Little more than a moment after I bid the Korai goodnight, my old enemy—and even older friend—dragged his would-be-bride into the shadows.

“You’re mad, Aidon,” Lux grumbled in my ear. His blue eyes—Dorian eyes—shifted warily across the unfriendly crowd. “This wasn’t part of the plan.”

And he was right. It wasn’t. Or, at least, it wasn’t meant to be.

The mission was simple—get in, get the Korai, and get out. The plan was years in the making and an alliance I desperately needed hinged on me delivering her—hale and unmated—to the exiled King of Livonia. He’d approached me with the offer shortly after the Korai’s sixteenth birthday, when he’d realized Varian had taken an interest in the prize he so coveted. So, in exchange for me delivering her to his doorstep, he swore to defend my own interests. And the interests of the entire Shardian Alliance—the only barrier that stood between Doria’s greed and the human lands.

But there was just one problem: an effective alliance would require a certain amount of parity. An alignment of interests as well as a balance of trust. And of power. But if the Korai could do what I thought she could? Well, letting the King have her would upset that precarious balance. Would tip the scales much too far in his favor.

And if Doria kept her, if Varian won her and claimed her gifts as his own? That was a thought too frightening to contemplate.

So, instead of mooring our ship beneath the city cliffs and sneaking in under night’s cover to take her—as I’d told the King, and my Seven, that I would—I’d surprised my friends, as well as a few hundred angry Dorians, when I insisted we walk right through the palace’s front doors.

Now, here I stood in the great hall, watching Varian and the Korai fade into the shadows. And while most of my Seven had quickly dispersed, to get a lay of the land and to settle our accommodations, Lux stood at my side and kept up his steady stream of complaints. “We shouldn’t be here. This decades-long pissing contest you have going with Varian is going to get us all killed.”

When the Korai had been hauled too far down the branching hall for my eyes to follow, I reluctantly slid my attention to Lux. “The First Trial is in the morning. Where else should we be?”

“Perhaps on our ship. With your sister. Where there aren’t any Dorians.”

I tried not to think of what Cassia—my half-sister and the final member of my Seven—would say. So, I cut him an amused grin instead. “Lux, you are a Dorian.” I clapped a hand on his shoulder. “But I don’t hold it against you.”

I glanced around the great hall and found more than a few pissed-off Dorian’s eyeing us closely. “Come on. Let’s get out of here before these pricks get any stupid ideas.”

The chaos spilling from the great hall proved we’d exited the feast with perfect timing. The party was devolving into the sort of filth I’d rarely even seen at seaside brothels, and I had little desire to witness more of Doria’s cruel forms of hedonism.

“They’ve assigned us chambers on the lowest level, on the eastern wall of the palace. The sea is so close, you can feel the spray from the balcony,” Dacian, the largest of my Seven, explained as we followed him down a marbled hall.

His wolfish yellow eyes ran warily over every twist and turn.

“Don’t approve of the palace, brother?” I asked with a low chuckle. “I know it’s a bit garish, but we’ve certainly stayed in worse places.”

He only grunted, large shoulders hunched as if these opulent halls were too small to contain him.

Lux sighed. “I’m telling you, boss, you’ve completely lost it this time.”

Again, Dacian grunted his agreement.

But before I could respond to their goading, sounds echoed down the hall. Voices were raised, shrill and furious. Feminine voices.

“Shit,” Dacian and Lux said in tandem.

I ran a hand through my hair and closed my eyes, sending up a brief prayer for patience. Shit, indeed.

When we reached our chamber, a small, white-robbed figure burst from the room and collided face first with my chest.

Blonde curls framed a pretty face that was flushed an angry, blood-red.

“In a hurry, priestess?” I asked as I steadied her with a hand beneath her elbow.

And was answered with a glob of spit aimed at my face.

“Go back to whatever pit in the Underworld you crawled out of, my lord,” the girl sneered as the viscous liquid ran down my cheek. “And take that gods-forsaken she-demon in there with you!”

She jerked out of my grip and I happily let her go.

On either side of me, Lux and Dacian shared a look heavy with barely contained amusement.

I wiped the saliva from my face and entered the chamber to find the rest of my Seven lounging on the plush settees scattered around the room. My eyes landed on Nerina, whose long, leather-clad legs were draped over the arm of one couch, a self-satisfied smile on her lips.

“Making friends, were you?” I asked with a raised brow. “Do I even want to know what that was about?”

She shrugged, sea-green eyes glowing with mischief. “I was only teaching her some manners,” she said with faux innocence. “It was a lesson she badly needed.”

“Clearly,” I said, scrubbing the last of the spit away.

Peleus—Nerina’s twin by blood, if not in temperament—poured me a glass of wine. “So, before the angry little priestess posts a spy outside our door,” he said as he handed me the goblet, “we should adjust our plans.”

Cadmus—our resident scholar—stood by the hearth, his dark face angled towards the flames. “A few days to study the layout of the city, then we grab the Korai. We’ll be home before the autumn equinox.”

Lux laughed darkly. “Boss?” he said, turning to me with a shake of his blond head. “Care to tell them the good news, or shall I?”

“News?” Dacian asked, a low growl rumbling from his broad chest. “What news?”

“Simple, really,” I purred, offering them each a smirk. “I meant what I m in the great hall. I am competing.” My grin widened as I took in their shocked faces. “And I mean to win.”