that they’re likely to notice the absence of the orchid ring.”
Con shrugged that off. “We take some fresh orchids and tie one on right before we get there. It doesn’t need to survive close examination—just get us in the door. Claim the hand that wears the Abiding Ring, And the empire falls,” he quoted. “The prophecy foretold that this would be our key to winning.”
Nobody said anything for a moment, the silence stretching with tension.
“I am right,” Con bit out. Then he looked to Ambrose. “Aren’t I?”
The wizard shrugged cheerfully. “It’s a prophecy. Like poetry, it’s subject to interpretation.”
“I never did like poetry,” Con muttered. “I take the hand that wore the Abiding Ring to Yekpehr and use it to lure Anure out of his hole. He won’t be able to resist.”
“And why won’t Anure simply slaughter you where you stand and take the hand and ring anyway?” I asked in a coolly polite tone that should’ve alerted Con to my grave doubts about this plan. Of course he didn’t take warning, because he was galloping heedlessly down his path of vengeance, too wrapped up in his hatred and thirst to fight to think clearly. Fear for him sucked at me, pulling me relentlessly toward the maw of devastating grief. He’d get himself killed for this vengeance. The wolf, biting at my hands as I tried to free him of his chains. I’d been warned.
“Because I’ll imply that I have knowledge about you,” Con returned. “Sondra told me how you led Anure to believe you hated me and that I’d run off with your wealth. I’ll turn it around and offer intelligence on you, confirm the rumors that you’re not really dead. Maybe offer a deal to collude to capture you again, string him along that way.”
Terror struck my heart. Con had told me repeatedly that Anure’s gift was seeing what someone cared about. He would see Con’s love for me—everyone could see it—along with Con’s reckless thirst for vengeance. He would use both to destroy Con. “This is too risky,” I said. “It’s not well thought out.”
“I have thought it out,” he insisted. “Besides, that’s not the whole plan. We won’t all knock on the front door. I’ll go alone, and the rest of the team will infiltrate the township and be ready for me to admit them to the citadel. While I have the emperor and his wizards distracted, you all can rescue the captives.”
Everyone exchanged glances for a moment, then several people spoke at once, Agatha overriding them. “I have to agree with Her Highness, Conrí. This plan is full of holes.”
“It’s a good plan,” he snapped back. “It gets us inside, then we improvise. That’s where I rely on your knowledge. You were indispensable last time, Lady Agatha.” He produced a semi-charming grin, but the look she flashed him was decidedly uncharmed.
“Uh-huh, I see what you’re up to, Conrí.” Brenda pointed a stubby finger at him. “You plan to take that vurgsten bomb into the throne room, hoping to kill Anure and his wizards in one blast, then rely on the confusion to allow us to spirit the royal captives out of the citadel. And you figure if you get yourself killed, well, that’s the price you’ll pay.”
Con looked a little surprised—and more than a little sheepish—then shook his head. “No. Not … exactly.”
Yes, exactly. I would not stand by and watch Con self-destruct. I stood, drawing everyone’s attention, letting the silence settle into unease. Fixing the coldest glare imaginable on Con, I said, “You lied to Me.”
He actually sputtered, everyone turning their heads to look at him. “What? No. What are—”
“You said,” I interrupted, the group looking back to me, “that we’d plan this mission together, that you would take My cooler-headed approach into account this time.”
“I am!” he snapped back, gesturing at the table, the sands hissing as they reacted to the movement, which he quickly snatched back. “Obviously, I have been. What do you think all of this is?”
“This,” I said, stabbing a finger at the model, but restraining my intention so the sands didn’t move, “was an elaborate charade, largely for My benefit.”
Con set his jaw. “You’re wrong, Lia.”
“I don’t think so. Tell Me, what did you learn from us re-creating the citadel—besides the dimensions of the throne room?”
Everyone looked at him expectantly. “There’s the tower rooms,” he said, the answer tentative.
“Why do you need to know the layout of those rooms?” I shot back.
He floundered, groping for an answer I knew