The abandoned hunting lodge stood like a rotten tooth in the moonlight, its sagging roof dripping rainwater onto the overgrown path. Seraphine's muscles screamed as Kaelan hauled her off the horse, his grip unrelenting even when she dug her nails into his wrist.
"Let. Go." She twisted in his grasp, her sodden skirts tangling around her legs.
Kaelan ignored her, kicking open the door with a boot that had seen better days. The scent of mildew and old blood hit her like a slap. "Welcome to your temporary palace, princess."
A fire already burned in the hearth.
Seraphine froze.
Three figures rose from the shadows—a woman with a crossbow lazily propped on her shoulder, a giant of a man cleaning his nails with a knife, and a boy barely old enough to shave, flipping a gold coin between his fingers.
"Took you long enough," the woman drawled. Her eyes—one brown, one milky white—raked over Seraphine. "This the poison bride?"
Kaelan finally released her arm. "Play nice, Rook. She's had a trying evening."
The giant snorted. "Trying? She looks like she bathed in a butcher's shop."
Seraphine wiped her bloody hands on what remained of her wedding gown. "And you look like someone stretched a man over a barrel. Shall we continue exchanging compliments, or are you going to tell me why I'm here?"
The boy whistled. "Oh, I like her."
Kaelan strode to the fire, pouring amber liquid into a dented cup. "Meet my associates. Rook—" he nodded to the woman, "—Brick," the giant, "and Pip." The boy grinned. "They're going to help us kill your ex-fiancé."
Seraphine's laugh was sharp enough to draw blood. "You expect me to believe this circus can overthrow a prince?"
Rook's crossbow twitched. "We overthrew a king last winter. Granted, he was senile and pissing himself by the end, but the principle stands."
Pip tossed her the gold coin. Seraphine caught it on instinct—then recoiled as she recognized the stamped profile. Her father.
"Your family's been busy," Kaelan murmured, watching her over the rim of his cup. "While you were picking out wedding lace, your dear sister was emptying the Vaelis coffers into Tristan's pockets. That's your mother's dowery coin."
The metal burned in her palm. "You're lying."
Brick heaved a sack onto the table. It landed with a thud, the drawstring loosening to reveal a familiar sapphire necklace—the one she'd watched Yvaine fasten that very morning. "Stole this off her pretty neck when we grabbed the boy here." He jerked a thumb at Pip.
Seraphine's breath hitched. "That's not—"
"Proof?" Kaelan sets his cup down. "Open the bedroom door."
The wood groaned as she pushed it open.
Her sister's maid hung from the rafters, her tongue blackened, a vial still clutched in her stiff fingers. The stench of almonds clung to the corpse.
"Recognize the poison?" Kaelan's voice was velvet over steel. "Your signature, isn't it? Wolfsbane and honey, just like the vial you keep in your left garter."
Seraphine's stomach turned to ice. "I didn't—"
"They framed you for the murder, too. Clever." Rook examined her nails. "Tristan's telling the court you went mad after he rejected you. That you slaughtered your own maid in a fit of jealousy."
Pip tossed another coin. "Execution orders went out at sunset."
The walls pressed closer. Seraphine's vision swam. Every breath tasted of betrayal and bile.
Kaelan caught her elbow as her knees buckled. "Breathe, viper. The game's not over yet." His thumb brushed the racing pulse at her wrist. "We have the real maid's body. The one they'll hang in your place is just pig's blood and straw."
She wrenched away. "Why? What do you want from me?"
Moonlight cut through the broken shutters, painting Kaelan's smile in silver and shadow. "The same thing you do, darling. To watch the Thorn Court burn."
Outside, an owl cried .
Somewhere in the forest, a twig broke.
Seraphine touched the dagger at her hip—the one she'd stolen from the dead assassin—and made her choice.
"Tell me where to sign"