I can’t do that, Commander.” My tone is formal. A soldier’s words.

“Don’t make this worse. Step away from the Prince.”

I cast about, desperately seeking a friendly face. A voice of reason. My eyes find Esarik, urging him to speak. One of the black-robed physicians speaks something in his ear. The Trelian looks stricken but stays silent.

“It worked once,” I say. “We tested it. It will work again. Just give her time.”

“Time is not on anyone’s side, least of all yours. Now stand down.” There’s something so calm about the Commander, even more than his usual aura of authority. Why does he not seem distraught? At least disappointed? Is it that he’d long given up hope for his little brother? Or did he expect all along that the cure wouldn’t work?

“Iddo,” I implore. “I understand. You’re a pragmatist. I am, too. But the things I’ve seen over these past moons, the things Rakel has done … I believe she’s Nisai’s only hope. Please. I love him every bit as much as you do.”

The Commander’s calm shatters. “How dare you speak of love. The love of a traitor is no love at all.” He draws himself up to his full height, head and shoulders above me and almost every other guard in the room. “This is your last warning.”

“No.” For the second time since arriving at the palace all those turns ago, I’m disobeying a direct order from a member of the imperial family. I thought I’d be in turmoil, but this time, I know my own heart.

The Commander appears incredulous. “No?”

I hold my ground. “You heard me.”

Iddo signals one of the guards. Behind me, there’s a commotion.

“Ash?” Rakel’s voice quavers.

I risk a glance over my shoulder. They have her. One of the guards points his blade at her throat as he maneuvers her away from Nisai’s still-trembling but comatose form.

And at that sight, how they hold the lives of the two people I care most for in this world in their hands, something shifts in me. Something that I’ve kept bound, caged, and cowed for half my life, trying to forget that it lurks inside me. That it’s a part of me.

The edges of my vision darken.

The midday sun suddenly casts shadows where it shouldn’t—in the light streaming from the balcony, where the gilt mosaics lining the walls should be glinting.

Deep inside, I feel something shift and stretch, uncurling from its crouch. With each beat of my heart it grows larger, stronger, filling me up as it feeds on my rage.

No. Keep control.

You are a boy, not a beast.

I’m less than ten turns old again. Standing in an alley with my back to the wall, side by side with a young prince. A boy just like me. A curious boy who has wandered into the wrong slum at the wrong time and will pay the price if the two Blazers closing in on us have their way.

A boy, not a beast.

I turn to see Rakel’s eyes go wide. She begins struggling against the guard holding her with his knife blade to her throat, an inch from slicing her life away. A bead of blood trickles down her skin and falls onto the white linen of her robe.

A boy.

The beast sees the redness, too. Deep, mortal crimson. I fight it, try to hold it, keep it down, tighten my grip.

But today, the beast is stronger.