Mara’s steps were unsteady, even with Eira’s hand firm around her arm. Her chest still throbbed with the memory of the King’s lips, the taste of food that hadn’t settled, the weight of his eyes on her.

“Keep your chin up,” Eira said under her breath. “You look ready to collapse.”

Mara nodded faintly, though she didn’t lift her head. She didn’t know how Lyra carried herself, how her spine held straight like a blade. Mara only knew how to shrink.

Their footsteps echoed ...