Chapter 2

It was late afternoon when I passed the Choir's practice hall on my way to the apothecary.

Bianca was on the steps with a half-dozen other girls. Pale silks. Ribbons in their hair. Voices light as glass.

She saw me. I knew she saw me. Her voice rose half an octave.

"Oh, Renzo is too honorable. I told him I wasn't strong enough for the Academy. But he insisted. For my father's honor, he said. He even drafted the application himself."

A girl beside her giggled.

"Bianca. You and the Knight Commander are made for each other. A hero and a beauty. Whereas Lady Castellani—"

Bianca lifted her fan to her mouth.

"Stop. If Sera hears you, she'll think I'm bullying her again. You know how she is. Fishing village girl. Such a temper."

I tightened my grip on the apothecary basket and kept walking.

I didn't stop to confront her.

There was no point.

I went to Lady Cass's.

Wife of Duke Bell. The King's oldest friend. The gentlest man in the Sun Kingdom court.

Three years ago, the Duke had taken a Tide bolt while inspecting border defenses. I had ridden through the night from Castellammare and pulled the barb out of his thigh by lantern light.

He had lived.

Lady Cass opened her own door for me.

She always did. She'd looked at me like her own daughter from the first day I rode through her gate.

"Sera." She read my face. "You and him fighting again?"

I followed her inside. I shook my head.

"Lady Cass. I need to ask about the Academy."

She exhaled, long and slow.

"That husband of yours."

Her eyes were tired.

"Sera, the spot was yours. Master Klaus chose you himself. Renzo went over his head. Submitted Bianca's name alongside. Used the old Knight Commander's name."

"Vittorio Castellani has been retired five years. But his old students are scattered across the royal council, the King's Guard, the Academy review board. When the Castellani name asks for a favor — even now — people listen."

My stomach dropped.

So it wasn't just an application.

He fought for it.

Against me.

For her.

That was the moment I knew.

I left the Duke's manor as the sun was setting.

The sea wind off the harbor was harder than usual. It scraped at my face. I pulled my hood up.

I heard the footsteps before I heard the voice.

"Sera."

I turned.

My little brother.

Matteo. Fifteen years old. Half a head taller than me. Squire's leathers. A short blade at his hip. A face still soft with boyhood.

He came at a run.

"Sera, what happened. What did he do."

"Nothing, Teo."

"Don't lie to me. I saw Lady Cass's groom. I saw your face."

I tried to smile.

He grabbed my sleeve.

"Tell me."

I told him. Just the Academy. Just the application.

His face went red. Then white.

"That lying little—"

"Matteo. Don't."

"No, Sera, listen to me. You nearly died pulling that arrow out of his chest. You took a barb through your hand for him. Your hand still doesn't close properly. And he—"

"Stop."

"He forgot. That's what he did. He forgot." His voice cracked.

"Eight years and he forgot. And now he's giving your spot to that—"

"Teo. We don't say that here."

I clamped my hand over his mouth.

That was the rule.

Lorenzo had told me himself, a month into our marriage. Sera. A Knight Commander does not owe his life to his wife. Anyone who hears that — anyone — will think less of me.

So I'd buried it.

For eight years.

Matteo tore my hand off his mouth. His eyes were wet.

"I'm going to make her say it to my face."

"Matteo—"

He was already running.

......

By the time I caught up, it was too late.

Two of the King's Guard had Matteo face-down on the steps of the Choir hall. His cheek was pressed against the stone. There was blood on his lip.

Bianca was sobbing into Lorenzo's chest. Her hands were trembling on his cuirass. Tears streamed down her face.

"Renzo," she whispered.

"I only wanted to explain, her brother — he came up the steps and he — he put his hands on me—"

"I never touched her!" Matteo thrashed under their hands. "She's lying through her teeth!"

Lorenzo's boot came down on his back.

"Quiet."

Then again. Harder.

"You think the royal court is your tavern, boy?"

I shoved through the guards and threw myself between them.

"Lorenzo. Stop."

He looked up at me.

I had seen those green eyes on a battlefield. I had seen them across a dying soldier. I had seen them on our wedding night.

I had never seen them like this.

His eyes were ice.

"Sera. Move."

"He put hands on a daughter of the Royal Choir. Two witnesses. He'll be tried in the morning. Move, or you'll be charged as an accomplice."

I didn't move.

He looked past me. At the Captain of the Guard.

"Take him."

They dragged Matteo off the steps. His leathers scraped the stone.

He was crying — not from the pain, I realized.

From the look on my face.

They hauled him through the archway and he was gone.

Bianca raised her tear-streaked face from Lorenzo's chest.

And in that heartbeat, I saw her flicker of triumph.

Then she was sobbing again. His hand came up and cupped the back of her head.

Voice softer than he'd ever used on me.

"It's okay. I've got you."

I stood three steps away from them.

A woman watching her own funeral.

......

I went to his study that night to beg.

He was at his desk, polishing the gold lion brooch King Leo had pinned to his cloak three years ago.

The Golden Lion Cross. Three men in the kingdom had been granted one. He was the youngest.

He didn't look up.

"It's discipline, Sera. He put hands on a court woman. The law's the law."

"He didn't touch her."

"Two witnesses say he did."

"They're Choir girls. They'd say the sky was green if she told them to."

"And you have nothing but a brother's word." He set the brooch down.

I stared at him.

"He is the only family I have left."

His mouth tightened.

"I told you to manage him."

He stood. Walked around the desk. His voice was very quiet.

"You want me to break the law of the court — for your family. After everything I have done for you."

The words tasted like iron.

"I expected better from you."

He picked the brooch back up.

"The Academy spot has been confirmed. It's Bianca. The announcement goes out Monday."

He polished the gold lion's eye.

"I'll do what I can for your brother. No formal record. But he serves his confinement, and he takes the reprimand. That's the most I can give you."

The most he could give me.

Like he was sliding a copper coin across a table to a beggar.

I turned around and walked out.

The door clicked shut behind me.

In the dark corridor, with my back against the cold stone, I finally understood.

The world I had built for the last eight years had been a painted curtain.

And tonight, somewhere behind it, the whole world went black.