I recalled the first time I’d met Elena, as Queen Neva’s guest at the summit in Vannova. I remembered how lovely she had been with her shiny bronze hair and her matching gown, and how I’d considered her an ally then. How, even though I’d balked at the idea of one queen invading the lands of another—something she’d done in her efforts to support Xander during his revolution against Sabara—I’d been willing to put the past behind us, to chalk it up to old rivalries that had nothing at all to do with me. I’d extended an olive branch to her. Called a truce for the good of our neighboring nations.

And she’d been so gracious about it.

I hadn’t realized that the entire time she’d been smiling to my face, and kissing my cheek at parties and gatherings, she’d been planning my assassination behind my back.

Standing before her now, and seeing that same inscrutable expression on her beautiful face, I felt as if I were balancing on the tenuous threads of her spider’s web, her greedy eyes inspecting my every move. She was waiting for me to make one misstep, so she could snare me in her sticky trap. “How could you think things would be simple?” I retorted. “You’ve declared war on Ludania.” Just saying the words aloud made my skin blaze.

“Oh, that.” Her dismissive tone was infuriating, fanning the flames of my disgust for her even more. “I tried to warn you, Your Majesty. I tried to send you a message so we could settle this without bloodshed.”

My teeth clenched as I recalled the package I’d received, as if Xander’s bloodshed hadn’t counted. “And I came!” I shrieked, unable to remain calm in the face of her callousness. “I did what you wanted, and you still attacked my country.” “Yes, well, that was an unfortunate turn of events. I’d hoped to wait, so you and Xander might be . . . reunited. But plans changed.”

I wasn’t sure what that meant, but hearing Xander’s name, and hearing the indifference in her voice, made me weak. I tried not to choke when I asked, “So, he’s no longer . . . He’s not . . . here?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“All he wanted,” I started, “was accord, and you . . . you . . .” I couldn’t finish, and I had to turn my cheek to keep from falling apart completely.

Niko swam into my line of sight then, where he stood off to my side. He watched me as eagerly as Elena had, and suddenly I felt like I was caught between two equally deadly predators.

Elena sighed. It was exaggerated, and less than sincere. “The incident with Xander was unfortunate, I admit as much. We tried to reason with him, but he was obstinate. He refused to play nice.”

Play nice. I tried to imagine how they’d presented the situation to him. Surely they hadn’t told him everything. Not about what they’d planned to do once they’d lured me to Astonia.

Or maybe they had. Xander would never have allowed Sabara to sit on another throne. She was the reason he’d turned his back on his family in the first place. Why he’d started a rebellion that had divided his country in two.

She was the reason Max hadn’t grown up with his older brother to depend on.

Xander would never forgive Sabara for any of those things, let alone put her back in power.

“What about you, Charlaina?” she asked, using my given name now, as if we were old friends. “Will you play nice?”

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to still my trembling hands. Beneath my skin I could feel the electric pulse of a thousand flares erupting as I tried to quell my rage.

From deeper within I heard the throaty laughter of Sabara ringing up through my ears.

We’re not so different, you and I , she urged, and as much as I hated her for saying it, I wasn’t sure she was entirely wrong. You’re exactly like me. I think that’s what frightens you most, doesn’t it, Charlaina? That you’ll become me. I know what you’re thinking even before you do. Go ahead and try, she offered. It’ll only make you weaker.

I knew she was right, but Elena was dangerous. She had to be stopped. I might not be willing to give Sabara to Elena, but I could certainly use Sabara against her.

It was worth the risk. I reached down—deep, deep down—digging for that power that I’d employed before.

I felt the surge first in my fingertips—the tingling. That was how I knew it was working. I was drawing Sabara’s own ability from her and would use it for myself. Her energy coursed through me, electrifying my entire body. Making me feel strong. Complete.

Exhilarated.

Lifting my hand until it was raised in front of me, I glanced sideways and caught a glimpse of Niko. He recognized the gesture. He knew exactly what I was about to do.

“Sabara,” he wailed in that archaic language the two of them shared. “Layla, don’t do it. Don’t let her do this!”

I felt a thrill of satisfaction course through me when I saw that it was working. When I saw Elena, the cords of her neck straining as her airway narrowed. Her eyes flew wide and her hands shot up to her collarbone.

I’d seen this before. I’d watched people suffer and claw at their own throats, trying to find a way to breathe. Trying to save themselves.

It was no use.

But Sabara wasn’t to be counted out. She’d heard Niko’s pleas, and she reacted to them. I felt her responding to the need she heard in his voice, but I was ready for her this time.

You can’t stop us, she jeered.

Sabara came at me then, with everything she had. White-hot rage erupted within me, scorching everything in its path. She was stronger than I’d ever felt her before, more determined to win this battle. To take me down. I could sense her resolve, and her deepest desire. She intended to regain her power.