Ciaran left Ophelia in the southern gardens to enjoy the rest of the evening, then headed into the palace to find his brother. Bane’s paw steps were nearly silent as he heeled next to Ciaran. Nail trims were an important part of his extensive grooming and physical conditioning regimen; there were no claws clicking on the marble floors in this palace.

They passed through hall after hall, occasionally catching glimpses of the party guests through open windows. Eventually they entered the hallway that led to Nolan’s office. Paintings of Ciaran’s ancestors lined the long room. His eyes rested briefly on the painting of Nolan, hung in the spot where their father’s portrait had previously hung.

As far as Ciaran knew, no other monarch’s painting had been completely replaced by their successor’s, but no one had objected when Nolan ordered it to be taken down after his coronation. Ciaran himself had been happy to see their father’s portrait go.

It had been almost twenty years to the day since his father had shot and killed his mother. He couldn’t bring himself to meet the eyes of his mother in her painting, and so he turned and headed towards Nolan’s office once again.

When he rounded the corner, he stopped dead in his tracks, blinking a few times to be sure his eyes weren’t fooling him. A group of ten guards, each armed to the teeth, stood watch in front of the door. There were far more here than Ciaran was used to, and he didn’t recognize any of them. Bane was apparently startled by the new guards as well, judging by his raised hackles and the low uff he emitted.

“Easy, boy,” Ciaran said, tousling the dog’s ear.

Ciaran strode towards the door past the guards but was halted by a firm hand on his chest.

“No entry to anyone besides the king,” the unfamiliar guard said.

“Pardon me?”

Ciaran had intended it to be a warning, a second chance to amend an insult. But the guard didn’t even flinch under his gaze, nor did he remove his hand from Ciaran’s chest.

“No one is allowed to see the king today,” the guard said.

Ciaran stared at the strange guard for a moment, unsure if this was some sort of odd joke. Nolan had been increasingly illusive the last several years, but he’d never outright forbidden Ciaran from visiting him.

“No one except his brother, perhaps,” Ciaran said, pushing the man’s hand away. “If I don’t tell him happy birthday, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

As Ciaran stepped past the guard, the man snatched his arm, holding him in place with a firm grip. Bane snarled so savagely that the guard released Ciaran immediately, eyeing the dog with apprehension.

“Stand down!” came a familiar voice.

Ciaran turned as a squat man with flushed cheeks approached. The man bowed when he reached the prince, fully exposing the bare patch of pale skin at the top of his head. Thomson was one of the royal family’s longest-serving guards, and Ciaran’s relief at seeing him was immediate.

“What the hell are you doing?” Thomson snapped to the new guards. “Let His Highness through immediately!”

“But the king said—”

“His Majesty has made an exception for His Highness.” Thomson turned toward Ciaran and bowed. “I would be happy to escort you, Your Highness.”

Ciaran nodded, and Thomson shoved the insubordinate guard aside. As Ciaran followed, he glanced back at the new guards. They had an unnatural stillness, like a predator eyeing its prey, and each of them maintained unwavering eye contact with him as he passed, as if daring him to make one wrong move. No one had ever stared Ciaran down like that, much less a royal guard.

Bane apparently had the same impression. A low growl rumbled in his chest as he passed the strange guards, his hackles raised long after the three of them had entered the next hallway.

“I do apologize for the inconvenience, Your Highness,” Thomson said, brushing his waistcoat with short, agitated strokes. “These new guards haven’t the slightest idea what they’re doing. No respect for the crown. Don’t know where your brother dug them up. You’d think with as paranoid as he’s been lately, he’d—”

Thomson’s eyes widened, and he stopped mid-stride to bow again.

“Not that I would ever speak ill of His Majesty, Your Highness,” he said to the floor.

“Don’t worry, Thomson,” Ciaran said with a smile and shrug. “You know I’d never tattle on you.”

Thomson straightened, and his smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I see all those years I spent sneaking you extra pastries after supper have paid off.”

“What can I say? My loyalties are easily bought.”

“I remember when you barely came up to my waist,” Thomson said with a chuckle. “And look at you now. I have to crane my neck to see your face!” He sighed. “I wish Her Majesty could have seen you grown.”

Ciaran’s smile faded, and a knot settled in his stomach. Perhaps it was a mercy that his mother wasn’t here to witness her sons tear each other apart. Or perhaps Nolan never would have gone off the deep end if she were still here. Perhaps Ciaran would still have his brother if he hadn’t been forced to assume the crown so young.

“Well, here we are.”

Thomson’s voice broke Ciaran from his ruminations. They stood at the door to Nolan’s office at the far end of the hallway. Ciaran’s heart hammered in his chest.

“Your Highness … ” Thomson began, tugging at the sleeves of his tailcoat.

The apprehension in the old guard’s voice brought Ciaran’s focus solely on him.

“Is something wrong?” Ciaran asked.

“I just … please be careful in there, Your Highness. I do believe your brother cares for you, but … ” He fiddled with a button on his waistcoat. “I’ve seen what the throne can do to a man’s mind.”

Hearing the concern voiced by someone else, as if it were absolute, only made Ciaran second guess himself more. It seemed like such an absurd thing to say out loud. Surely Thomson was wrong. Surely Nolan could still be reasoned with. Surely Ciaran wouldn’t have to kill his own brother.

“Thank you, Thomson,” Ciaran said. “You’re dismissed.”

The old guard bowed, then took his leave. As Ciaran watched the man disappear behind the door at the far end of the hall, he pulled a flask from his coat pocket and took a deep swig of the potent rum. He waited for the numbness to reach his head and warm his chest, then took a deep breath and knocked on Nolan’s door.

“Enter,” came Nolan’s voice.

Ciaran patted his dog’s head for reassurance, and Bane’s tail wagged. Ciaran palmed the lodestone in his pocket. There wasn’t enough power there to do any real damage, but it would be enough to create a distraction should this conversation take a turn for the worse. He smoothed the silk lapels of his frock coat, squared his shoulders, and pushed the door open.

His footsteps echoed in the long room of Nolan’s office as he approached his brother, who was engrossed in reading the papers strewn across his desk. Ciaran’s eyes flicked to the additional guards that stood behind Nolan. He didn’t recognize any of these guards, either. Something about them seemed twitchy and eager for a reason to use the arsenal they wore.

Paintings and photographs lined the length of the room, but his eyes naturally locked onto the enormous portrait on the wall directly behind Nolan. His mother watched him from within the ornate frame. He shook his head and looked back to Nolan.

“I understand if you don’t want to see me, but you could at least let Bane tell you happy birthday. You’ll break his little heart.”

Nolan glanced up at Ciaran with a smile. There were dark circles and deep lines drooping from his eyes, and Ciaran was sure he looked a few pounds lighter than the last time he’d seen him.

“I’m sorry,” Nolan said. “The guards have been a little overzealous today.”

“I’m guessing they still haven’t caught that woman?” Ciaran took a seat in one of the plush, high-backed chairs that faced Nolan’s desk. Bane sat next to Ciaran, his hackles once again raised. The dog’s nostrils flared as he analyzed each of the strange guards surrounding the room.

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Nolan leaned back in his chair and shook his head.

“And the guards were worried she was a diversion for a direct attack on the palace, I’m assuming,” Ciaran said.

“Yes, though I didn’t share the same concern.”

“You think it’s just the one woman working on her own? Why?”

Nolan smiled and shook his head, the way that a parent would decline to answer a question that was too mature for a child to understand. Ciaran bristled, but pushed his annoyance away.

“It doesn’t matter,” Nolan said. “Their kind won’t be a concern to us for much longer, anyway.”

Ciaran’s brows drew together. “Are you planning another attack on them?”

“That’s nothing for you to worry about,” Nolan said.

Ciaran’s blood turned to ice. Another attack would only draw more of these creatures’ ire, not to mention draw resources away from the war that actually mattered. He swallowed and considered his next words carefully.

“Are you sure that’s wise? The last attack didn’t exactly end well.”

“The last attack was a success,” Nolan said, an irritated edge to his voice. There was nothing he hated more than being second-guessed. “Casualties are an inevitability of war, and we have a way to mitigate those now.”

It took a moment for Ciaran to realize what Nolan meant.

“You have some kind of weapon against them?” he asked.

“We will, in due time.”

“Nolan, this isn’t what Mother would have … ”

Nolan’s expression caused the words to die on Ciaran’s lips.

“I only meant … you’re working yourself to death. You should take some time to relax every once in a while.”

Nolan’s shoulders lowered. “Then you’ll be glad to hear that I’ll be at the vacation house for the next month.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Yes, in a few hours. I just have a few matters to attend to here before I leave.”

This complicated things. Ciaran knew the royal palace like the back of his hand. He knew each guard’s patrol, each secret passage beneath the ground, the bypass for each protective spell and ward. It wouldn’t be easy to sneak an assassin inside, but it would be possible.

The vacation house was a different story. Ciaran didn’t believe for a second that Nolan was going there to relax. The secluded property had become Nolan’s base of operations, particularly for matters he wanted to keep secret from Ciaran. He had only vague ideas of what security measures were in place there.

“But … isn’t it dangerous to leave tonight?” Ciaran asked.

Bane growled softly at Ciaran’s side, his eyes locked on the guard closest to Nolan. The man had dark brown skin and a jagged scar above his lip, and he glared at Bane in a way that Ciaran found particularly offensive.

Ciaran hushed Bane, but the dog’s interruption seemed to have snapped Nolan out of his uncharacteristic willingness to discuss his affairs with his brother.

“It’s not your concern, Ciaran,” he said. “I have this under control.”

Ciaran decided not to push the subject. Nolan wasn’t going to tell him anything else about this weapon or his plans willingly, and prodding too much would look suspicious.

Ciaran leaned back in the chair and said, “Can’t help but notice that you never invite me when you go on holiday. Is it the pressures of the kingdom you’re trying to escape, or just your annoying little brother?”

“Noticed that, have you?” Nolan said with a smile. “Perhaps you inherited some of Mother’s brains after all.”

“I thought we’d already agreed you got all of her brains and I got all of her good looks? Are you finally admitting that I got both?”

Nolan laughed, and Ciaran considered how long it had been since he’d last heard the sound. They’d laughed together often as boys.

Nolan sobered, and Ciaran forced himself to not balk under his brother’s solemn gaze. He arranged his face in a way that he hoped didn’t announce his guilt.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so distant, Ciaran,” Nolan said quietly. “I’m not trying to avoid you. I swear it. I know I haven’t been there for you the way I should. Sometimes I wish … ” He shook his head. “I promise I’ll try to carve out some time for you when I get back.”

Ciaran nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Nolan gave him a cocked smile and said, “Speaking of time, I don’t have much of it. Was there a reason you needed to pester me, annoying little brother?”

Ciaran stood and straightened his waistcoat, hoping to look as casual as possible. He couldn’t help but glance at the guards behind Nolan.

“Oh, nothing important,” he said. “I just wanted to let you know I’ll be staying at the downtown penthouse this weekend. Vincent needs to get his things. I didn’t want you to worry.”

Too late for that. Worry etched even more lines into Nolan’s exhausted face. He leaned forward, arms resting on his messy desk.

“Ciaran, can’t that wait until we’ve caught this criminal? Or at least until I’ve come back from holiday?”

“I’ll have Bane with me,” Ciaran said, casually backing up towards the exit. He needed to get out before Nolan outright told him no. “And you know how heavily guarded that building is. I’ll be fine.”

“You can’t promise that,” Nolan said, rising to his feet. “We have no idea where she is or if there are any others with her. Do you really think you’re going to fare any better than the hundreds of soldiers those beasts have killed?”

“Yes, because they’re clearly not after me.” Ciaran turned and headed to the door with purpose. Bane stayed obediently at his side, though his head and tail were held low. He hated it when Ciaran and Nolan argued.

“If you think she’s not above using you to get to me, you’re delusional. These are monsters, Ciaran. They’ll do whatever they think is necessary to destroy us.”

“You can’t stop me from going where I please, Nolan!” Ciaran said, whirling to face his brother again.

“The hell I can’t! I am your king!”

“So is this where we are now?” Ciaran said with a bitter laugh. “You’re going to use your rank against me?”

“I am trying to keep you safe! What the hell do you want from me, Ciaran?”

“I want you to go back to acting like my brother and not my father!”

He immediately wished he could take those words out of the air and put them back in his mouth. Nolan stood deathly silent at the other end of the room. Ciaran half expected him to order the guards to shoot him, and he half wished he would. At least it would break the tension in the room.

But Nolan only waved to the guards and said, “Get him out of here.”

As the guards approached, Bane stiffened, his head low and hackles high. He growled a warning that the guards did not heed.

“Bane, easy,” Ciaran commanded. He grabbed the dog’s collar, hoping to drag him away before he got himself in trouble, but Bane was immovable. Ciaran’s heart leaped into his throat. His dog had never willfully disobeyed like this, and he’d never acted hostile to palace guards.

“Bane, that’s enough,” Ciaran said, but it was too late.

The guard with the jagged scar above his lip grabbed Ciaran’s arm, and in a blur of brown fur, Bane latched himself onto the man’s arm, snarling and shaking his head to pull the man to the ground. Blood splattered across the crisp marble floors, and Ciaran forced away his lightheadedness at the sight. He needed to get control over his dog.

“Bane, out!”

Bane released his jaws the instant he heard the command, but he continued to snarl and snap, straining against Ciaran’s grip on his collar. Ciaran’s eyes flicked to the guards as they reached for their pistols and took aim at his dog.

“No! Don’t touch him!”

Without thinking, Ciaran reached inside his pocket for the lodestone. He threw it to the ground, where it erupted into a short wall of fire, enough to spook his dog and force the guards away. Ciaran tackled Bane, then dragged the dog onto his lap to restrain him.

Ciaran’s pulse roared in his ears as he stared at Nolan over the flames. The guards still held their pistols level, awaiting a command from Nolan or another misstep from Ciaran or his dog. Nolan didn’t move a muscle, but even from a distance, Ciaran was sure he could see his clenched jaw.

Nolan stepped around his desk and approached Ciaran and Bane as the flames flickered and died. Ciaran craned his neck to look up at Nolan as his brother loomed over him. He’d never been afraid of Nolan before, and the sensation nauseated him.

Nolan’s voice was low when he spoke, and for a brief, terrifying moment, Ciaran thought he spoke with their father’s voice.

“The only reason I’m not ordering your dog to be put down is because I know what that would do to you. You are not to bring him or any other weapon into my office again, and you are not to leave this palace while I am gone. Do you understand me?”

Ciaran dropped his gaze, his free hand moving to grip his dog’s short fur, the same way he did when Nolan had chastised him as a little boy.

“Yes,” he said.

“Good. Now get out.”

Ciaran stood and bowed stiffly to his brother, hand still firmly on Bane’s collar, then turned and marched out the door. Bane trotted next to him, growls still rumbling from his throat.

They walked past the guards on the other side without a word. Ciaran managed to keep his composure until they were all the way at the end of the hall and around the corner. He stepped into a small alcove and scooped Bane up off the floor, crushing him into a hug.

“What the fuck were you thinking? You know how paranoid he’s getting and you pull a stunt like that?”

Bane, of course, did not answer. He instead committed to covering every square inch of Ciaran’s face with slobber, his tail wagging so hard Ciaran worried it would split open as it slammed into the wall next to them over and over.

Ciaran set him down, then leaned his back against the wall and slumped to the floor. He pulled the flask from his coat again, his shaking hands causing him to fumble it a couple times before he brought it to his lips. Bane laid down next to him, resting his head in his owner’s lap.

Nolan had never threatened him that way before. Whatever tiny shred of hope Ciaran had that Nolan could be reasoned with had been destroyed in that office.

Ciaran had run out of options. Nolan and his guards were getting so paranoid that it was only a matter of time before they shot him—or worse, Bane—just for looking at his brother the wrong way. He needed to find someone to take Nolan out. Someone who was capable of killing, and who wanted Nolan gone even more than he did.

He knew exactly the person for the job, and he knew exactly how to find her.