“I’m not exactly sure,” I reply, looking from him to Maven. My betrothed only smirks, raising an eyebrow a little.

“For being the good son, my brother has his own discretions,” he says, and his air is surprisingly playful. Even Cal grins a little, rolling his eyes. “You wanted to go home, Mare, and I’ve found you someone who’s been there before.”

After a second of confusion, I realize what Maven is saying and how stupid I am for not realizing it before. Cal can get me out of the palace. Cal was at the tavern. . . . He got himself out of here, so he can do the same for me.

“Maven,” Cal says through gritted teeth, his grin gone. “You know she can’t. It’s not a good idea—”

It’s my turn to speak up, to take what I want. “Liar.”

He looks at me with his burning eyes, his stare going right through me. I hope he can see my determination, my desperation, my need.

“We’ve taken everything from her, brother,” Maven murmurs, drawing close. “Surely we can give her this?”

And then slowly, reluctantly, Cal nods and waves me into his room. Dizzy with excitement, I hurry inside, almost hopping from foot to foot.

I’m going home.

Maven lingers at the door, his smile fading a little when I leave his side. “You’re not coming.” It isn’t a question.

He shakes his head. “You’ll have enough to worry about without me tagging along.”

I don’t have to be a genius to see the truth in his words. But just because he isn’t coming doesn’t mean I will forget what he’s done for me already. Without thinking, I throw my arms around Maven. He doesn’t respond for a second, but slowly lets an arm drop around my shoulders. When I pull back, a silver blush paints his cheeks. I can feel my own blood run hot beneath my skin, pounding in my ears.

“Don’t be too long,” he says, tearing his eyes away from me to look at Cal.

Cal barely smirks. “You act like I’ve never done this before.”

The brothers share a chuckle, laughing just for each other like I’ve seen my brothers do a thousand times before. When the door shuts behind Maven, leaving me with Cal, I can’t help but feel a little less animosity toward the princes.

Cal’s room is twice the size of mine, but so cluttered it seems smaller. Armor and uniforms and combat suits fill the alcoves along the walls, all hanging from what I assume are models of Cal’s body. They tower over me like faceless ghosts, staring with invisible eyes. Most of the armor is light, steel plate and thick fabric, but a few are heavy-duty, meant for battle, not training. One even has a helmet of shining metal, with a tinted glass faceplate. An insignia glitters on the sleeve, sewn into the dark gray material. The flaming black crown and silver wings. What it means, what the uniforms are for, what Cal has done in them, I don’t want to think about.

Like Julian, Cal has stacks of books piled all over, spilling out in little rivers of ink and paper. They aren’t as old as Julian’s though—most look newly bound, typed out and reprinted on plastic-lined sheets to preserve the words. And all are written in Common, the language of Norta, the Lakelands, and Piedmont. While Cal disappears into his closet, stripping off the rest of his armor as he goes, I sneak a glance at his books. These are strange, full of maps, diagrams, and charts—guides to the terrible art of warfare. Each one is more violent than the last, detailing military movements from recent years and even before. Great victories, bloody defeats, weapons, and maneuvers, it’s enough to make my head spin. Cal’s notes inside them are worse, outlining the tactics he favors, which ones are worth the cost of life. In the pictures, tiny squares to represent soldiers, but I see my brothers and Kilorn and everyone like them.

Beyond the books, by the window, there’s a little table and two chairs. On the tabletop, a game board lies ready, pieces already in place. I don’t recognize it, but I know it was meant for Maven. They must meet nightly, to play and laugh as brothers do.

“We won’t have very long to visit,” Cal calls out, making me jump. I glance at the closet, catching sight of his tall, muscled back as he pulls a shirt on. There are more bruises, and scars as well, even though I’m sure he has access to an army of healers if he wants them. For some reason, he’s chosen to keep the scars.

“As long as I get to see my family,” I answer back, maneuvering myself away so I don’t keep staring at him.

Cal emerges, this time fully dressed in plain clothes. After a moment, I realize it’s the same thing he wore the night I met him. I can’t believe I didn’t see him for what he was from the beginning: a wolf in sheep’s clothing. And now I’m the sheep pretending to be a wolf.