Damian kissing Vera made me even sicker now. Would he still hold her, gaze at her with such passion in his eyes, if he knew her brother was the one who had kidnapped Jax?

  “And the king? What progress there?”

  “Things started off a bit rocky, but with Alexa gone all day, Vera has been very successful in engaging the king’s affections.” Felton sounded pleased to report this, but it made my heart turn to lead.

  “Gone?” Rafe repeated sharply. “What do you mean, gone? Where is she?”

  Felton backed away hastily. “I d-don’t know. We assumed she was sent out on duty or searching for the boy.” His voice trembled, and he stumbled back again when Rafe advanced on him.

  “You assumed? You never assume anything!” Rafe reached out and snatched Felton’s tunic, yanking him closer. “Our entire plan hinges on her.”

  “Yes, milord, I know. I — I will find her as soon as I return. I p-promise. Please don’t punish me.” Felton’s begging was almost too pitiful to watch; he looked like he was at least twice Rafe’s age. “She won’t leave the king for long.”

  “You’re certain of that?” Rafe still gripped Felton’s tunic, making the other man tremble with fear. Why was everyone so afraid of him? He wasn’t large, and he didn’t seem particularly frightening. But Felton was cowering before him and stuttering like he was completely terrified.

  “Y-yes, milord. It’s common knowledge throughout the palace that she has feelings for the king. She rarely leaves his side.”

  “Until today,” Rafe pointed out angrily. “And you didn’t think to find out why?”

  “I — I was trying to —”

  “That is enough,” Rafe said, his voice quiet all of a sudden, and Felton immediately fell silent. “I must know where Alexa is at all times — I can’t risk losing her. In penance for your mistake …” Rafe trailed off for a moment, as though considering. Then, with a cruel laugh, he continued, “Ah yes, I know.”

  Felton shook his head violently, his eyes widening in terror, but he didn’t protest.

  “You will go to the fire and put your left hand in it. Leave it there until the pain is unbearable. You may then pull it back out.”

  Felton made a small sound of dismay, but I watched in horrified fascination as he nodded and turned toward the fire. He was actually going to do it? It had to be some sort of test. To see how obedient he really was.

  Rafe trailed behind him, his arms crossed, watching the older man make his way to where the fire burned, red hot, the deadly flames a glowing beacon in the darkness. I bent forward on my branch, straining to see through the black night.

  Felton stopped before the fire and knelt down. I watched his shoulders rise and fall once, as though he’d taken a deep breath. And then he shoved his left hand forward, straight into the flames.

  I clapped my fingers over my mouth to keep from crying out in shock. Felton stiffened at first, and then his body began to shake, and still he kept his hand in the fire. After a few moments, his head flung back and he began to scream, howling in agony, and still he kept his hand shoved into the flames.

  “Stop it!” Jax shrieked hoarsely. “Make him stop!”

  But Rafe just laughed. He watched Felton’s suffering and he laughed.

  Just when his screams of agony had grown so horrible that I was considering shooting him through the head to put him out of his misery, Felton yanked his hand out of the fire and collapsed on the ground, his body convulsing. Hot acid rose in my throat as the scent of burned flesh drifted to where I balanced, staring at the scene in shocked horror. In the darkness, and from my vantage point, it was hard to see the damage, but his hand appeared black and red, probably oozing blood.

  Rafe continued to laugh and then shouted something in Dansiian. The other men, who had all watched the event with rounded eyes, stiffened to alertness. One of them came forward and bent to help Felton stand. Rafe continued to speak in Dansiian as the man helped Felton into a tent. The others stared at him with terror written on their faces and then jumped into activity when he finished speaking and sat down, completely at ease.

  One of them brought Rafe a plate with some sort of meat and fruit on it, which he immediately began to eat, as though nothing had happened. Another man took a tiny portion of food to Jax.

  Jax was huddled into himself, tears running down his face, his shoulders trembling. When the man put the plate down in front of him, Jax turned away, ignoring it. I didn’t blame him; I was so revolted after witnessing whatever it was that had just taken place, there was no way I would have been able to eat, either.

  It was impossible for Felton to have done that out of blind obedience. His instinct for survival, for relief, would have overcome any desire to obey Rafe. He’d somehow been forced to do what Rafe told him to do.

  My mind whirled, trying to piece together the puzzle. Was Rafe some sort of sorcerer? Was there a type of magic that made a person able to control others with just his words? But neither Damian nor Eljin had sensed a sorcerer in the convoy — and Rafe had been in the palace. At least in the beginning.

  There had to be something else, something we were missing. He could control people somehow. That was the only answer — the only way I could explain what I’d just witnessed.

  Then I remembered Jax refusing to look into his eyes, trying to turn his head away. Maybe it was a combination — his words and his eyes — that forced others to do whatever he wanted. Maybe that was why he was so sure Jax wouldn’t tell anyone what he heard, because he’d commanded him not to.

  Then a new thought occurred to me,
one that made my blood turn to ice in my veins and my heart drop as though it had turned to stone beneath the trappings of skin and bone.

  If Rafe could control someone to the degree I had just witnessed by looking into his eyes and saying a few words — what could his sister do?

  The scene from the garden this morning took on new meaning to me, and sudden panic nearly overwhelmed me.

  Damian. That’s why he’d seemingly fallen for her so quickly.

  Vera was controlling the king.

  I SAT TREMBLING ON the branch for a long time after watching Felton destroy his own hand, my body thrumming with shock. That had to be the answer — the reason why she’d wanted to see him alone, so there were no witnesses when she commanded him to kiss her. Was it possible to command someone to fall in love with you? To forget your feelings for someone else?

  My stomach burned from the bitterness churning in it. I had to get back to Damian. I had to warn him — to stop Vera. But how? How did I break her control over him? I didn’t know if it was even possible. And that would also mean leaving Jax here, completely alone with a madman.

  Everything inside of me felt clenched, seeking rebellion against my helplessness. Suddenly, I remembered the soldiers who had shown up at the palace and attacked Damian. The strange emptiness in their eyes and how confused the man had been just before he died.

  It was beginning to make sense now — though I still didn’t understand what they were hoping to accomplish. That had to have been Rafe’s work — he’d sent them and forced them to attack us, and they hadn’t been able to stop, or even realize what they were doing, until they were dying. He was definitely framing Blevon. But the biggest question was why.

  If I left Jax to try and save Damian, would they keep him safe? Or would Rafe turn his malice on the boy?

  Damian still had until sunrise a day from now to turn me in and get Jax back. They couldn’t kill him before then, I reasoned. But with a sickening twist in my gut, I realized that alive didn’t necessarily mean unharmed. Rafe had laughed at Felton’s agony. He’d found amusement — even satisfaction — in making his own man suffer. What if he turned that malevolence on Jax?