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“If I wanted to kill you, I would not waste good food to do it.”

“You couldn’t use your specter,” I slurred, and then startled at my own remark. My head was muffling as though with cotton. Had I just suggested that the empress’s power was too weak to do any damage?

More astonishingly, was she now chuckling at my insult?

“Whoever said I would need my specter?” Still smiling, Rheya parted the slit in her skirt to reveal the dagger strapped at her thigh. Her voice dropped, a shade more serious. “As powerful as it may be, your specter should never be the greatest tool in your arsenal. For it could then, very quickly, become your greatest weakness.”

I swallowed as she readjusted her skirt. Needing something to counteract the dryness in my mouth, I took a ripe strawberry.

Rheya watched me with an odd satisfaction as I chewed.

“Keil didn’t want you to see me,” I said.

Rheya rolled her eyes. “Yes, he’s as dramatic as his father was. His sister is far more balanced.” She cocked her head, dark hair gliding over her shoulder. “You, too, strike me as an astute young woman. I hope you will prove me right by speaking honestly.”

She said those last words with enough meaning that I glanced at Arun, who was already watching me, smirking. Because he would know if I lied, wouldn’t he?

That vague sense of warning flared again. Then, as though searching for a buoy at sea, I looked groggily toward Stian. He gave a nod of reassurance, and the motion settled me.

“Was King Erik aware of your presence on Banarrat when he arrived?” Rheya asked, recapturing my attention.

I frowned, and my face felt oddly loose, like biscuit dough left out in the sun. I had to repeat her question in my mind to understand it. “Yes.”

“Did he inform you how he was aware?”

“Ask your minister,” I said. “He always has the answers, doesn’t he?”

Arun’s eyes narrowed a fraction.

“How did Prince Finbar appear to receive King Erik?” Rheya pushed on.

“Finbar? What does he have to do with this?”

“Answer the question, please,” Arun said from his position by the door.

I glared at him. “I thought this was a conversation. Conversations aren’t one-sided.” I looked again at Rheya and felt the room tip with the movement of my eyes. “Why are you asking about Finbar?”

Rheya pursed her lips in displeasure. “King Erik infiltrated Banarrat through an old smuggling route . . . The same route Finbar once used to pass information to rebels.”

I drew back, shocked even in my lethargy.

“After the attack on Banarrat,” Rheya continued grimly, “Finbar disappeared. We believe he facilitated Erik’s assault to breed bad blood between the mainland and the island. To attempt, one last time, to bring about my downfall.”

I shook my head, then winced at the vertigo. Finbar had been the one to aid Erik’s attack?

“But he tried to help us,” I said weakly. “He didn’t even like Erik.”

Rheya nodded. “Is it equally possible,” she asked gently, “that upon meeting your king in the flesh, Finbar began to regret his alliance with such a man?”

I considered this, suddenly uncomfortable. Finbar had seemed concerned about Erik choosing my dress, had watched in horror as the king had hurt Perla on the clifftop. Perhaps he hadn’t come to our aid simply out of decency.

Perhaps it had been from remorse.

My gaze tightened on Arun. Finbar had only ever rebelled against Rheya because he hadn’t trusted the minister. And as Arun met my stare now, with a cool, cutting smile, I knew Finbar had every right to loathe this man.

But in trying to oust him, the prince had unwittingly aided a far worse monster.

“Yes,” I said at last, reluctant. “It’s possible.”