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  I was a hunter who had entered another hunter's lair.

  How much of this had Prince Tharen sensed?

  His tall frame filled the doorway, his shoulders broad and hard beneath his armor. His bronze skin glowed like heated metal in the orange light of dawn. His hair was damp with sweat, and the vein in his neck still bore the trace of a rapid pulse.

  Looking at Prince Tharen so closely caused nausea to swirl in my stomach. His eyes, shining between the strands of hair falling over his forehead, were not the suffocating black I had imagined. His amber irises, encircled by golden rings, were filled with measured calm—the balance of someone who could burn everything yet had chosen not to, for now.

  A massive wave of hatred coursed through my body. When I looked at Prince Tharen's face, I saw the painful reflection of Nerissa, Finnor, Lio, and countless half-breeds abandoned to misery within the borders of Varrendale. Yet the prince's straight shoulders did not bend or bow under the weight of his sins. Either he didn’t feel them, or he had learned to live with them.

  My feelings weren’t limited to hatred. Borrowing Lyrae's image meant inheriting some of her emotions as well. The admiration the maid felt for the crown prince seeped through the cracks in the wall woven by my hatred and anger. Perhaps this feeling—one that might not even belong to me—was the only thing that kept me from attempting a brutal assassination.

  I bowed my head, feeling the vein in my neck tense. “My prince.” Lyrae had referred to Tharen this way at the Pass.

  “What are you doing here before dawn?” Tharen began removing his armor piece by piece. As the heavy metal plates fell to the ground, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end like arrows.

  Defenseless. That was the first thought that crossed my mind, fueled by my burning desire for revenge. I clenched my fist, and for a moment, with the Crown Prince’s back turned to me, I was caught in the illusion that it would be very easy to kill him. I could plunge my dagger into the center of his shoulder blades and extinguish the fire in his heart.

  “I was looking after Pyra,” I said. I struggled not to distort Lyrae’s silky voice with the urge to silence it.

  “Did nightmares keep you awake again?” Tharen looked at me over his shoulder. The light was behind him, and dawn framed his silhouette. “Did you go to the palace healer, as we discussed?”

  I shook my head, Lyrae’s curls brushing against my cheeks.

  “You should go,” Tharen said, then walked toward the arched doorway of the bedroom and disappeared from view.

  “Damn it,” I whispered as I took a step toward Pyra's cage.

  Defenseless. The rebellious voice in my mind repeated it over and over. I shifted my ankle, feeling the cold dagger hidden in my boot. It would be so easy. In his room, with his armor scattered across the floor and his back turned to me. I imagined watching the power and life drain from Tharen's body.

  I bent my knees to reach for the dagger. The first son of the Elf King, heir to the Elf Throne and Varrendale's eternal enemy, was now in the palm of my hand. My fingers brushed the hilt. While Tharen believed this was just another ordinary moment in his day, I could have turned it into a scene of savagery. I could have watched the priceless blood he carried spread into a worthless, filthy puddle on the stone floor. I could have dragged the prince's lifeless body behind me all the way to Varrendale.

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  My heart pounded as if it would burst from my chest. Cold sweat ran down my back, and a shiver crawled up my spine. I could almost feel death’s cold breath at my neck.

  A squeak. Pyra.

  Suddenly, I was pulled from the red haze clouding my vision. That icy sensation I had felt was undoubtedly the harbinger of my own death. If I tried, I would die. I had never been so certain of anything in my life. Or was this fear? Fear and hesitation. I froze.

  When I raised my head, Tharen was watching me. His arms were crossed over his chest as he leaned against the threshold. A faint smirk curved his lips, and an almost malevolent gleam flickered in his eyes. Who would have thought death’s cold hand could shine so brightly?

  “You seem to be in a dream world today, Lyrae.”

  I swallowed. Despite the threatening aura emanating from Tharen, I wore my mask of calm perfectly—just as I wore Lyrae’s image. “I was just thinking about the nightmares I’ve been having, my prince.”

  “What is this nightmare you’re so reluctant to tell me about?” he asked. The deadly glint in his eyes gave way to a softer understanding. The pressure that had been crushing my bones seconds ago vanished completely.

  “I... I don’t know how to explain it, my prince,” I said carefully, revealing nothing as we drifted with the current of the conversation. The prince could steer it where he wished, and I would give nothing away.

  “Then perhaps the person you need to see is Seer Ilaron.” Tharen bowed his head slightly, though his eyes remained on me. “I will send word that you are coming.”

  I swallowed. Seer Ilaron was the elf who had acquired the ancient parchments at the royal auction. My heart raced again, but this time with excitement. Being able to simply walk into his castle would be a tremendous opportunity to seize them. A rough plan was already forming in my mind.

  “I’d be honored, Your Highness.”

  Tharen smiled. It was a smile devoid of emotion, the kind a prince might offer a servant. Yet the hope it stirred in poor Lyrae had already seeped into my mind through the image I wore.

  ***

  It had gone too well. That was strange—unsettling.

  Hearing Prince Tharen engage in everyday conversation, seeing him care for his servant, and standing in his room made me think I had exaggerated him in my mind. The prince I had believed to be nothing but power had revealed an emotional side, forcing me to acknowledge that he, too, was vulnerable. He was mortal. Prince Tharen could fall.

  When I reached the Passage, Calithra, Droven, and Cain all jumped to their feet at once. Even Vaelis frowned where he sat.

  “How did it go?” Cain asked. “Did you give yourself away?”

  “If she had, we’d be breathing her ashes right now, you fool,” Calithra snapped.

  I slumped onto the couch and scowled as I slipped back into my own form. Shape-shifting was truly exhausting. I muttered a curse. “Every part of me hurts...”

  Droven sat beside me. “Let me heal you.”

  “Wow. Thanks,” I said. Droven was full of surprises.

  “Did you learn anything?” Vaelis asked. His brows were slightly furrowed, the corners of his shapely lips turned down, his pupils narrowed.

  I nodded. “Pyra is a legendary creature, but I don’t think it can be compared to Ilmestys,” I said with a faint smile. “Oh—and a few maps on his desk had the northern shores marked. Ashvael Coast was written on them.”

  Vaelis’s composure was like a shell concealing the magnitude of the problem within. His icy gaze sharpened; the veins in his neck became visible. “Ashvael Coast...”

  “He hadn’t touched any books about dragons,” I added. “It’s too early to grow suspicious, in my opinion.”

  “Yes,” Vaelis murmured. He leaned his head back, his Adam’s apple shifting in his throat. From here, he looked like a flawless marble statue bathed in moonlight. “That’s why you’ll bring me more information, Asterin.” He lowered his head again, his gray eyes locking onto mine and refusing to release them. “That’s why I need you every step of the way with this plan.”

  ***

  That’s why I need you.

  As I walked through the deserted backstreets of the Elven Capital at midnight, Vaelis’s words echoed in my mind and weighed heavily on my shoulders. The responsibilities placed upon me—and my impatience to free the half-bloods—were growing uncontrollably, like an avalanche. Today, I had come dangerously close to losing control, and I would not allow it to happen again. I was determined to follow the plan precisely, leaving no room for error.

  So I needed to start somewhere.

  The vial containing Calithra's blood in my cloak pocket felt far heavier than it should have. That was why I was here.

  When I opened the door, Iskra's forge welcomed me with warmth.