Around the table, eyes darted.

“From here. The male traced to Skye Hall.”

A leech had located this kingdom. “How is that possible? A vampire can only trace to a place he’s previously been. And what about our wards?”

“We have no idea how he did it—or if he’ll lead more vampires or demons back here. We’ve posted extra sentries.”

Hidden guards. So that was who’d watched Thronos last night.

“We’re ready to take more action. My liege, this has understandably sent shockwaves through the populace.”

All Thronos had wanted to do was wed Lanthe and come to an understanding with Aristo, or to endeavor to. Now . . .

I am king. The last of his line.

He could scarcely process that his brother was dead—and that the welfare of all these people rested on his shoulders. “Why would the vampire target my brother so specifically?”

Jasen said, “There might . . . there’s a chance King Aristo was one of the four who inflicted those injuries upon Princess Bettina, not understanding who she was.”

His brother might have tortured a tiny young sorceress, intending to burn her alive. Aristo’s voice sounded in his head: “Death to every last one of them!” Though Thronos felt like he couldn’t get enough air, he fought to keep his expression neutral.

“My liege, there’s more. The vampire stole your brother’s fire scythe.”

“This is a grievous loss, but there are three others.” And Thronos didn’t intend for the knights to use the scythes for sorcery harvesting in the future.

Because my word will be law.

“The vampire turned it over to Morgana. She perverted its purpose, using it to loose the powers from the vault. She has reclaimed them all.”

“She emptied the vault?” What else could she do with a scythe?

Jasen nodded. “She sent some of the powers out into the ether to reach their original possessors. We know this because a few of the Sorceri here received theirs.”

Melanthe asked, “Where are they?”

“They fled. As far as we can tell, one of them reclaimed a teleportation ability. The rest left with him.”

Fled. So they had been as miserable as Melanthe had said, escaping at the first opportunity.

Thronos gazed at her. —You were right. About everything.—

Lanthe didn’t necessarily want to be right, now that she’d signed on for life above the clouds. Nor was she pleased about being queen of the Vrekeners.

Queen of any other faction? Sure, why not!

But these people?

Another male rose to speak, another knight. Melanthe didn’t like the looks of him. He was waxy-skinned with light hair and eyes. He had one of the beefier builds among the males. Where the other Vrekeners struck her as still-waters-run-deep types, this guy seemed smarmy—like some of the Sorceri courtiers she’d known.

“My liege, four factions of the Lore have declared war on us. If we count the Sorceri’s age-old declaration, that brings the total to five.”

Just weeks ago, Lanthe would’ve been heartened by this development. Now she was part of the us.

Even when Thronos was faced with this news, his shoulders remained squared. And she wanted to kiss him for it. “Tell me, Cadmus.”

“The rage demons, the House of Witches, the Dacians, and not unexpectedly the Deathly Ones.” Though conveying distressing news, Cadmus sounded almost thrilled.

Did war turn him on?

Thronos’s eyes narrowed. “What do we know about these enemies?”

“Not as much as we’d like, my liege,” Jasen answered. Lanthe supposed that Vrekener wasn’t too bad. Compared to Cadmus, Jasen struck her as a levelheaded font of reason. “The Dacians live in a secreted realm, but they have very recently begun opening up communications with outside factions. Their newly crowned king is Lothaire, the Enemy of Old.”

Lothaire? Like a bad penny!

Thronos turned to her. “You know him.”

“I do. If we can deliver a missive to him, I will try to establish a dialogue.”

Thronos told her, “We have a station on the ground, with messengers awaiting.”

“Good. I don’t know why he would declare war. It seems random.”

Jasen answered, “The new king of the Deathly Ones is a Dacian royal. We believe Lothaire is backing his relative.”

“I expected the rage demons to declare war,” Thronos said. Because of me. “Now it becomes clear why the Deathly Ones and the Dacians have. But what of the House of Witches? Are they not in the Vertas alliance? The House has always maintained an uneasy truce with the Vrekeners, no matter how closely their faction is related to the Sorceri.”

Historically, witches and Sorceri hadn’t been chummy. Unlike Lanthe and Carrow.

Cadmus shrugged. “We don’t know why they call us enemy.”

Lanthe did. She’d bet Carrow had survived the island and was still trying to get Lanthe’s back. I knew I liked that witch.

Cadmus said, “It’s my recommendation that we strike back against the vampire who stole into our kingdom, sending Vrekener might to crush the Deathly Ones. If the Dacians want a war, we can give them a reckoning.”

Thronos intoned, “You’re quick to want war for a kingdom in flux.”

Cadmus’s lips thinned. “King Aristo was given no death rites—because the vampire made a gift of your brother’s head to the princess in that sick demon tournament,” he said, again seeming to relish delivering the gruesome news.