I FROZE, MY BLOOD pumping through my veins. The humidity and my own sharp fear made my hands slick as I clung to the bark, my heart crashing against my lungs, stealing my breath.

Rafe said something in their language, pointing at my tree, and a few of the men pulled out swords and began to stalk forward. It was dark enough that they probably couldn’t see me hiding on my branch — yet. But I wasn’t dressed to blend in at night; I still wore the uniform of the king’s guard: a white tunic, my dark vest, breeches, and boots.

I stiffened, preparing to fight. This was it — they were going to find me, and I’d have no choice but to try and cut my way through them and get to Jax before they could do something to him. I was good, but the odds were not in my favor.

Then the monkey shocked me by dropping down another two branches and chattering loudly at the men.

They paused and started to laugh, their attention on the monkey. One of them called something over his shoulder, and Rafe shook his head, turning away with a look of disgust on his face. The soldiers resheathed their swords and walked back to camp, leaving me trembling on my branch.

The monkey swung back up toward me, pausing for a moment to look at me and then moving on, continuing to climb higher into the tree.

“Thank you,” I whispered to my little friend. That monkey had probably just saved my life — and Jax’s.

*  *  *  

Rafe sat down near the fire, watching his men rush around as they prepared a late dinner. He’d occasionally say something to them, and they’d hurry to do his bidding. I wished I understood Dansiian, because I had no idea what was being said. Jax also watched them work with longing on his face as the scent of roasted meat wafted through the heavy air of night. I glanced up at the darkening sky to see clouds tumbling across the navy expanse, just as I’d predicted. To the west, there were still streaks of crimson and burnt orange, dying flames of light before the sun relinquished her throne to the lesser reign of the moon.

A commotion below me drew my attention back to the camp to see a familiar man striding toward Rafe. I squinted through the darkness, trying to figure out who he was. When he stopped in front of Rafe, the firelight danced across his face, and I realized it was Felton, Lady Vera’s “runner” — who had come ahead of her to announce her arrival to King Damian. What was he doing here?

He said something in Dansiian as well, but Rafe replied in Antionese. “Don’t speak our language. I don’t need these imbeciles listening to what you have to say.”

“What about the boy?” Felton switched languages, nodding at Jax.

“There’s no need to worry about him.” Rafe walked over to Jax, who scrambled back and tried to turn his head away again. But just as before, Rafe grabbed his face and forced him to turn toward him. “You won’t tell anyone what you hear tonight,” he said forcefully. “Right, you little half blood?”

“No, I won’t,” Jax repeated, his voice toneless and his shoulders sagging.

Rafe gripped his face for a moment longer and then pushed him away with a grunt of disgust, sending Jax sprawling on the ground. “See? No need for concern.”

Felton nodded, eyeing Jax warily as the boy struggled to right himself without the use of his hands. Outrage burned through my gut, but I forced myself to remain still, my fingers digging into the branch until I felt one of my fingernails tear on the bark.

Rafe gestured for Felton to follow him a little way out of the camp, closer to me. I stiffened, holding myself perfectly still on my branch, hoping they wouldn’t look up — praying my monkey friend stayed silent.

“What news from the palace?” Rafe asked, continuing to speak in Antionese.

“The deception went off without a hitch. The palace is completely out of sorts, trying to figure out who to blame for the poisoning, while still dealing with the attacks on the outer villages. Everyone believes our taster’s body has disappeared, just as you said they would.”

“Of course they did. I told you the potion would work. Someday you might learn to believe me.”

“Of course, my lord, of course,” Felton said quickly, bowing low, almost as if he was groveling before Vera’s brother. And it suddenly dawned on me: If he truly was her brother, this meant Rafe might be next in line to become the duke of Montklief, who apparently held a position of extreme power in the kingdom of Dansii. The thought sent a chill down my spine.

“You should have seen the look on the boy’s face when I opened my eyes and stood up.” Rafe laughed, a cruel sound, full of malice. “He’s obviously never seen someone come back from the dead before.”

Felton joined in with his laughter. Dismay spiraled into horror, turning my stomach sour as it all clicked into place. Rafe had been the taster. That’s why I recognized the name but couldn’t place it. He’d told me his name was Rafe, but since I’d thought him dead, I hadn’t bothered to remember it. I dredged up the memory of the cowering waif of a man in the kitchen, trying to reconcile it with the person standing below me. He’d had a beard and he’d slumped his shoulders. Even his voice had been soft, subservient. Rafe was apparently as good an actor as Damian. And he’d refused to look up at me — probably because he knew I’d recognize his eyes, even if he’d disguised his face with the beard.

How did he pull it off and why? Why fake his own death? I couldn’t imagine how terrified Jax must have been when Rafe had “woken up” and grabbed the boy, fleeing the palace amidst the chaos into the jungle under the cover of night. Had the kidnapping been part of the plan all along?

The memory of Damian kissing Vera made me even sicker now. Would he still hold her, gaze at her with such passion in his eyes, if he knew her brother was the one who had kidnapped Jax?

“And the king? What progress there?”

“Things started off a bit rocky, but with Alexa gone all day, Vera has been very successful in engaging the king’s affections.” Felton sounded pleased to report this, but it made my heart turn to lead.

“Gone?” Rafe repeated sharply. “What do you mean, gone? Where is she?”

Felton backed away hastily. “I d-don’t know. We assumed she was sent out on duty or searching for the boy.” His voice trembled, and he stumbled back again when Rafe advanced on him.

“You assumed? You never assume anything!” Rafe reached out and snatched Felton’s tunic, yanking him closer. “Our entire plan hinges on her.”

“Yes, milord, I know. I — I will find her as soon as I return. I p-promise. Please don’t punish me.” Felton’s begging was almost too pitiful to watch; he looked like he was at least twice Rafe’s age. “She won’t leave the king for long.”

“You’re certain of that?” Rafe still gripped Felton’s tunic, making the other man tremble with fear. Why was everyone so afraid of him? He wasn’t large, and he didn’t seem particularly frightening. But Felton was cowering before him and stuttering like he was completely terrified.

“Y-yes, milord. It’s common knowledge throughout the palace that she has feelings for the king. She rarely leaves his side.”

“Until today,” Rafe pointed out angrily. “And you didn’t think to find out why?”

“I — I was trying to —”

“That is enough,” Rafe said, his voice quiet all of a sudden, and Felton immediately fell silent. “I must know where Alexa is at all times — I can’t risk losing her. In penance for your mistake …” Rafe trailed off for a moment, as though considering. Then, with a cruel laugh, he continued, “Ah yes, I know.”

Felton shook his head violently, his eyes widening in terror, but he didn’t protest.

“You will go to the fire and put your left hand in it. Leave it there until the pain is unbearable. You may then pull it back out.”

Felton made a small sound of dismay, but I watched in horrified fascination as he nodded and turned toward the fire. He was actually going to do it? It had to be some sort of test. To see how obedient he really was.

Rafe trailed behind him, his arms crossed, watching the older man make his way to where the fire burned, red hot, the deadly flames a glowing beacon in the darkness. I bent forward on my branch, straining to see through the black night.

Felton stopped before the fire and knelt down. I watched his shoulders rise and fall once, as though he’d taken a deep breath. And then he shoved his left hand forward, straight into the flames.

I clapped my fingers over my mouth to keep from crying out in shock. Felton stiffened at first, and then his body began to shake, and still he kept his hand in the fire. After a few moments, his head flung back and he began to scream, howling in agony, and still he kept his hand shoved into the flames.

“Stop it!” Jax shrieked hoarsely. “Make him stop!”

But Rafe just laughed. He watched Felton’s suffering and he laughed.

Just when his screams of agony had grown so horrible that I was considering shooting him through the head to put him out of his misery, Felton yanked his hand out of the fire and collapsed on the ground, his body convulsing. Hot acid rose in my throat as the scent of burned flesh drifted to where I balanced, staring at the scene in shocked horror. In the darkness, and from my vantage point, it was hard to see the damage, but his hand appeared black and red, probably oozing blood.

Rafe continued to laugh and then shouted something in Dansiian. The other men, who had all watched the event with rounded eyes, stiffened to alertness. One of them came forward and bent to help Felton stand. Rafe continued to speak in Dansiian as the man helped Felton into a tent. The others stared at him with terror written on their faces and then jumped into activity when he finished speaking and sat down, completely at ease.

One of them brought Rafe a plate with some sort of meat and fruit on it, which he immediately began to eat, as though nothing had happened. Another man took a tiny portion of food to Jax.

Jax was huddled into himself, tears running down his face, his shoulders trembling. When the man put the plate down in front of him, Jax turned away, ignoring it. I didn’t blame him; I was so revolted after witnessing whatever it was that had just taken place, there was no way I would have been able to eat, either.

It was impossible for Felton to have done that out of blind obedience. His instinct for survival, for relief, would have overcome any desire to obey Rafe. He’d somehow been forced to do what Rafe told him to do.

My mind whirled, trying to piece together the puzzle. Was Rafe some sort of sorcerer? Was there a type of magic that made a person able to control others with just his words? But neither Damian nor Eljin had sensed a sorcerer in the convoy — and Rafe had been in the palace. At least in the beginning.

There had to be something else, something we were missing. He could control people somehow. That was the only answer — the only way I could explain what I’d just witnessed.

Then I remembered Jax refusing to look into his eyes, trying to turn his head away. Maybe it was a combination — his words and his eyes — that forced others to do whatever he wanted. Maybe that was why he was so sure Jax wouldn’t tell anyone what he heard, because he’d commanded him not to.

Then a new thought occurred to me, one that made my blood turn to ice in my veins and my heart drop as though it had turned to stone beneath the trappings of skin and bone.

If Rafe could control someone to the degree I had just witnessed by looking into his eyes and saying a few words — what could his sister do?

The scene from the garden this morning took on new meaning to me, and sudden panic nearly overwhelmed me.

Damian. That’s why he’d seemingly fallen for her so quickly.

Vera was controlling the king.