“Poor you,” Soldian sneered, whipping two daggers out from beneath her skirts. They gleamed in the light, and Dareena could clearly see the runes shimmering along the edges of the blades. “Now let me leave in peace, or I will end your life right here.”
“Careful,” Lucyan said in a low voice. “I recognize those daggers. They are spelled to always find their target no matter how bad the wielder’s aim, and the smallest scratch is fatal.”
“Very good, princeling,” Soldian cooed, her eyes gleaming. “You might just be the most intelligent person in this room. Of course, we’ve never tested these on dragons, but they should work perfectly well against Dareena, since she is a mere human.” She cocked her head to the side, looking thoughtful. “Perhaps I should kill you anyway. There is enough time to take at least two of you out. The question is, which two deserve to live the least?”
“If you kill any of us,” Lucyan said tersely, “you will not escape. Surely this mission is not worth your life.”
Soldian opened her mouth to answer, but just then, Lyria flung the door open. She plunged a dagger into the warlock spy’s back before she could react. Soldian screamed, whirling around as Lyria yanked the dagger from her back, but the dragon born was faster, and she ducked, avoiding Soldian’s wild strike. She plunged the dagger into her heart, then swept her legs out, knocking her to the ground.
“I thought I’d listen from outside,” she said with a shrug when they all stared at her. “In case things got out of hand.”
“Thank the gods you did,” Dareena said fervently. She leapt over Soldian’s dead body and wrapped Lyria up in a bone-crushing hug. “I never thought I would be this glad to see you in my life.”
Lyria laughed awkwardly. “You’re welcome,” she said, returning the hug.
“We are in your debt,” Lucyan said, inclining his head. The other brothers agreed vehemently, and Cyra apologized for accusing Lyria, who merely shrugged. Lyria was being remarkably humble about all this, Dareena noted. Perhaps she truly had changed.
“Now that you are free, we really ought to get you back into your clothes,” Cyra said. She removed her traveling cloak and placed it around Dareena, then gently dragged her away from the dead body on the floor. “I would never have guessed she was a spy. Do you know where she came from?”
“Shadowhaven,” Dareena said. “And she was not the only one. Rantissa was an assassin, sent by Prince Arolas to murder my unborn child.”
“Is that why you killed her?” Drystan asked. “Because you found out the truth?”
Dareena laughed. “No. Soldian killed her. She came upon us when Rantissa was trying to murder me, though I think Rantissa might have actually been about to stop her attack. When I didn’t move or speak, she began to suspect something was wrong, and I think she was starting to soften to me after seeing the way I handled the elven delegation.”
Lucyan shook his head. “It appears as though I’ve missed a lot,” he said, pulling Dareena into his arms. “Gods, I am so glad I got here when I did.”
“You saved me,” Dareena said, wrapping her arms around Lucyan. She kissed him deeply, tears of happiness and relief springing to her eyes as he ardently returned her embrace. His scent seeped into her, bringing her comfort and joy, and if not for the audience, she might never have let him go.
“Let’s get this mess taken care of and go somewhere more comfortable to talk,” Lucyan suggested, setting her down. He crouched down beside Soldian’s dead body to search her while Dareena embraced her friends.
“I am so happy the three of you came,” she said. “Cyra, Tildy, and even Gilma! You didn’t have to travel all this way.” She squeezed Gilma’s hand. “It must have been very hard on you.”
Gilma smiled, her milky gaze finding Dareena’s even though she could not see. “There is very little that would have kept me away,” she said, “and besides, Tildy is my caretaker. We had to go together.”
“I refused to leave without her,” Tildy said. “As much as I wanted to see you, I made you a promise that I would take care of her. But Gilma wouldn’t hear of it, so she insisted that she would come along so I would not have to stay behind.”
The three of them chatted for a bit, filling her in on all that had happened since Dareena had left. It turned out that Tildy had a new beau, and Cyra had been inundated with marriage offers upon her return to Hallowdale. Dareena was surprised when Cyra told her she had not accepted a single one—some of them were from very wealthy and handsome nobles and merchants.
“I have decided that handsome is not enough these days,” Cyra said gaily when Dareena protested her lack of a decision. “After hearing you fell in love with not one but all three of your suitors, I have decided I shall not marry a man unless I feel a deep and unwavering affection for him, and that he returns it.”
“I suppose I cannot argue with that.” Dareena laughed. “Though please, do not mention it to the council. If they hear that my relationship with the princes is already beginning to influence women, they will start protesting the wedding all over again.”
“I don’t care how loudly they protest,” Drystan growled, wrapping his arms around her from behind. Cyra and Tildy giggled when he kissed her neck. “There is no force in this world that could stop us from being married.”
Dareena sighed happily as she leaned against Drystan. “I am so glad you are not angry at me anymore. The things I said to you—”
“Have already been forgotten,” Drystan said. “I should have known better than to take them to heart. Any fool could have seen that you were not yourself. I am the king of all idiots.”
Alistair laughed. “Don’t be so dramatic,” he said, cuffing Drystan on the head.
“It’s a bit late to tell him that,” Lucyan said, getting to his feet, his arms laden with gadgets. “Our brother has had a flair for the dramatic since he came out of the womb.”
“Like you are one to talk,” Drystan snapped. “You were practically made for the theater, Lucyan, the way you prance about.”
“Did you really take all this off this little woman’s person?” Alistair asked as Lucyan dumped the items on Drystan’s desk.
Lucyan nodded. “Warlock spies are very adept at concealing their weapons and tools,” he said. “Come have a look at her now.”
They all crowded around Soldian’s body. “By the gods,” Cyra gasped as they stared. “She looks completely different.”
“Her face finally matches her character,” Dareena murmured. Without the disguise charm, Soldian was a hard-featured woman of about thirty, with a fuller figure and much lighter hair. She could hardly believe this was the same sweet-faced girl who had been following her around, doting on her hand and foot and giving her massages. She shuddered as she looked at the woman’s hands, which were thinner, the fingers longer and calloused, likely from weapons training.
She lifted her gaze to Alistair. “You need to start bringing me to the training room for lessons.”