A thin pink trail followed behind me as I stepped out of the bathroom.

  Goosebumps rose across my bare skin in the cold bedroom air. Just a few more steps and I could reach the guard outside. I kept one hand pressed firmly to my throat, not trusting my magic fully despite everything. The spell held the torn flesh together somehow, but every heartbeat made it feel like it might unravel at any moment.

  I opened the door to a quiet corridor.

  A palace knight stood halfway down the hall, looking bored and relaxed. It was time to make his shift more exciting.

  He looked up at the sound of the door opening. His eyes met mine.

  His eyes widened slightly.

  I must have been a sight—a naked child with long pale hair and golden eyes that had a tendency to glow in the dark from excess magic. One hand pressed to my throat and nothing but rose petals for adornment.

  I would haunt his upcoming nights whether I survived or not.

  He seemed uncertain how to react. Perhaps my injury was not obvious.

  I lifted my hand from my throat and pointed at it. Then I made the gesture of a blade cutting across it. I didn’t snap my neck to complete the sign, afraid that might damage it further.

  He continued staring.

  Useless.

  I began walking toward him.

  Finally he reacted. Maybe he noticed the blood dripping slowly down my chest. Maybe he saw the trail of pink in my wake.

  He slammed his palm against an alarm trigger etched into the wall.

  Brilliant invention.

  Bells rang across the palace, the noise slamming into my skull.

  The golden lights along the corridor flared a harsh emergency red leading all the way from the central atrium.

  Doors opened one after another along the route.

  “Emergency protocol activated!” the knight shouted.

  I tried to keep myself upright.

  His gaze flicked behind me.

  Pink footprints trailed across the tile.

  He followed them with his eyes to the open door of my chamber.

  “You! Check the room,” he snapped to the second guard who had just come running around the corner.

  The second knight drew his sword and pushed past us.

  I leaned against the wall. The corridor tilted slightly.

  I focused on breathing through my nose.

  A moment later the second knight stepped back out.

  “There’s a maid inside,” he said.

  “Alive?”

  “Alive and secured.”

  More guards arrived from both directions, their boots striking the floor hard enough to make it difficult to remain steady.

  And then I saw Agnes.

  She came around the corner at a run.

  There was no slowing down with her.

  She shoved one of the knights aside and reached me in three large strides, catching my chin in one hand and turning my head toward the light.

  “Oh, you foolish child,” she muttered.

  Her fingers were warm and I relaxed at the familiar touch of her magic.

  Agnes lifted her eyebrows slightly.

  “You’ve been inventive,” she murmured.

  She did not remove the crude pressure spell I had built into the wound. Instead her magic slipped underneath mine into my tissues and vessels. Precise threads coaxed and guided them back where they belonged.

  The knife hurt less than this treatment.

  It took her only a couple of minutes to stitch my neck back together. The pain eventually faded into weariness and a dull ache somewhere deep in my chest.

  Agnes exhaled softly.

  “You nearly died,” she said.

  I raised my eyebrows and opened my eyes wide in my best mock apology.

  She snorted and wrapped a bandage around my throat.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  “No speaking tonight,” she informed helpfully.

  I wasn’t planning on it. I nodded.

  “Good.”

  Only then did she glance down the corridor floor.

  The pink trail led straight back into the room.

  “Check inside,” Agnes said.

  The guards exchanged a look.

  “We already did,” said the knight who had raised the alarm. “There’s a maid inside. Bound. We’re waiting for an escort to take her to the dungeon.”

  Papa arrived soon after, Rowan close on his heels.

  Finn nearly collided with them both when they stopped.

  Papa’s eyes found the bandage at my throat immediately.

  The atmosphere in the hallway darkened.

  “Mira—”

  “She will live,” Agnes said briskly before he could add worry that was useless now.

  Papa exhaled slowly, but Rowan only kept staring at the bandage.

  More knights arrived and made their way to my room’s bathroom. The scene inside provided all the clues they needed.

  Finn had the same panicked expression he had the first time he saw me do magic. Like his entire worldview had been toppled and he now had to build it back together.

  “What happened?” he demanded.

  I lifted my hand and drew a slicing motion across my throat.

  The knights came out holding the maid.

  “She did this?” Finn shouted, making a mad dash toward her.

  Rowan grabbed his arm before he could reach her.

  Papa turned to the girl.

  “Why?” he said.

  The maid swallowed.

  “My brother—she sacrificed him—”

  Agnes cut her off.

  “You will tell your sob story when questioned. Guards, take her.”

  Papa’s gaze flicked back to me.

  Finn crossed his arms tightly.

  The guards dragged her away a moment later, taking her down the corridor toward the lower levels of the palace.

  The red alarm lights dimmed and faded back to their normal amber glow.

  Agnes pressed two fingers lightly against the bandage.

  “You will not eat tonight,” she said.

  I blinked.

  “Or drink.”

  My eyebrows rose.

  “Don’t even try,” she said calmly. “You will bleed in your sleep if you make a stupid mistake.”

  Fair enough.

  Papa crouched beside the chair.

  “Can you walk?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  Agnes looked skeptical.

  “Assist her,” she amended.

  Papa picked me up carefully. I could almost believe I was floating.

  The corridor seemed more stable as he carried me out of it toward his room.

  I appreciated not having to sleep in the room where I had almost been murdered.

  He set me on the bed as if I were made of glass.

  Agnes followed soon after and handed me a loose silk night shirt.

  I changed slowly.

  When I sat down again, I didn’t want to look up and meet the expectant gazes of my all my lovely caretakers. I wanted to be left alone to rest. And think. And plan.

  Agnes checked the bandage once more.

  “No talking,” she reminded me.

  I nodded again.

  Papa stood by the window, looking out over the palace gardens.

  Rowan climbed carefully onto a chair beside the bed and sat watching me with serious eyes.

  Finn paced.

  Some time passed.

  Eventually someone knocked.

  Keiran stepped inside. Wearing official royal regalia, he looked more dangerous than ever.

  His gaze moved quickly around the room: Agnes, Papa, Finn, Rowan, and finally the bandage at my throat.

  “I am glad to see you well,” he said, his eyes softening at my pitiful appearance.

  I smiled lightly, not having the energy to bring the corners of my mouth up much.

  “Good.”

  He folded his hands behind his back. The softness in his eyes disappeared.

  “Congratulations.”

  I tilted my head slightly.

  “You survived your first assassination attempt.”

  Finn stopped pacing.

  Papa frowned faintly.

  Keiran glanced briefly at Finn and Rowan.

  Papa followed the look.

  “Rowan,” he said quietly. “Take your brother outside.”

  Finn hesitated.

  “Papa—”

  “Outside.”

  Finn followed Rowan out, giving me one last look as if to say take care.

  The door closed behind them.

  The room grew quieter.

  Keiran looked back at me.

  “I spoke with the girl.”

  Papa crossed his arms.

  “You questioned her?”

  “She was eager to explain herself.”

  Keiran’s gaze settled briefly on the bandage at my throat.

  “She believes she was avenging her brother.”

  That much we already knew.

  “What interested me,” he continued, “was the phrase she used.”

  He paused briefly and only said,

  “Blood ritual.”

  Papa’s expression hardened. The ritual rumor was concerning, though I supposed it was easier to believe than me having that much raw power.

  “But there was no ritual.”

  “Exactly.”

  Keiran leaned lightly against the desk.

  “There are tall tales being whispered about what happened on the battlefield.”

  Silence settled over the room.

  “The truth is less compelling for them,” Keiran said mildly.

  Papa frowned.

  “Who started this?”

  Keiran gave a small shrug.

  “We don’t know yet.”

  He looked at me again.

  “You ended a war in a single afternoon.”

  I watched him quietly.

  “Do you expect everyone to be grateful for that?”

  No one answered.

  Outside the window the lights of Edenveil glowed in the distance.

  Keiran straightened.

  “You should rest,” he said. “I will inform you if the investigation produces anything interesting.”

  He paused at the door.

  His gaze returned briefly to the bandage around my throat.

  “You are a survivor,” he said.

  Then he left.

  The room fell quiet again.

  Agnes adjusted the bandage one last time.

  “Sleep now,” she said firmly.

  I leaned further into the bed that smelled like safety and closed my eyes.

  ??

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