Taran grinned. “Twin brother, actually.”

“Identical twin.”

“That’s right. Theon was always the good one, the perfect son, following in our father’s footsteps. I’m the . . . well, whatever I am. The troublemaker, I guess. When things quiet down here, I need to get back to Auranos for a visit. It’s been so long since I’ve been in touch with my family. I take it you know Theon?”

Nic stared at Taran as if stunned, as if somehow frightened by the mention of Theon’s name.

“Nic?” Jonas prompted when Nic continued to remain silent.

“I . . . I’m so sorry to be the one to deliver this news,” Nic began. “But your father, your brother . . . they’re both dead.”

“What?” Taran stared at Nic in shock. “How?”

“You father, it was an accident. Terrible but unavoidable, and no one was at fault. But your brother . . .” Nic’s eyes shifted back and forth with uncertainty before they narrowed in a solemn gaze. “He was murdered. By Prince Magnus Damora.”

Taran took a step back, doubled over slightly at the waist. All was silent for several long, uncomfortable moments, save for the squawking of seabirds and the crashing of waves against the shore.

“Mikah . . .” Taran said, his face a shroud of stunned grief. “I have to go with them now. Today. I have to go to Mytica and avenge my brother’s death. But I promise I’m not done with the revolution. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Mikah nodded. “Do what you have to do.”

“So you’re coming with us, are you?” Jonas asked. “Just like that?”

The friendly glint in Taran’s eyes had transformed to a flash of fury. “Is that a problem for you?”

“Not if you don’t make it one.”

“I have no conflict with you, but I will find Prince Magnus. And when I do, he will pay for what he’s done to my family. I know he sent you here. So does that mean you’ll try to stop me?”

Jonas considered him for a long moment. He was currently allied with the prince, but that had nothing to do with this personal grievance. And as far as he could tell, Magnus deserved whatever Taran had in store for him. “No, I won’t stop you.”

“Good.”

Taran left to fetch some belongings for the journey, and Jonas turned to Nic.

“I have a feeling that Taran’s not the only troublemaker in our midst. You didn’t have to tell him the truth about his brother. Trying to stir up old conflicts for the prince, are we?”

Nic shrugged lightly, but there was a hard edge to his expression now as he met Jonas’s curious gaze. “All I did was tell the truth. Taran deserves to know what happened to Theon. And, what, you think Magnus shouldn’t pay for his crimes?”

“That’s not what I said, not at all. I just wonder about your motive.”

“Pure, unadulterated hatred for Prince Magnus and his evil family. That’s my motive. Cleo’s gone completely blind when it comes to him. Whatever I have to do to protect her, I’ll do it.”

“Wonderful. We have a ship full of vengeance-seekers headed back with us.”

“The more the merrier, I say.”

Nic’s gaze slid beyond Jonas and toward the docks behind him. In an instant, all the blood appeared to drain from his face, leaving him as white as snow.

“What’s wrong now?” Jonas glanced over his shoulder to see someone—a stranger—approaching their ship. “Let me guess. Another ghost from your past?”

Nic stayed silent, his jaw gone slack.

Jonas turned and looked again at the man, still twenty paces away from them and drawing closer, a tall Kraeshian with shoulder-length black hair tied at the nape of his neck. “Who is it, then?” he asked.

“That,” Nic said, his voice raw and barely audible, “is Prince Ashur Cortas.”