“I know every dialect spoken on Dakkar,” I informed him carefully, wary now. “I’ve never heard that word before. Aralye.”

The male’s lips curled. The small, mocking grin made my knees nearly buckle.

“Perhaps it’s one I made up” was all he replied.

Something in my gut told me he was dangerous. Despite his beauty, I knew I needed to get away from him and fast.

“Thank you for your help,” I rushed out quickly, tucking the book close to my chest. A gust of wind funneled down from the Spine—the main road that cleaved the city of Dothik into two separate halves. The wind spread its fingers across the marketplace and briefly blew back the shadowed curtain of my hair. “But I must be going.”

The skinned flesh on my knees gave an aching protest when I pivoted away, but then I felt a warm, strong, sudden hand clamp down on my forearm. The stranger turned me back to him, his eyes utterly trained on me. Focused. The hairs on the back of my neck rose, a sensation I knew all too well.

Frozen, I watched as his hand flashed forward, sweeping back the hair from my left cheek to expose the scar there.

I watched as his lips pressed together. Shock? Disgust? I knew what he saw—a flesh-colored scar resembling the wild roots of a tree, beginning at my left temple and curling down my cheek, slashing through one eyebrow.

“Who are you really?” he rasped, the edge of his words sharp and dangerous like a blade.

Wrenching myself away with strength that surprised even me, I blew out a sharp breath, unable to shield my glare. He’d left a black smudge on me in the wake of his palm.

Not answering, I took a step back. Then another, clutching the book I’d spend my evening painstakingly cleaning after the feast. The male never moved, and I felt like prey.

When there was enough distance between us, I turned on my heel and fled.

I felt his eyes on me until I reached the Spine. When I made it to the Dothikkar’s palace, only then could I breathe again.

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Chapter 2KLARA

“Stop fussing, Klara,” Dannik ordered, though amusement curled in his tone. He slid into the empty space beside me, tucking his shoulder against the column of the open window. “You don’t have a hair out of place.”

I huffed out a sharp breath, and my hand dropped away from my head, from where I’d been nervously smoothing down my hair. “That’s not⁠—”

“The guards said you were down in the western market today,” he said, cutting me off, bumping my shoulder with his arm. “Why’d you go there?”

I shot my brother a sharp look. “You had me followed?”

“It’s the shadow moon” was all he replied, shrugging one shoulder, as if that would answer my question. And well…it did.

“Then you’ll know I was with Sora. I’d been in the archives all morning, I wanted to get some air before this tonight,” I explained, waving a hand before us.

We were tucked against the far window of our father’s grand throne room. I could hardly hear my own thoughts with all the chatter, music, and laughter, a headache starting to bloom behind my right eye.

There was an edge to my brother tonight. More guards were in the throne room for this celebration than for any other throughout the year. Even the laughter of the guests seemed louder, more forced.

Perhaps we were all trying to pretend that dragons wouldn’t land at the East Gate any moment, if they hadn’t already.

Across the room, I spotted the Laseta Kalliri—the high priestess of Dothik. She was watching me across the crush of bodies, and I pressed my lips together, inclining my head in respect. Then I looked away swiftly, telling myself to relax my shoulders and to smile softly at no one at all, like I was enjoying the merriment of the gathering, like I was at ease with her piercing eyes on me. Like I had nothing to hide.

Out of the corner of my eye, I waited until she turned her back, speaking with a male I recognized as a powerful merchant, and I blew out a steady, slow breath through my lips.

“What is it?” Dannik asked.

“Nothing,” I said, turning to him with a small grin.

My brother frowned, his golden eyes cutting to the Laseta Kalliri before fastening back on me. His lips parted, but before he could say anything, a guard approached.

“Rukkar, your father is requesting your presence on the dais,” he said. Prince, he’d called Dannik. His proper title.

A jolt went through my belly, a spear of disappointment cutting through me.

“Come,” Dannik ordered me, grabbing my hand.

The guard said, with evident hesitation, “Only you. The Dothikkar made it clear.”

He stared down the guard, who was a head shorter than him, until the other male dropped his gaze to the floor.

“It’s all right,” I told him, pressing my fingers to the back of his scarred hand. “Go.”

Dannik’s gaze cut to mine. I hadn’t expected to see the burn of anger there.

“There is always defeat in your eyes, sister,” he told me, cupping my cheeks in his warm palms. “I wish you would fight more for what is yours by blood.”

Then he released me. He turned away while I struggled to swallow the sudden shame in my throat. I was alone again, watching my brother spear through the crowd, which parted for him like curtains in the morning, welcoming the dawn.

That was what he was for Dothik. It was common knowledge he was my father’s favored heir, though my half sister, Alanis, was his firstborn. My father was expected to step down from the throne in the coming years. A new rule would come. Dannik would likely be at the helm.

From my corner in the throne room, I watched my family rise together on the dais. My father, with his graying hair and unyielding green eyes; a pink, thin-lipped mouth; and ruddy, wrinkled cheeks. My stepmother was next to him, though she hated when I made any mention of that title. Instead, I called her Lakkari just like everyone else. Queen of Dothik. And my half siblings.

Alanis, with her waist-length blonde hair and black pyroki scales sewn to her clothes in a way that resembled armor—not unlike the male from the market, I noted. She had never warmed to me, thinking me nothing more than a bug beneath her boot, another competitor for the throne she coveted.

Lakkis, in all her ethereal beauty that left the guards’ tongues tied in her wake. My sister—while she’d always been kind to me—was still practically a stranger, an impenetrable wall I’d never been able to break through.

And Dannik, the unspoken heir to it all.

Together they made a pretty picture. The longing to join them on the dais burned so hot in my stomach it made nausea rise.

Across the room, my siblings’ mother caught my eyes. Her chin lifted, brow raising. The gold crown seated on her brow sparkled under the lights as the throne room quieted, eager to hear the Dothikkar’s welcoming speech.

This blatant rejection was growing more humiliating every year. I’d thought it would get better. It only ever got worse.

Leave, came the thought that had been surfacing more and more in recent months. Rent the little room we had above the tavern, and live as you please. Or return to the wildlands, where you remember Mother best, where we were happy.

But then I would truly be alone…and that scared me more than anything in this life. At least here, in this cold palace, I had Dannik.

The Lakkari’s serene smirk followed me out of the throne room when I fled, keeping to the outskirts of the room like a rodent, hoping that I drew no one’s eyes but hers.

Unfortunately, I felt the burn of dozens’ as I slipped through the door, the snickering whispers erupting in my wake.