In possession of a wife.

I look up at the ceiling, the hairline crack of the moon counting down the seconds till midnight. Then I look at Stella, who is struggling to pull herself to her feet in Faradir’s globe. She meets my gaze, and her face softens, her brown eyes big and emotive as always. She mouths: “I love you.”

And in that moment, I want for nothing but to be deserving of that love.

I never should have shoved her away. Never should have let my fear get the better of me. I should have fought harder for her.

I will fight now.

Shoving to my feet, I break into a sprint, rip a small knife out of my belt, and throw it as hard as I can.

It thumps into the open door the High King’s queen is about to slip through, slamming it shut. I’m there a second later, grabbing the poor woman and yanking her back to the throne. She lets out a tiny, pitiful scream.

“Release her!” the High King bellows, marching down the steps to his throne. “Release her!”

“I don’t believe you specifiedwhosewife I had to be in possession of at Lulythinar,” I growl.

Faradir reacts faster than I expect. One second, I hold his wife, the next I realize he intends to kill her in the last seconds before Lulythinar. But I lose my footing to either block the knife or throw Faradir’s wife out of the way.

A cry of pain splits the room.

It’s not a woman’s.

My shock stuns me for a second, and I do not realize what has just happened. Not until Iluna cries, “Prince Rahk!”

That’s when I see the knife in his shoulder, the tightness of his body at the pain.

I almost lose my grip on the queen, whose name no one knows.Rahk.

He threw himself in front of the blade. Not to spare the queen.

To spare me.

“Rahk!” I croak, shoving the queen behind me while I keep my grip tight on her arm. “Rahk!”

“I’m fine,” he grunts, breathing hard, lifting his iron cold eyes to where Faradir stands at the foot of his throne, an open-mouthed Stella clutched tightly in his hand.

At once, a slight burning bands around my wrist. I look down just in time to watch the broken crown tattoo disappear.

Then I look up to the ceiling, where the moon perfectly fills the skylight.

The bargain is fulfilled.

Faradir clenches his jaw, closes his eyes. Then he opens them in a flash, and for a second, deep voids of black stare back at me before they return to jewel blue. He swivels his attention from me to Rahk as he gets to his feet, his bloody hand pressed beneath the knife still in his shoulder.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Faradir says softly. “Your parents will never forgive me for what I’m now forced to do.”

I shove the queen away from me. “Get out of here,” I hiss at her. “And summon the Court.”

I don’t wait to make sure she’s going to be safe as she turns and runs as fast as she can, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. My hand finds my hilt.

Rahk lets go of his wound, backing up as he draws one of his swords. The High King shakes his head, as though mournfully. He yanks an axe from the array of golden weapons behind his throne.

“You have been so loyal, young prince,” Faradir says, his tone smooth as honey before it turns hard as rock. “Kneel before me and take your punishment like a man. Do not prove yourself a coward.”

“I do not see how protecting your queen constitutes disloyalty,” Rahk replies, blood dripping down his arm. His voice has only the barest quaver from the pain. He continues backing up slowly, making the High King follow him. “If you tell me what crime I have committed, I will submit to my punishment.”

“You have defied me,” Faradir hisses. “You and—”