It’s nothing the elder didn’t already know. “Is that what you were doing when you were caught by General Agard?”

The guard nods, frantic.

“When they were caught, an emissary of the council was also present,” Ivar reminds him. “And additional testimony confirms that Lord Larsen has been amassing weapons and⁠—”

“Yes, Counsel Agard. You have mentioned that several times already.” The council member looks gravely in my direction, and I’m almost tempted to commiserate with him about how fucking annoying my brother can be.

But I have places to be. “Have we at last met your burden of proof?” I ask, not bothering to hide my frustration toward the Twelve. It’s been a while since I’ve felt it necessary to show any kind of deference while seeking their audience.

The disrespect, luckily, is mutual.

“You have, in fact, provided enough evidence that Lord Larsen is attempting to seize power,” the elder concedes.

I nod once. My cape swirls as I spin on my feet and stalk down the great hall, Martia at my side. There isn’t much time, and House Larsen must be stopped. By now, Lord Larsen surely knows that his sabotage attempts were intercepted. He has no choice but to attack us, and when the battle starts, I’d rather be there with my soldiers.

I’d rather go make sure that Sofia is safe.

“However,” the elder says.

I freeze in my tracks, and so does Martia. We share a disbelieving glance. Before I turn around, I try to wipe from my face the desire to stab every single member. One by one. And make the others watch as they are being skewered themselves.

“Yes?” I growl.

“Do not assume, General, that we are unaware of your scheming. You did all you could to provoke Lord Larsen and the coup he is now enacting.”

“I did all I could to accelerate it,” I correct him, and I think I see the elder sigh. The one on his right is definitely rolling her eyes.

“Yes. And the council would like to state for the record that we do not approve of your methods.” A pause, during which I wonder for how long Ivar would bitch at me if I just beheaded all twelve members. If it’s less than a week, it might be worth it. “However, General, we must admit that once weighted against Lord Larsen’s, your actions are significantly less objectionable.”

I’d hate to make another premature departure, so I wait for him to finish his train of thought. When he doesn’t, I ask, “Does this mean that I can take my leave and go quash a fucking uprising?”

This time around, his sigh is obvious. Then a thin shriveled hand waves me away. “Please, sir.”

I make it to Lord Larsen just a few minutes after the battle has begun. Finding him and his son Gunner through the throng is easy; with a simple flick of my wrist, I rotate my sword until the tip of it is pointing in his direction. “We won’t go down without a fight,” he roars at me.

I tilt my blade.

Smile.

And murmur, “I was hoping you would say that.”

Chapter 22

THE FIRST Sofia

For the second time today, I wake up in Gabriel’s bed.

For the first, he’s all I can see when I open my eyes.

It’s too lovely a sight to question. I wait for the bleariness to melt away and take in the straight line of his nose, his white-blond hair, the little scars that cluster at the base of his jaw.

“Hey,” I say, wondering if everything that came before was just a dream. My smile is quick, effortless, little more than a reflex. It’s just that I’m so happy. Happy that he’s here, with his scent that always holds me. Even happier that he’s sitting on the edge of the mattress and looking down at me like I’m pretty and made of sea pearls. He runs his fingers down my hair with the same attention and precision a soldier would give to sharpening his sword, biceps flexing with every tiny movement. I can’t remember ever feeling this at peace.

And yet, there is a small furrow between his brows. “Are you okay?” I ask.

The question makes him laugh. “Are you okay, Sofia?”

“Of course. I just slept for…” How long did I sleep for? A lot, since it’s night. I must have, because we’re back to a regular High, and vicious currents swirl outside the window of his quarters. Not even a speckle of sunlight filters in, which means that⁠—

Everything returns to me at once.

The letter.

Lady Larsen.

The sirens.

“Shit.” I drag myself up to my elbows, heart going from nothing to a million beats per minute. “What happened? The filtration system, is it⁠—”

“Everything’s okay,” he says calmly, one large hand drifting to comb through the hair at my nape. “More importantly, you are okay.”

“But what happened? The lights went off, and⁠—”

“Lord Larsen tried to sabotage some of the life support systems. He planned to pump poisonous gasses through the air ducts, and we stopped his guards right as they started tampering with the filters. It’s all over, though. There’s nothing for you to worry about anymore.”

My eyes widen. Even soothed by his Alpha scent, I’m alarmingly awake. “Where is he? Lord Larsen, I mean.”

“I’m not sure.”

“Did he escape? Are you looking for him in the stronghold?”

“No.”

“Why?”

Gabriel’s smile widens. “My interest in him is null, at the moment. And I consider our matters settled.”

“Settled? How do you…?” Shit. Shit. I can’t believe how slow I am sometimes. “Is he dead?”

A simple satisfied nod.

“Did you kill him?”

“Slowly and painfully. His eldest son, too.”

I close my eyes. Cover my mouth with my palm. Find the courage to ask, “Where is Lennart? Did you…?”

“Kill him?” He chews on the inside of his cheek and gently pushes my hand away, finding my lower lip with his thumb. It’s clear that he’s having an excellent time. “No. Not yet, at least. I’m still debating what to do with him. Of course, you’ll have the final say.”

Thank the All-father, I think. But it hits me that I’m not experiencing the overwhelming relief I would have imagined. “Where do you have him?”

“Sofia.” He clucks his tongue. “Where did you leave those outstanding observational skills of yours?”

“What do you mean? I don’t understand what— Oh.”

The problem is, I like staring at Gabriel a little too much. That’s why I didn’t notice Lennart—who, obviously, is right there. Pale, frazzled, but not looking too bad for someone whose family was just stripped of centuries of power. He’s sitting calmly in the same chair Gabriel used last night, less than ten feet from us.

Except that the chair has changed colors. The upholstery used to be a solid blue-gray, and it has now darkened to a deeper purple.

Because it’s soaked in blood.

My stomach drops. I gasp as it dawns on me that Lennart is not sitting—he is pinned. Two very long, thin blades, both looking remarkably like the one Gabriel usually carries at his hip, travel through Lennart’s flesh. One is in his right thigh, the other in the left shoulder, and blood seeps from each wound, slow and steady. Paradoxically, it’s the swords that stave off blood loss: if they were to be removed, he’d need immediate medical attention or risk exsanguination.

And something tells me that Gabriel would not allow me to offer my healing services. Not tonight.

“Help.” Lennart’s voice is a trembling rattle. He breathes fast and shallow, pleading at me with bloodshot eyes. “Sof, you have to⁠—”

“Sofia doesn’t have to do anything, especially not to help a pathetic piece of shit who’s been hurting her for years.” Gabriel’s eyebrow lifts. “And what did we say about you talking without first being spoken to?”

Lennart closes his eyes in desperation, a soft whimper leaving his lips.

I turn to Gabriel. Despite everything I’ve heard about the general, I have never been afraid of him, not really. I’m not sure that fear is the right name for what I’m feeling now either. All I know is that something is happening, and I cannot comprehend it. “Gabriel,” I whisper, “what are you doing?”