A goldenclaw lies on the smooth stones, attached to a harness pulled by two horses. She’s dead. One look makes it clear. Her fur is brassy, dull. Her eyes are clouded over. The fur around her mouth is matted with dried blood.

It’s Two.

A gasp slips out of me as I drop to my knees to gently touch her scarred ear.Cold. She’s so cold. Where is my funny, warm-blooded, riddle-telling friend?

Near the head table, my father argues with his army generals. The rest of the fae sit moodily in their gilded seats, their meals untouched, as they murmur to one another in an ancient language.

Artain locks his gaze on me, his eyes flashing with unreadable intent.

Tati catches up to me, dropping to her knees as well. She touches my shoulder. “Highness, I am so sorry. I know you had a special bond with Two, and all the goldenclaws.”

“What happened?” I breathe.

Tati’s face pales. “The fields in Lunden Valley were dead. In every farm we came to, all the animals and villagers—it was always the same. Dead, seemingly without warning. They’d cough up blood. We didn’t know what to think. There were no plaguewings. None of us took ill. It was only after we stopped to let the goldenclaws drink from the river that I put it together. Two drank first, even before our soldiers filled their flasks. She started coughing up blood immediately.” Tati’s eyes travel somewhere else, to some dark memory. “Poison. The entire river. It had spread into the water table. Everything west of the Lunden Valley is contaminated. Hundreds of people and livestock dead.”

My spine goes ramrod straight. Any hunger I felt vanishes, replaced by a tidal wave of shock that leaves my hands trembling.

Quietly, I ask, “How?”

Before Tati answers, my father overhears and thunders, “We don’t know yet how it happened, whether by intention or accident. We’ve taken a sample from this beast but cannot identify the poison.”

“It’s Thorn Apple.”

I spin at Basten’s voice sudden behind me, my eyes immediately scouring him for any sign of harm. He looks tired. Dark circles hang under his eyes like shadows against his pale skin. Briefly, his eyes dart between me and Artain, like his worry over our deal has left him sleepless.

That makes two of us.

“What’s that, Lord Basten?” Vale rasps, drawing out his words.

“Thorn Apple.” The crowd parts, and Basten moves into view. “It’s similar to burdock root, but I can smell the difference. If Thorn Apple flowers are crushedand soaked in oil, then the poison won’t dilute in water, and remain highly potent. It’s a little-known poison. Only a few experts would know how to use it in that manner.”

My father’s eyes narrow. “Yetyouknow how.”

Basten rolls back his shoulders. “I know how, yes. I had an incident with Thorn Apple when I was younger.” His throat constricts as he swallows. “And someone else knows how, too—I told King Rian the story years ago.”

I push to my feet, shoving my hair out of my face. “Rian? This was—Rian? He did this?”

Basten’s eyes meet mine over the goldenclaw’s body. There’s so much anger there. Enough to fill the hall twice over. But his pain? A hundred times as much. A pain that makes me want to reach out to him. To close the gap.

But I can’t—not here. In front of my father.

“Considering the border wall, that would mean King Rian must have poisoned the river on the Astagnonian side before it enters Volkany,” Tati explains.

“He wouldn’t.” My voice falters. “To do so, he’d have to poison a portion of Astagnon, too. Kill his own people.”

The crowd erupts with speculative murmurs.

“Are his forces on the move?” one of the generals asks Tati.

“Not as of yet. Not from what we’ve seen.” She clears her throat. “King Rian has to know his forces are not strong enough to face our army. If I had to guess, I’d say this was a stunt to prove his power to the kingdoms of Kravada and Clarana in hopes of garnering their support.”

“Generals,” my father says sharply. “Meet me in the council chamber. We need to retaliate, and it needs to be swift. Dramatic. Send a message right back. The rulers of Kravada and Clarana will think twice about siding with KingRian when they hear how many bodies fall in our wake.” He lowers his heavy gaze to Basten. “Lord Basten, ready yourself to depart when I give the word. The faster the Astagnonian people bow to us, the fewer lives we’ll lose. Where’s Beneveto? Someone drag him out of the opium den and tell him to get on a horse to Old Corosnow.”

Bile rises up my throat, and I press a hand against the base of my ribs, my other hand squeezing into such a tight fist that my fingernails cut into my palm.

I will kill Rian myself…

I force my hands slack before my skin breaks from the pressure of my anger.