Prim stared at Sarasha, chewing her lip as the bright sun beat down on her and the sound of the river filled her ears. “What about Torra? Is she like Egan or Neros?”

The Lanhami princess seemed to very much love and support Egan. She could be just as disturbed. And she was still at the complex with unfettered access to Kallia. Dante wrapped his hand around Prim’s neck, rubbing his thumb over her nape, obviously hearing her body’s reaction to the panic now coursing through her.

“She’s not like either of them,” Sarasha said with furrowed brows. “She’s not ambitious like Neros or insane like Egan.”

That didn’t calm Prim’s worries. “She didn’t seem to view you favorably. She said you made Egan kill Neros.”

Sarasha huffed an incredulous breath. “Torra doesn’t live at the castle. She stays at the girl’s boarding school the younger princess attends and has for years. She doesn’t know me. And she certainly doesn’t know Egan as well as she thinks she does.”

“Would she harm Kallia?”

The fae shook her head. “She just has a bit of blind loyalty to her family. That doesn’t make her evil.”

For several moments, the only sound was the rushing river. Prim closed her eyes, trying to recall any other horrible thing the fae might have done. But everything seemed to make sense. She wasn’t party to Egan’s actions.

“You took him out of the city because you thought he saved your life when he rescued you?” Prim asked, though she knew the answer.

“A debt is a debt, even to a monster. He knew about Dante’s scenting gift. He thought flying would cover his tracks.” Sarasha slowly dragged her eyes to Dante. “Is your brother okay? I tried to keep him from hurting him.”

“He’s fine,” he said, then licked his lips. “Thank you.”

Prim turned her attention to Dante and saw the pure gratitude on his face. She twisted her lips, admitting to herself Sarasha wasn’t the villain here. She looked over the bruised face of the young woman.

“What happened to you?” Prim asked again, this time gently.

Sarasha closed her eyes. “I left him on the coast by Hogard. He…was reluctant to let me leave. I don’t know where he was heading, but if you can find me, I’m sure you can find him,” she said, unaware that he’d already been found and was floating just beyond the treeline. She opened her eyes. “Make him pay.”

Prim didn’t press, only nodded and turned to walk back toward the woods and the avian shifters to regroup before returning to Hogard. She stopped and turned back when Dante didn’t join her.

“What do you think is a fitting punishment for him? What would make him suffer enough?” he asked the fae, his face hardened.

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Sarasha shook her head. “I don’t care about his suffering. I’d rather you just ensure he never hurts anyone else ever again.”

She wanted him dead. But he wanted to die, so death would be too merciful.

Dante and Sarasha stared at one another for a long moment, and Prim reached out to grip his arm, intending to pull him back. They were done here.

But he stood firm, not letting Prim tug him. He looked over his shoulder at her. “You don’t want me to…” he nodded toward the fae.

Prim shook her head, all feelings of vengeance toward Sarasha having vanished over the course of their conversation. She didn’t deserve to rot in the dungeons. With a final look toward the fae, both retreated to the trees.

“I don’t want to go back to Lanham,” Sarasha called after them, causing Prim to stop. “Mindmolders are forced to work for the crown there. I didn’t mind serving Neros, but with him gone, I don’t want to go back.”

“Then don’t,” Dante said, wrapping his arm around Prim and guiding her away.

Prim stopped again after a step, looking at Dante. “This doesn’t feel right,” she repeated his words from earlier before addressing the fae. “I’ll talk to Kallia. I’m sure she’d be interested in having a mindmolder on call again, if you don't take issue with serving her.”

A smile lighted the woman’s face despite the damage it bore. “I don’t. I would love the opportunity to stay in Hogard,” she said breathlessly.

Prim nodded. “Give me three days to spread the news that you weren’t involved and try to convince Torra you weren’t to blame for Egan’s actions, then meet me at the tea shop across from the complex for lunch.” Better to meet outside the complex in case Prim wasn’t successful.

Sarasha’s body relaxed, signaling Blukke had released her. Both avian shifters took to the sky, and Prim climbed into Dante’s arms so they could follow. The fae remained on the ground, though no longer wrapped her wings around herself. Once over the treeline, Egan’s floating form came into view.

“She’s dead,” Prim said to him. “I carved her up real nice.”

His face went white with rage, which only made Prim more vicious, thinking about what he himself had done to the fae--how dare he act like that when he’d used his fists to beat her face and his water magic to nearly drown her? The blue lips were a sure sign of it. And Prim would never forget what he’d done to Roan. Or Neros and the guards, for that matter. Or what he tried to have done to Kallia. Not for one second.

“You want to know her last words?” Prim asked, Dante’s wings beating in a steady rhythm that kept them right in front of the prince. She didn’t wait for his answer. “She said we got it wrong, that she wasn’t involved with the murders or the assassination plot. She said it was all you, and that you were disturbed. A monster. That she hated you. I knew them for the lies they were and cut out her tongue. I’d give it to you as a reminder of all those nights you must have spent together, but it fell into the river and a big fish gobbled it right up. As for her very last words, I couldn’t tell you. The missing tongue made them a bit hard to decipher.”

Egan began to scream with fury, but it was quickly muffled; Dante must have cast another phantom hand to cover his mouth. With that, they flew north toward home, Egan bobbing along behind them.

“Should I be laughing or concerned about your little speech?” Dante asked, speaking directly into her ear so the words weren’t carried away by the wind.

“Yes,” she said, her mouth somewhere between a smile and a grimace.

“Fair enough.” She couldn’t hear his soft chuckles over the wind, but she knew them by the quaking of his chest against her.