The war room was enormous, dominated by a black stone table inlaid with an intricately carved map. Tiny runes glowed across contested territories. At the far end, bent over stacks of parchment, stood Kazimir, flanked by Vex, Sims, and Thorne. Four heads snapped up when I entered.

Kazimir straightened. His gaze swept over me, taking in the silk robe, the determined set of my jaw.

“Everyone out,” I commanded, not taking my eyes off him. “Except Kazimir.”

He glared at me. I glared right back. Thorne, Sims, and Vex practically tripped over themselves getting out, leaving me alone with him in the echoing silence.

Kazimir crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the table. “Nowyou use my name?”

He looked exhausted—dangerously so—but there was a coiled tension about him that felt electric. Stubble graced his jawline. His hair was mussed, as if he’d been running his hands through it. I wanted to hate him for looking far too good even in that disheveled state.

I folded my arms and let him see the anger in my eyes. “So. You’ve been back. For hours.”

“Yes.” He just waited, daring me to say what I wanted to say.

I forced a laugh. “You ran off right when we were—preoccupied—yesterday. Then you sneak back in without the courtesy of letting me know you’re alive.”

His gaze tracked the stray motes of magic sparking around my fingers. The air snapped with an energy that matched the wild twist in my chest.

Kazimir turned away and reached for a decanter of amber liquor at a sideboard. He poured two glasses, extending one toward me. “I suspect we both could use a drink.”

I accepted out of reflex. It gave me something to do with my hands besides setting the war room on fire. “You’re stalling.”

“And you’re itching for a fight.” He raised an eyebrow. “Are you angry that I’m still alive? Or that I left you alone after we began something you wanted to finish?”

I thought about tossing the brandy in his face, but it would only make him happy to have elicited such a reaction from me. Instead, I took a sip and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, watching how his eyes tracked the movement.

I smiled. “Both.”

A knowing smirk replaced his momentary surprise. “You wouldn’t like the outcome if I’d died. Your safety is too entangled with mine.” His voice softened. “Or maybe you would. Maybe you lie awake imagining my demise right after you finish imagining my touch.”

My throat tightened. “What happened in Arvoryn?” I asked, deliberately ignoring his attempt to unbalance me.

He paused, brandy sloshing in his glass. Finally, he set it aside, suddenly too preoccupied to drink. “It’s done,” he said at last. “We’re at war with Solandris.”

I gave a small nod. “Because of me.”

“In part, yes,” he admitted. “But it would have happened sooner or later.”

“Because that’s been your goal all along.”

He nodded.

I set my glass down on the table. “You didn’t make me wait until afternoon just to tell me we’re at war. There’s something else.”

He held my gaze for a long moment, as if debating whether to continue the charade. “Your father sold you to King Auremar.”

I blinked, certain I’d misheard. “What?”

“Forty thousand gold crowns and a seat on the royal council. Your father made the deal months ago.” His eyes watched me carefully. “You were to be the king’s bride. My... intervention upset their plans.”

The room seemed to tilt. I gripped the edge of the table to steady myself. My entire life had been a transaction waiting to happen. But knowing it and hearing it were very different things. “And you’ve known this for how long?”

He shifted his weight. “Three days.”

Three days. He’d known for three days and hadn’t told me. And there I’d been, in the training room, practically ripping off his clothes… And then waiting like an idiot for him to return.

“When were you going to tell me?” I asked, my voice barely audible. “You’ve had plenty of opportunities.”