“I cannot use blood magic during the tournament,” Twenty-six said while they pretended to watch the match between Eighty-eight and Lathe.

  Izak nodded. “I was going to suggest the same thing.”

  The attention of the boys and men surrounding them was divided. The runt was in excellent form, outpacing the giant rustic despite the speed and skill he’d gained over the past year. The fight was proving as exciting as any Thornfield had seen, excluding the yearly showdown between the prince and the pirate.

  But there was also a beautiful young princess not fifty paces away, watching the fights alongside the king. Worshipful adoration drew most of the eyes in the bailey to Kelena.

  Izak shifted his weight, annoyance building like a storm cloud. Annoyed at the naked stares roving over his sister, annoyed at being unable to watch Lathe’s fight more closely because of the stupid pirate’s stupid death wish.

  Their bracket would end tonight. The fourth-year bracket would follow and likely consume the next two nights, then on midnight after its conclusion, the spring grafting.

  Four nights at the most, then his friend would kill himself trying to kill Hazerial.

  Izak raked a hand through his hair. “Is there some sort of paradise for good little pirates who kill enough dirters? Is that why you’re so desperate to die?”

  “I don’t deserve paradise,” Twenty-six said. “I will protect my people and redeem the blood debt. That is my reward.”

  Izak felt sick. He tried to ugh but could only manage a halfhearted grunt. “Not even a legion of beautiful seductresses waiting for you on the other side?”

  The pirate didn’t answer.

  In the center of the cheering, shouting crowd, Lathe pinned the hulking Eighty-eight to the thorn tree with a sword on either side of his thick neck.

  Izak cpped with hands that felt heavier than the grave. “Any unreasonable final wishes to saddle me and Lathe with?”

  “Don’t let them put me in the dirt,” Twenty-six said, finally taking his gray-green eyes off the match and meeting Izak’s stare. “Give me back to the ocean.”

  “Right. Send the pirate scum out with the tide. Got it.”

  A hand cmped down on Izak’s shoulder. “Izakiel—Izak.”

  Izak turned around to stare into the smoked lenses of his younger brother.

  “Etian!” Izak slung an arm around his brother’s neck, shaking him happily, then spped his scarred cheek. “Strong gods, look at that! Kelena got prettier, and you got uglier.”

  Etian adjusted the gsses Izak had knocked askew. “And you’re not as fat as you were.”

  “Still zy, though. They can’t take that from me.” Izak twisted to look for Twenty-six, but the pirate had moved off into the crowd, probably well aware that Izak wanted to introduce his friend to his brother. “I hear congratutions are in order. How is the future queen? Peonie, wasn’t it?”

  “Pasiona,” Etian said. “She’s staying with her parents at the House Skalia estate until I return. Kelena’s wedding is taking pce at Shamasa Redout—we’re riding out immediately after the grafting—and I didn’t want my wife at an active fortress in the middle of a war.”

  “So Hazerial is going to marry Kelena off after all?” Izak gnced through the crowd at the chairs that had been brought out for the king, princess, and Grandmaster Heartless. “I imagine the mad queen was furious.”

  “We’re at war, it doesn’t matter what she wants,” Etian growled.

  Izak blinked. There was a viciousness to his brother’s voice that he couldn’t remember ever hearing before.

  “I didn’t find you to talk about her or Kelena,” Etian said. “Is there somewhere private we can speak?”

  Izak smiled to diffuse the tension. “Everyone’s watching the tournament. No one will be in the barracks. Come on.”

  Removing themselves from the crowd seemed to soothe some of the crown prince’s agitation.

  “You heard I’m here to graft my first Thorns?” he asked as they walked.

  “News gets around. I heard one of those lucky graftees is your handsome elder brother.”

  “You’ll be my commander, of course.” Etian gnced over his shoulder. “The wedding is being held at Shamasa so I can take a small force into the Kingdom of Day right after.”

  “That’s idiocy,” Izak said. “The wedding could’ve been held in Siu Rial without putting Kelena in danger. It’s just as easy to ride north from there.”

  The spectators roared behind them. Someone had won.

  “You’ll be fully apprised of the situation ter. For now, you only need to know that this was the best positioning for all parties,” Etian said as the cheering tapered off. He lowered his voice. “The grafting wasn’t Hazerial’s idea. I requested the Thorns specifically for this attack.”

  “You can’t expect the old man to offer anyone power of his own free will.”

  “He agreed, Izak. That means he’s desperate for my assault on the Het to work. Whether it’s just his ego goading him or there’s a deeper motive we can’t see yet—”

  “Maybe Eketra promised to make him her consort.”

  “This isn’t a joking matter.” Etian scowled. “Hazerial was desperate enough to give me command of the army st spring. He spent all winter listening to lords praise me and bards sing songs about the second coming of Josean leading the Children of Night to victory, and he was still desperate enough to chance me gaining the support of the entire kingdom by sending me.”

  “Maybe he’s hoping you’ll be killed.”

  “He knows that’s not likely with my blessing. If we succeed with this assault on the Het, the Kingdom of Night will turn to me—to us, Izak. They’ll look to us and they won’t shed a tear for him.”

  Behind the lenses, Etian’s eyes burned with a chilling light.

  Goosebumps prickled across Izak’s skin. “Don’t say things like that unless you’re joking.”

  “It’s the only way.”

  “No, it isn’t! You can die a thousand different ways, all of them far more pleasant.”

  Etian grabbed Izak by the padded jacket and smmed him up against the stone wall.

  “I have a son,” he growled. The scar twisted one side of his grimace into an insane grin. “I have a son, and he’ll be just like I am if we don’t end this farce of a family before it can poison him too.”

  Izak pnted a muddy boot in Etian’s stomach and tried to kick him off, but Etian smmed him into the wall again. Lights flickered behind Izak’s eyes. His little brother was stronger than he remembered.

  Gradually, Etian’s grip loosened, and the snarl faded from his expression.

  Izak shoved him off and stepped free, straightening his disordered clothing.

  “For the strong gods’ sake, Etian.” He massaged his forehead. “Why can’t you just want a whore and a bottle of good wine like any other man?”

  Etian stared across the bailey toward the tournament he would have been participating in if things had gone different three years before.

  “Are you going to tell me that you wouldn’t be asking for the same thing in my pce? That you would wait and hope he grew old and died—assuming he can die of old age—no matter who or what he destroys before then?” He turned back to Izak. “He and Ahixandro managed it against Ikario. They found a way to kill their father and take the Blood of the Strong Gods.”

  “And you don’t think that’s constantly at the front of the old man’s mind?” Izak hissed. “That he’s not always watching for it? Have you considered that I won’t even be able to fight him? Once I’m your Thorn, I can’t harm anyone in your direct bloodline, descendant or predecessor.”

  “Unless he’s trying to kill me,” Etian said.

  “If he’s trying to kill you, you’re already dead.”

  Etian’s lenses caught the gre of the ghost city. “I know you’re not afraid of him. He knows you’re not afraid of him. Why are you so against this?”

  “Of course I’m afraid of him!” Izak snapped. “He’s got you and Kelena trapped in his fist and all he has to do is squeeze. I’m scared to death, and I’m right to be!”

  “Izak.” The scar stretched the hint of a smile on Etian’s face into a leer. “He’s only got Kelena and me until Shamasa.”