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I didn’t reply. I was suddenly too busy tracking the soldiers’ movements, my eyes widening as the realization dawned on me.

Erik’s soldiers weren’t targeting me. I was a rock in a stream; they flowed around me in a fluid, violent current, and yet never came close enough to do more than stir my hair with their movement.

“He gave them orders not to touch me,” I breathed, witnessing the battle as though from inside a protective bubble.

A bubble I would use to my advantage.

I seized Perla’s arm and said, more firmly now, “Stay behind me.”

I spared Keil a final glance he couldn’t return, then the three of us ran in the direction of Holden’s private tent. We faltered only once, when entering the Crater, stunned at the mayhem that had erupted inside it.

The explosion must have acted as a signal, because Erik’s guards had clearly jumped into action, leaving bloodied bodies and crooked limbs in their wake. Courtiers wailed as Banarrati soldiers flooded into the Crater to defend them, but so much damage had already been done. The lantern canopy had collapsed on one side, trapping a group of courtiers under its ropes, and the abandoned bonfires now threw sinister shadows across the rock-hewn walls.

I took down as many of Erik’s soldiers as I could in our frantic dash toward the tent, whipping my specter against their stomachs, their throats, their heads, leaving a trail of fallen bodies.

I had never been in the midst of battle, and the magnitude of it had yet to hit me; my thoughts had become singular, arranging themselves in order of priority, until all I could truly absorb was my physical discomfort—the hair sticking to my nape, the grit in my eyes, the desperate need for water as my throat grew dry.

Then, mercifully, the tent came into view. We tumbled inside, and I stopped in horror. Less than an hour ago, we’d dined here in a haze of fragrant steam and chandelier light. Now blood splattered the large table, the chandelier hung on its last bolt, and one side of the tent was in tatters. Wind blasted through the scraps, the large nightstone pit sparkling beyond.

I rounded on Finbar. “Where did Holden put the necklace?”

Finbar dashed to the writing desk at the shredded corner of the tent. The longer he rummaged inside its drawer, the more anxious I grew.

“Finbar!” I demanded.

“I—I know it was here.” He pushed his hair off his damp brow. “I saw Holden—”

“Saw me what, Prince?”

At the sound of Holden’s guttural voice, we whirled around. The general stood at the entrance, a longsword in his grasp, half a dozen Banarrati soldiers standing strong behind him. He was soaked from the dive, barefoot and bare-chested, the long, dripping sheet of his hair plastered to his powerful muscles. Though the soles of his feet were bleeding, and fresh cuts littered his body, he didn’t appear weakened.

For the first time, he looked like the man I’d expected to meet when I’d arrived on Banarrat: a general who had ruthlessly clawed his way to power.

And who would kill to keep it.

Despite the sudden knot in my throat, I pretended not to notice the guards behind him, or the threat their presence suggested. “General, thank the gods you’re here.” I stepped forward, covertly putting myself between him and Perla. “We thought we’d lost you in the explosion. What is happening?”

He considered me with such deliberate slowness that I had to clench my specter to keep it from whipping against him. We needed his key to reset Perla’s oath band—the key that was clearly not where Finbar had said it would be.

Which meant I would have to put on one last performance.

“You ask me, Lady Alissa, what is happening?” Holden laughed once, humorless, his chest heaving. Firelight flickered outside, casting rippling shadows across the tent walls. “Since you and your king are apparently so friendly with the mainland, I hoped that you might explain why Ansoran soldiers have swarmed my sands.”

Finbar strode forward and I tensed, prepared for him to spill my secrets just to escape Holden’s wrath. But all he got out was, “Holden, you can’t possibly think—” And then one of the soldiers kneed him so hard in the stomach that Perla and I gasped together, the sharp sound cutting through Finbar’s groan.

“General.” I raised a palm, heart racing as I shifted further in front of Perla. I adjusted my tone, making it firm enough to hold my conviction yet soft enough that he wouldn’t see me as a threat. “I cannot imagine what poison has been whispered in your ear for you to believe we knew about this attack. Would we not have left the island earlier if we had? Would I still be here, unguarded and defenseless?” I risked a step closer, not having to fake my shallow breathing. “Midnight approaches, and Lady Perla is in great danger. If you are truly so mistrustful of those you invited here as your allies, you may temporarily detain us. But I implore you to reset her oath band first.”

Finbar glanced up from where he’d keeled over, pain glassing his eyes, and I knew this was the first he’d heard about the band. That he hadn’t truly understood why we needed the necklace until now.

Holden’s eyes narrowed on Perla. Even over the commotion outside, I could hear her rapid breaths. Could hear the soft whirring of her oath band, its pitch climbing like the whine of a fast-approaching wasp. Though I’d never heard this tone emanating from it, I instinctively knew what it meant: that her time was running out.

At last, Holden exhaled a mocking huff. “It would be a shame to waste you, wouldn’t it?”

With a smirk, he sauntered toward the writing desk, dragging his longsword through the rug and leaving a trail of frayed wool. I stood rigid as he opened the drawer Finbar had already checked.

“Then again,” Holden mused, fingers pausing inside the drawer, “how much value can I truly place on a courtier who disdains the traditions of my island? Who exploits her invitations to my private office to rifle through my belongings?”

My stomach bottomed out. He’d noticed the missing envelope on his desk, the one I had stolen.