THE FIGHTThe air in the hallway was cold, but it was nothing compared to the ice settling in my chest.

I hadn't even reached the end of the corridor before I stopped. My breath was coming in short, jagged gasps. I looked down at my hands. They were still stained with the faint gold of the healing light I had used on him—the light he had just called a "trick."

"He didn't mean it," I whispered, leaning my head against the stone wall. "He’s just scared. He’s a King. Kings get scared."

But ...