I woke up stiff and sore and still tired, with a pair of long arms wrapped around my waist. Keith breathed deeply into my hair, and when I pulled away to look at him, he mumbled a rough, “Good morning.”

This . . . wasn’t what I had expected to wake up to, but I wouldn’t complain. We were both fully clothed, and cuddling him in bed beat cuddling him on a horse.

“Good morning.” I ran my fingers through his messy morning hair. Black locks had bunched around his horn, as they were wont to do, and I carefully detangled them.

His eyes were closed against the soft light that seeped into my room through the curtains. It made him look like some kind of black-horned seraph. I smiled as I leaned forward and kissed him on the nose.

That got his attention; blue eyes opened and stared at me fondly. “None of that, or I’ll—Well, whatever we do, it’ll have to be after a bath.”

I dragged my eyes down his body and gasped. “Oh no! The sheets!”

Fighting a bunch of slave traders, blasting through a dungeon wall, breaking a magical dimension, and riding cross-country for hours on end was not the way to stay pristine or clean.

My stunning blue-purple dress was torn, muddy, burned in places, and caked with so much dust and grime that I had no doubt that the servants were going to need magic or a burn pit for the bedding. Someone had taken off my boots at least.

“I’m sorry, I was so tired, I just barely got us to bed.” Keith said, sheepish. “[Cleanse].”

That helped… but I was still a mess.

“I’m surprised my dress held up so well.” I admired the silky, beautiful fabric. Then I glared at Keith’s clothes. He’d taken off everything but his pants and tunic. His buttons glared back at perfect eye level, mocking me with their there-ness.

Keith chuckled. “Arachne silk. Stronger than any ordinary thread, and more durable.”

“Hmph.” I sat up quickly, throwing off our blankets and hopping out of bed. “I’m going to clean up!”

Keith rolled onto his back and threw his arm over his eyes. “I’ll be up in a bit.”

In the common area, Lilith was pacing nervously; not her usual professional maid demeanor. She stopped when she saw me and hurried over, tears in her eyes. “Mistresss! I’m so glad you’re alright!”

“I’ll be better after a bath.” I plucked at my dress. “And fresh clothes.”

The lizardkin gave me an intense stare, taking in my disheveled, rough appearance. “Leave it to me, Princesss.”

A few minutes later, I was lounging in an enormous porcelain tub with rose petals adorning the crystal waters. It smelled of lavender and bliss.

It was a lovely half-hour soak, with foot rubs. Not long enough to feel fully rejuvenated, but enough time to feel alive again. I donned a respectable day gown, soft and clingy and pale pink.

Keith met me in a new set of dark robes over a fresh linen shirt with three buttons at the neck. He must have have found his own bath, or used more magic to get clean.

He was carrying a plate of breakfast, and I fell in love with him all over again.

“I love you,” I told him, grabbing an onion-and-cheese scone slice lathered in melted butter off the plate. It was warm and buttery and rich. I almost cried, it tasted so good.

“And I you.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Now, let’s go tell everybody else. Sithli let me know the council is in session as we speak. Shall we?”

“With pleasure.” I finished off the scone.

He set aside his platter and picked up two large mugs of fresh hot tea, handing one to me. “Here, we can drink these on the way. Screw propriety: I need portable tea.”

I laughed; after last night, I was desperately in need of caffeine myself. They’d prepared my favorite elderberry and nettle tea, and the scent of it was almost as relaxing as the tub. I took a sip and felt my entire body infused with the warmth of the hot beverage.

Arm in arm, teas in hand, we made our way downstairs. Daj, the polite attendant who’d shown us our rooms, was waiting to lead us to a large, round atrium near the middle of the palace grounds. The ceiling was domed glass, and there was foliage decorating the walls, along with beautiful hothouse flowers.

A half-moon table had been set up in the middle, and many of the most powerful and influential people in Valaria sat around it. I recognized Their Royal Highness of Peldeep, Grand Duchess Calisto, Necromancer Chloe, Duke Wyldon of Servalt, the Grand Pontiff of Sumbria, Wizard Lothar from Hemlock Hill, and Agatha, the Witch of Winter’s End. There were a few others, I had not met yet.

To join, one needed to be over level sixty and have influence over the continent—orrepresent a country, as Chloe and Wyldon were doing.

Knight Commander Havork had not taken his place at Drendil’s

seat. He stood uncomfortably off to the side, arms crossed and somber. No one had bothered to restrain him, though he was obviously being brought forward with charges.

“Welcome.” Grand Duchess Calisto motioned me and Keith to stand before the council. “We have been waiting.”

Keith and I shared a look, and he stepped forward first.

“Grand Council, I have come before you today to issue a formal complaint against Servalt, and request sanctions against Drendil for their part in kidnapping and trafficking.”

There was a quiet mumble and a few shared looks among the council. Keith watched Duke Wyldon of Servalt, but the man did not refute. He even nodded for Keith to continue.

“Marquess Dorset of Servalt, a known offender, kidnapped and enslaved at least four people last evening,” Keith began.

“We have dealt with Marquess Dorset already,” Duchess Calisto informed us. “So you may speak your piece, but know that a [Truth] spell has verified his side of the story.”

Keith acknowledged her grace and continued. “I was portaled to a trap pocket dimension, and only freed by Princess Henrietta hours later.”

“Is this when Simon and Thalia fell?” Witch Agatha demanded. “Do you claim that you had nothing to do with it when you were found in the cell next to their bodies? Chadwick may have been tried with trafficking, but you stand accused of the murder of Drendil’s king and queen.”

“That”—Keith pushed up his glasses with a practiced move—“is because Marquess Dorset set up to frame me for their deaths. He was the one responsible, however. You may use [Truth] magic on me if you do not believe me.”

All turned to Wizard Lothar, who sighed and lifted a finger to cast a spell. “[Detect Lie].”

Gray magic swirled into a ball in his hand.

“Repeat that last part,” the wizard ordered, and Keith obliged, explaining the shroomdoom, and the royals untimely demise. The gray orb remained unchanged. Lothar faced the council. “He speaks the truth.”

Witch Agatha harrumphed. “You returned them too late to be revived, you know. How do you explain that?”

Keith spread his hands, innocently. “We had a trying evening, Witch Agatha. It was not our responsibility to repair the damage down by Servalt. I am not the ruler of North Sumbria, nor the victims liege lord.”

Witch Agatha turned piercing eyes on me. “What of you? Are you not responsible for this either?”

I stepped forward to stand beside Keith. “It is true that I did nothing to aid the king and queen of Drendil. But I am no longer a citizen of Drendil. Too, even if the Council does not recognize my immigration to Nilheim, I would still be found not guilty of treason.”

“What why is that, princess?” Lothar cut in, intrigued, he still held the true telling grey orb, confirming everything said. Witch Agatha short the wizard a glare, but turned back to hear my answer.

“In Drendil, they do not legally recognize revival outside of the dungeons. And for all intents and purposes, legally, Simon and Thalia were no longer the king and queen when I arrived.” Speaking my parents’ names, without title even, was a strange feeling. I ignored my discomfort as I continued.

“I would also like to make an official statement on what happened last night. As my parents were the ones who sold me to Marquess Dorset, they too were tricked by him. When I found Keith, slave traders working for the marquess were in the process of trying to pour molten ash vane on my mother and father.”

The Council all reacted to the mention of the poison. Grand Duchess Calisto turned to her neighbor in concern and whispered, “That is five times this year I’ve heard about molton ash vane popping up.”

“I would also point out”—Keith waved at Chloe—“that just because the time for resurrection has passed, it does not mean they are gone forever. If the council agrees to my demands for justice, I would offer to [Raise] King Simon and Queen Thalia. They could live on, though stripped of their Royal title. We could also use this time to have them officially abdicate the throne.”

“To whom?” Witch Agatha frowned. “The princess? She’s not without a hand in this. How do we know it wasn’t her idea all along? Working with Nilheim to overthrow Drendil, as King Simon and Queen Thalia always feared?”

I resisted the urge to violently reject the proposal, simply saying, “Please no. I gave up my right to inherit ages ago. I have a cousin; he can have it!”

Witch Agatha scoffed. “We all know that your cousin Francis is an incompetent louse.”

“Agatha!” the Grand Pontiff spoke for the first time, his giant, bushy eyebrows raising. Not enough to see his eyes, though, so he wasn’t truly scandalized. “We do not insult the misfortunate . . . Grand Duke Francis may have chosen Intelligence as a dump stat, but he is still a person whom we as the council represent.”

“Fine, yes, that wasn’t kind of me. You know, the Witch of Winter’s End, ‘Oh, she of the Frozen Heart,’ and ‘The Cruel Sorceress of Ice,’” she mocked with a note of scorn. “Regardless of what you all think of me, what I said still stands. The boy is not fit to rule, and his son is too young.”

Keith held up his hand and spoke, “What about a regent?”