THE KING’S JEALOUSY Demetrius lay still, his breath shallow. Every time he moved, the stitches in his side pulled, reminding him that he was no longer the untouchable lion of the capital. He was just an old man in a drafty room.

But the physical pain was nothing compared to the weight in his chest as he watched her.

Esmeralda was kneeling by Finn’s cot again. She was leaning close, her hair falling over her shoulder in a dark tangle. She was whispering something to him—something low and ...