I stood shirtless before a mirror that hung over a shallow marble washbasin in my chamber and ran wet hands through my hair, strands catching on the iron bands that still circled my wrists. I stared at my reflection, silver eyes burning with a feverish glaze over bruised half-moons. My cheeks were gaunt. My reflection mirrored how I felt—brittle, like a bowstring, wound tight enough to snap.

A knock sounded from the sitting room.

I didn’t bother to answer. While I was no longer locked in a dungeon cell, I was no less a prisoner. And prison guards do not require an inmate’s consent to enter their cell.

After a moment, my chamber door opened. In the mirror, I watched a greasy head pass across the threshold. “Well,” I purred to hide the ice spreading through my veins, “am I to finally have the audience I’ve requested?”

The Imperial looked me over with a sneer. “You’re wanted in the great hall.”

Beyond his appearance, even his bearing brought to mind rats scavenging in some dark sewer. But the insignia on his tunic . . . this was not some simple grunt.

A smug grin spread across thin lips as he took in my weighing stare. “I’ve heard you Myridians have strange tastes. I hope you’re not getting any ideas . . .”

Despite my frayed nerves, I laughed. As if this weasel could tempt any Myridian. Even Peleus—who held the most diverse tastes by far—wouldn’t touch this piece of shit. Not if his life depended on it. But, I had little choice but to follow wherever he led. Who knew? The gods might actually answer prayers, for once, and he might lead me to Aurora. So, I gritted my teeth and grabbed a simple white shirt from where it hung on the back of a nearby chair. Pulling it over my wet hair, I pushed past him, into the sitting room and then into the hall beyond. My feet carried me—I hoped—to Aurora.

I strolled to the center of the large chamber that was the true heart of the Celestial City. But unlike the usual wild abandon of the feasts, this day found the hall ordered, subdued. Priestesses stood throughout the room, watching me with clear disdain. The hiss of their whispers echoed off the cold stone. It seemed this wasn’t a gathering of Doria’s most powerful females, but a den of snakes.

And yet, their normally beautiful faces were lined with worry, the stench of fear stronger than their perfumes. The High Priestess turned away from her own susurrant circle. Her blue gaze flitted from me to the guard at my back. And what I saw in her gaze . . . A jolt ran through me. It was something that I might have called relief.

Whatever that fleeting emotion was, she replaced it in an instant.

The air in the room contracted. All went silent. Then booted steps sounded.

The High Priestess’s attention moved to the doors behind me and her features settled in an indifferent mask. She sank into a low curtsy, face lowered to the ground. The other priestesses quickly followed her example.

I summoned all the cavalier indifference I’d perfected during the years spent at my father’s court. “Adresto . . . how thoughtful of you to join us.”

His gaze was cold—so much like the feel of the iron fetters—as it dug into my spine.

“Aidoneus. How well you look. It’s wonderful to see your health so restored.”

I turned. And my blood froze. Though it seemed impossible, he looked even younger than he had at the Trial. He smiled at my searching gaze. “I’ve heard you claimed a diety healed you . . . Well, shouldn’t we all be so lucky to have such a guardian.”

I smirked, baring my teeth to match his grin. “Perhaps we both have someone looking out for us.”

His smile turned sharp, and I knew this was the closest anyone had come to calling out his change directly. “We shall see the truth of that,” he said, “though I expect your own protection might be withdrawn sooner than you think.”

That had my flippant expression faltering. Worry spread cancerous fingers through my gut. Aurora wasn’t here. Why wasn’t she here?

Adresto chuckled—a cat pleased to find the mouse at claw’s reach—and turned away. He motioned for the priestesses to stand.

The stout High Priestess struggled to her feet, hair floating around her face in a halo of frizzled curls. “Majesty . . . My lord,” she said with the slightest of glances in my direction. “Please, take a seat.” She gestured behind her to brocaded chairs.

The Emperor and I both remained where we were. “I mean no disrespect,” I said, “but I’d hear what you have to say and be done with it. I have little patience for meaningless formality.”

Her eyes flashed between us. “I—”

Anger and fear poured from the palace steps beyond. Its tang trembled through the Ether. With it flowed the scent of brine and the stench of days spent at sea.

Varian burst through the doors like a hurricane battering the shore. “What’s happened?” he demanded before he’d made it more than a few steps into the hall. “I came as soon as I—”

His eyes landed on me and he stopped dead.

“Made port?” I asked with a bitter smile.

His face was chalk-white. The look of one who’d seen a ghost.

“Surprised my heart still beats, old friend?” I asked with a wink. “Though Aurora certainly seems pleased that it does.”

The shock melted from his face. He rushed toward me, a sound more animal than man ripping from his throat. The Emperor caught him by the shoulder and held him. “There will be time for that later,” he said into his son’s ear.

Adresto turned expectant eyes towards the High Priestess, whose ruddy face had paled. Bangle-encircled hands fidgeted before her. They clanked together loudly, filling the expectant silence. “I assume you called us here for a reason,” he said. “Explain yourself, Sibyl.”

Color returned to her cheeks in a deep flush. “My apologies, Majesty, but this is of grave importance. It concerns Aurora.”

My heart dropped into my stomach. She'd gone to the temple. What trouble had she found there?

Varian and I spoke in tandem: “Where is she?”

Varian’s scowled. I ignored him. “Where is she?” I repeated.

Sibyl’s eyes moved between us. “I’m afraid there was an incident . . .”

They’d locked her in the highest stone tower in the city. One spelled to keep Korai—who Sibyl claimed had a predisposition for madness—contained. This was for her own protection, the High Priestess said. For everyone’s protection.

Elysa, as the daughter of the moon goddess, was a natural insomniac. As the story went, she’d been strolling through the palace, as was her nightly habit, when she’d met Aurora. Aurora had been disturbed, raving, and wild. Elysa tried to calm her, but her efforts had provoked her sister instead. She’d attacked Elysa, burning the younger Korai’s face badly.

“Elysa is in the infirmary now,” the High Priestess said, finishing her story. “But without Aurora coherent enough to heal her . . . The other healers fear Elysa will bear the scars forever.”

Adresto’s frown was deep. He had released his grip on his son and his hands were fisted at his sides. “Then it’s imperative that we conclude the Trials as quickly as possible. Aurora’s magic must be tied to a male strong enough to control it.”

Varian ate up every word.

Then, they informed us of their decision. A decision Aurora had already known they'd made before this incident. The last Trial would come with the dawn. Enough time for Varian to rest from his voyage. Not enough time for me to recover any semblance of strength. Or so they hoped.

The oily guard led me out of the great hall. Adresto was already gone, no doubt eager to return to whatever slave was chained to his bed. Varian stayed behind to share a few urgent words with the High Priestess. I slowed my steps and waited for him to catch up.

“You know,” I called when he neared, “you’ve stabbed me in the back before, figuratively speaking. And yet, it was still quite the shock when you finally did it literally.”

His jaw tightened. “Do you expect an apology?”

“No, but I do expect you to protect the female you claim to love.”

He stepped toward me until we stood eye to eye. “She healed you,” he said, low enough that only I could hear. “She begged me to allow it and I refused, but it seems she found a way. Whatever has happened to her now is your fault.”

“My fault . . . because she can’t handle her own power, or because your father has punished her?” My eyes narrowed. “Or is it something else . . . Some truth the Korai wasn’t meant to find?”

Varian looked away.

I held up my fettered wrists between us and he took a step back—was forced back by the frigid wrongness of the spelled iron. “I can’t do anything to help her. But you can.”

He pushed my arms down and bared his teeth. “I will help her,” he promised. “I will kill you in this next Trial and this will end. She will never have another worry.”

I threw back my head and laughed. “I’ve known her a handful of weeks and you’ve known her since she was a child. So how is it I understand her so much better?” I stepped closer, growling in his face. “Take her to Hyperion, and keep her inside the richest palace in the world, and you will kill her. Whether or not you ever touch her powers, you will kill her. And if you think your father will give you the choice not to use her, then you’re a greater fool than I thought.”

With all the speed and strength Ares’ blood gave him, he struck. My head snapped back, flashes of light and mottled black shadows dancing in my vision. My lip split and the taste of iron spilled across my tongue. He drew back a fist again, this time aimed at my gut. I blocked the blow, wrapping a hand around his wrist and reaching deep within for whatever magic could squeeze past the iron. All I managed was one darkly burning ember.

Blood coated the inside of my mouth. I smiled a crimson grin as I loosed that tiny kernel of power. It hit him and his hand dropped, numb, I knew. The color drained from his face in an echo of death’s waxy pallor.

The oily guard must’ve realized this exchange wouldn’t end well for the General Prince. Too late, the scrape of steel drew my attention. He slammed the blunt hilt of his blade into my side. If my ribs had still been broken, I likely would have passed out. Thanks to Aurora, I only doubled over, breathless.

“Eryx,” Varian said through his teeth, "return him to his chamber and make sure he doesn’t set a foot over the threshold until the Trial.”

The guard—Eryx—hooked a hand beneath my arm to drag me away, but I straightened as quickly as I could, throwing my head back to connect with his face. A lovely, wet crunch sounded. I grinned.

The men around Varian drew their blades, but my former friend just watched me with narrowed blue eyes.

“One more thing,” I said through the blood. “He’s drugged her. Just like he did your mother. That’s why she was ill after the First Trial. And if he did it once, what’s to stop him from doing it again?”

One guard moved to strike me, but Varian lifted a hand and he froze. “You lie. She’s still coming into her power. These things are just . . . unpredictable.”

“You know it’s the truth, just as you know I didn’t kill Leda or Soren.”

A vein ticked away at his temple. He watched me for a long moment, pupils widening. Then he turned away. He nodded at two of his flanking guards, who grasped me, one on each arm, and marched me in the opposite direction, toward the chamber that was my new prison cell.