He was walking toward her, his mouth twisted into a frown.

  “Why don’t you come sit with us?” he asked, nodding toward his friends. They gave Corinne a friendly wave, and she raised an eyebrow.

  “Why?”

  “Because watching you stand here like you’re going to stab everyone is making it difficult to relax,” he said, all antagonistic pretenses gone. “Come on. They’re not going to bite you.”

  Corinne scanned the clearing once before uncrossing her arms. “All right.”

  They strode back to Aryel’s friends, who greeted Corinne warmly.

  “I’m Elys,” one of them said, holding out his hand.

  “Petros,” the other man said as Corinne shook Elys’s hand.

  She couldn’t recall their surnames since she’d read so many, but she would check her list again later. They both had the look of carefree noble sons; Elys with his light brown face peppered in freckles, offering a full-lipped smile, and Petros with an impressively straight nose and defined muscles rippling beneath sepia skin. Not that Corinne had met many nobles’ sons, but if she’d been asked to imagine them, these two would be it.

  “This is Corinne,” Aryel said, and a low, slow warmth spread behind her ribcage. He’d never said her name before.

  “How’s it been following this one around?” Elys asked, slipping to the grass and fully lounging back, one arm behind his head, propped on the log.

  Corinne took a seat on the log in front of them, folding her hands on her knees.

  “A nightmare, I’d wager,” Petros said, taking a sip of his drink. “It’s why my father’s never assigned me a guard; if I die, I die.”

  The three of them laughed, and Corinne allowed them a small smile. Very small.

  She didn’t contribute much to the conversation as it continued, but she was at least right in front of Aryel and wouldn’t be subjected to more of Lana’s attempted jabs.

  “Corinne, have you tried the wine?” Petros asked, getting up to refill his own cup.

  Corinne shook her head quickly. “Oh, no, I⁠—”

  “I’ll get you a cup,” he said, already walking off before she could protest further.

  Aryel and Elys were arguing about what types of bird feathers made the best fletching.

  “You only like peacock feathers for their visual appeal,” Aryel accused, fully alert and engaged in the debate despite the two drinks he’d had.

  Elys scoffed. “They’re just as accurate as pheasant.”

  “Goose feathers,” Corinne said, and both men turned to look at her. “They’re pretty, durable, and hold up in the rain. They’re my preference.”

  She wasn’t sure if she should be insulted at the shocked admiration on Aryel’s face, but it made that warmth behind her sternum tug at her again. What was wrong with her? Having his approval should be the last thing she was concerned about.

  Petros returned with the wine, which Corinne took with a polite smile. As the three men continued speaking, she sniffed the contents of the cup. It was a rich, earthy smell, and somehow fruity at the same time. She looked over her shoulder at the fire, at the surrounding nobles who had become even less polished since she’d arrived. Their laughter was unhindered, their dancing unrefined. An ache formed in her chest, a foreign feeling of…longing? Envy? She couldn’t name it. She turned back to the wine in her hands and, giving in to impulse, lifted it to her lips.

  She choked and coughed, and Aryel, Elys, and Petros looked over at her, Aryel pausing mid-sentence.

  “This is disgusting,” she said, placing the cup on the ground, and Aryel’s answering laugh rattled her bones.

  “We don’t drink it for the taste, Sunshine,” he said, Elys and Petros chuckling along with him.

  “No,” Corinne said coolly. “You drink it for the excuse to act like brazen fools.”

  “Sounds about right,” Petros said, lifting his cup so Aryel and Elys could toast with him before they all continued laughing.

  Corinne sighed. In truth, it wasn’t even as bad as the tea she drank each week. That ache in her chest built again as the merriment around her continued; she felt so starkly out of place, even sitting amongst them. Would it be so bad if she decided to drink? It wasn’t like a single cup of wine would make her completely lose her wits. She lifted the cup from the ground again, glancing around, but no one was paying her any mind. She took another sip, and then another.

  Her cheeks turned warm after she’d consumed half the wine, and her anxious alertness changed to calm observation. What had she been so worried about? This was a small group of people, they weren’t that far from the castle, and she was one of the most skilled fighters in the land.

  “Aryel.”

  Corinne’s heart sank, her warm serenity vanishing. Lana had appeared to her left, arms crossed as she looked at the prince.

  “We need to talk,” she said, that airy sweetness from earlier gone.

  Aryel’s face went stony. “Fine,” he said, handing his cup to Elys as he hauled himself off the ground.

  Lana led him close to the tree line, just far enough that they couldn’t overhear them. Corinne shifted positions, a little clumsily, so she could keep an eye on Aryel.

  “He never should have gotten involved with her,” Elys sighed, taking another gulp of his wine. “Told him she’d just break his heart.”

  Corinne tried to sound nonchalant as she asked, “Were they lovers?”

  “I don’t know if you could even call them that,” Petros said with a snort, shaking his head. “He’d been going through a rough time, and she pounced on the opportunity to share the prince’s bed. Always kept him at arm’s length, though. She’s done the same thing with other high-ranking nobles’ sons.”

  Corinne watched in befuddlement as Aryel and Lana had what appeared to be a quiet argument. She didn’t understand any of it—how could one let someone into their bed, to share that level of intimacy, and still keep them at arm’s length?

  “Why would she do that?” Corinne asked.

  Petros shrugged. “Some people seek power and control in whatever way they can.”

  Lana’s face softened as Aryel started to turn away from her, and she said something to make him pause. She grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him down to kiss him. All the warmth left Corinne’s body as Aryel pushed Lana away, and he spoke loud enough that she heard this time.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  He stalked off, toward the back of the clearing, and Lana started after him, hand outstretched.

  Corinne didn’t recall getting up, but an instant later, her hand was around Lana’s very snappable wrist.

  “If you touch him without his consent again, I’ll break your hand,” Corinne said.

  Her voice was not laced with poison; it was pure venom. She let some of her magic flash in her eyes for good measure, and Lana’s face went stark white. Corinne released her and hurried after the prince.

  She found him just a few rows of trees back, his pace brisk as he wove through the woods.

  “Your Highness,” Corinne called, but he didn’t slow. She sped up until she was beside him. “We’re going in the opposite direction of the castle.”

  “I know,” he said, and Corinne didn’t miss the note of pain in his voice.

  “Then where are you going?”

  “Into the city.”

  “I really don’t⁠—”

  “Please,” Aryel said, stopping so suddenly Corinne almost dashed ahead of him. “There’s a place I like to go there that helps me calm down. We can both sober up, and then we can go back to the castle. Okay?”

  Corinne looked at him in the darkness, uncertainty prickling her insides, but the look on his face was so undressed, so genuinely imploring.

  “All right.”

  She summoned a bit of her magic to her palm to light their way, letting Aryel lead, and soon the pine needles beneath their feet turned to the cobblestones of a back alley. Corinne would have been hopelessly lost weaving through all the little streets Aryel trekked.

  She extinguished her light as they emerged onto streets lit with lanterns, and he led her toward an abandoned old shop of some kind. She half expected him to try the boarded-up front door, but instead he walked around the side and began climbing a steep, crumbling staircase. Corinne followed, careful where she placed her feet on the uneven stone. Soon they emerged onto a little rooftop. Aryel plopped onto the ground in the center of the roof and lay flat on his back, exhaling sharply.

  “Care to join me?” he asked.

  Corinne looked at the star-smattered sky. For a moment, it was as if she was on the roof of the dormitory at the monastery. But Vera wasn’t here, and she had a job to do.

  “It’s best I stay vigilant for us both,” she said.

  Aryel’s answering sigh sent a small flicker of guilt through her, but she was right to remain where she was. The wine had mostly worn off, especially after she’d used some of her magic. Perhaps Helaera’s Sun burned away the effects of alcohol the same way it mended maladies of the flesh.

  “Do you ever feel like you don’t belong to yourself?” Aryel asked at length, his voice quiet but clear.

  Corinne shifted where she stood, watching him in the darkness. He hardly moved, still gazing up at the stars with his hands crossed over his middle.

  “I’m not sure I understand,” she admitted.

  Aryel sat up, resting his forearms on his knees and looking over his shoulder at her.

  “I suppose someone who’s dedicated their life to the Goddess wouldn’t,” he said. “You at least made the choice to give yourself to a higher calling.”

  She still didn’t fully understand what he meant, but something about it made disquiet prickle up her spine. Perhaps it was her lack of sleep. Aryel looked at the sky again, letting out a long sigh.

  “I shouldn’t have come out tonight,” he said. “Then I wouldn’t have run into Lana again.”

  Corinne shifted where she stood. “Do you think she could be the spy?”

  Aryel snorted a laugh. “She’s manipulative and selfish, but she wouldn’t dare. If I’m dead, there’s no path for her to be queen.”

  Corinne grimaced. “She wants to marry you, after treating you like that?”

  Aryel gazed at her for a long moment, and Corinne couldn’t make out whatever emotion played on his face.

  “She wants power and riches and utter devotion,” he said. “I don’t give a fuck about the first two, and I will not offer the third if it’s not given in return.”

  “Yet she still hopes to marry you?”

  “Apparently,” Aryel muttered. “It doesn’t help that my mother is friends with hers.”

  Corinne truly did not understand the point of it all. Danai was right—nobles and their games were not pleasant company.

  Aryel stood once more, and Corinne forced herself back to alertness.

  “All right,” he said. “Let’s head back.”

  Corinne could have crumpled with relief; she’d get him back safely, secretly, and hopefully tomorrow she’d have time to steal a few hours’ sleep while he attended a large council meeting set to take place.

  Goddess, she hoped he wouldn’t be hungover for that.

  Aryel led them through more winding streets and back alleys until they stepped into a larger square, headed for a part of the woods that was closer to the castle than where they’d exited.

  Halfway across the square, the hairs on the nape of Corinne’s neck stood up. She whipped around, ready to draw her sword in an instant, but no one was there. She summoned light to her palm again, scanning the alley behind them as she walked on. Empty.

  Shaking her head at herself, she faced forward again. Perhaps she was too sleep-deprived to be a reliable guard right now.

  “Oof!”

  Corinne bumped right into Aryel, who’d stopped midway down a short street. Her eyes locked on the silhouette ahead of them that had made Aryel freeze in place.

  A figure stood at the end of the street, blocking their way forward with two daggers drawn.

  Corinne moved at the same time they did. She shoved Aryel out of the way as another figure lunged from behind them, blocking that attacker’s sword with her own while flinging a beam of light at the other. The one with two daggers rolled out of the way while the other reset, circling her and Aryel. Corinne didn’t give them a moment’s reprieve.

  She sent another arc of light slashing toward the first assailant, hitting him squarely in the chest. He crumpled to the ground, and Corinne blocked the other’s attempt to reach Aryel, grabbing his forearm and ramming her knee into his gut. He dropped the sword to the ground with a clatter, but quickly drew a knife with his other hand. Corinne shoved him away in time to avoid anything worse than a shallow cut to her side, and then thrust her sword through his heart.

  He died with a sickening, bloody wheeze, and Corinne let his body slump to the ground, yanking her blade out of him with a ragged cry. Her arms still glowed with the markings of her magic as her chest heaved. Aryel. He was on the ground, propped on his elbows and staring at her and the dead man blankly.

  “Are you hurt?” she asked hoarsely, and he didn’t move. “Aryel?”

  He blinked several times, the blank shock morphing to confusion, and then lucidity.

  “No,” he said. “I’m not hurt.”

  Corinne nodded, a strange calm spreading within her. She helped him up, her sword still drawn in her right hand, her magic still steady. “Good. Come on, we need to alert the city guard and Captain Ekhana.”

  Every bit of tiredness had vacated Corinne’s body. She was more alert than a bloodhound, picking up on any sound or shifting shadow in the woods as they hurried back to the castle. Aryel scaled the castle with the aid of his sheets and blankets first, and she quickly followed. The deep-seated irritation toward him from mere hours ago felt like it belonged to someone else.

  As she vaulted onto his balcony, a voice drifted through her mind.

  You wanted him to die.

  Icy fear gripped her insides.

  You wanted him to die, so you wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore.

  No. That wasn’t true. It wasn’t⁠—

  Why else would you have let him be so reckless?

  Corinne began to tremble.

  If he died, you’d get another assignment. It’s what you want.

  No. No. No. No. Stay the course. Be the Light. Be the Light be the Light be the Light be the Light be the⁠—

  “Are you all right?”

  She should tell Aryel to get away from her, that he couldn’t trust her, that she was an evil, wicked person⁠—

  “Hey.” A pair of hands gripped her shoulders, and Aryel’s face appeared before her.

  When had she ended up on the floor? And—oh, Helaera above, that horrible gasping sound was coming from her.

  “Breathe, Sunshine. It’s okay. We’re both okay.”

  She shook her head rapidly. “You don’t understand.”

  “That two men just tried to kill me in the street and you saved my life by killing them? I think I understand that part.”

  “No,” Corinne whispered, the guilt gnawing at her insides as the voice echoed in her ears. “No, no, no.”

  “Okay, okay,” he said. “Just breathe. What can I do to help?”

  Corinne gasped again, a bit of clarity breaking through at the sound of his voice.

  “Keep talking,” she said. “Please.”

  “Talking, all right. Did you have fun tonight? You know, prior to the, uh, near-death experience?”

  Corinne choked on a laugh. It felt hollow, like she was still half in reality, half stuck in the abyssal spiral of her thoughts. “Between climbing down the side of a castle and nearly breaking a noblewoman’s wrist, I would say no, I did not have fun.”

  “Whose wrist did you—?” He paused. “Lana. What did you do to her?”

  “I…” Corinne gulped down air, and suddenly she could feel how hard the stone floor was beneath her palms. “I grabbed her arm before she could go after you again and told her I’d break her hand.”

  Aryel huffed a humorless laugh, his eyebrows pinching in incredulity. “That might be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

  “That’s a little depressing,” Corinne said.

  More of that all-consuming dread and guilt subsided. She was in Aryel’s room, just inside the balcony doors, her bloodied sword on the ground beside her.

  “You seem to be better,” he said. He gave her a thorough once-over, and Corinne didn’t even have the energy to be self-conscious. “Do you want to tell me what happened? You looked like you might faint or collapse from terror.”

  Corinne took a deep breath as she looked into his eyes. She couldn’t admit it to him.

  Then again, she was already on the floor in front of him, on the verge of a meltdown, and he’d hardly flinched.

  “You’ll think I’m completely mad,” she said. He’ll think you’re evil.

  Aryel raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t think you cared what I thought.”

  “I don’t,” she said, sharper than she’d intended.

  “Then try me.”

  Corinne stared at him for another moment, something within her aching to reveal this torment she’d endured in solitude for years now. Perhaps he would think her mad…but perhaps he wouldn’t. If she didn’t care what he thought, what did it matter anyway?

  It was enough to bring the words forth.

  “Sometimes,” she said, her voice small. “Sometimes I have these…thoughts.”

  Aryel nodded slowly, still kneeling on the floor in front of her. “Thoughts?”

  “Terrible thoughts,” she said. “Like this voice that’s me, but not really me. It terrifies me. It makes me feel like I’m a fraud, like I don’t deserve to be a Lightguard, or deserve kindness, or friendship, or anything, really.”

  Aryel grew pensive for a moment. “And what thoughts were you having just now?”

  Corinne swallowed hard. “I can’t.”

  “Tell me,” he said softly. It wasn’t an order, but an invitation. “No judgment. I promise.”

  She could barely get the words out. “That it was my fault, that I let you go tonight because I wanted you to be in danger. That I…wanted you to die.”