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“We need answers.” Sterling swirls the amber liquid in his glass. “The ceremony will offer pageantry, not solutions.”

“Agreed.” Rafe nods, his expression grim. “These people are scared. Eyril has been their equalizer for centuries. Without it, the balance of power shifts completely in our favor.”

I tap my fingers against my glass as an idea forms. “While we’re praying at dawn, we need to know what’s happening outside the temple. Do some discreet exploration of the city instead.”

Agnar straightens, intrigued. “You want us to eavesdrop on the locals?”

“I want you to take the pulse of Tír Ríoga,” I clarify. “Visit the markets, the taverns, listen to what ordinary people are saying about magic. About us.”

Rafe’s eyes narrow in thought. “You believe there’s more happening than diplomatic posturing.”

“There’s always more happening than what we see in court.” I sip more of the strong liquor, careful not to drink too much at once on an empty stomach. “And we need to understand the full picture before we can find solutions.”

Sterling shoots me an appreciative glance that warms me more than the alcohol. “Good thinking. What we need to know won’t be shown in front of the king, queens, and prince.”

“Meanwhile, you’ll be sitting through a meaningless ceremony.” Agnar grins. “This is why you’re my favorite monarch.”

I smile despite myself. “Just don’t get caught or do anything to draw attention. The last thing we need is to be accused of spying on top of everything else.”

Rafe downs the rest of his drink in one swallow. “We’ll be inconspicuous. I know how to blend in.”

Agnar winks. “I’ll teach him. By tomorrow, he’ll be swearing like a dockworker and walking with a proper commoner’s slouch.”

“I am the Master of the Guilds.” Rafe raises his chin, peering down his nose at Agnar. “I know how to talk with the common man. And I dine with them at least once a year.”

Another laughing fit overtakes Agnar as he claps the man on the shoulder and leads him out.

I worry that these diplomatic tensions may be just the beginning of a much larger conflict. One that none of our kingdoms can afford to fight.

I frown when I catch Sterling watching me, his expression pensive. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He shakes his head. “Just thinking that Tirene has the right queen for these troubled times.”

“A queen who fantasizes about murdering diplomats?”

“A queen who looks beyond the obvious.” He rises to stand before me, coasting his fingers down my arms and trailing featherlight kisses down my neck. “Who sends her people to find the truth while others give in to fear.”

A thrill zips down my spine just thinking about what those fingers can do. “Careful. We don’t have much time before dinner.”

Sterling’s warm, spirit-laced breath tickles my ear. “Then consider what I’m about to do to you an appetizer.”

Chapter Thirteen

My neck aches from the effort of keeping my chin level, my spine straight, and my shoulders back. The blustering predawn air feels thick with the unknown. It hums with expectation as eyes track our procession toward the Divine Commons. Much of yesterday’s snow melted into slush, and I’ve never been more grateful for my heavy leather boots.

No fancy slippers in this climate. At least not outdoors.

Beside me, Sterling marches with the measured pace of a soldier, but his attention keeps drifting to every fountain, every well, every frozen body of water we pass. It’s not like him.

Not during something this important.

And that tiny deviation from his usual focus gnaws at my already frayed nerves.

I try to match Queen Maeve’s graceful stride, the way she seems to glide rather than walk, feet barely disturbing the ancient stones beneath us. These pathways have been worn smooth by centuries of pilgrims’ feet, and now they bear the weight of four kingdoms’ diplomats and royals.

I should be honored. Instead, I feel like an imposter. A Tirenese noble child raised in Aclaris who’s somehow become Tirene’s queen.

The nobles trail behind us in their finery, their faces carefully arranged into political masks. We encounter citizens along the route with far more honest expressions. Some hopeful, some suspicious, many simply afraid.