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And complete horseshit.

One of the nearby nobles came alive to chirp, “Don’t suppose it’s necessary to hang the sheets from the ramparts as proof of consummation. We can all see the evidence for ourselves.”

Titters met the snide remark, and I swung a murderous glare around the chamber. The laughter ceased, and gazes steered away from me uneasily.

Shaking my head, I advanced onmy wifewith hard steps. Everyone else faded away. I would have the truth fromher.

She shivered, and I wondered if it was from the chill of the chamber or the threat of me. The fog may have abated, but the frigid air clung. Still, she held her ground. Her scent filled my nose as I closed the distance between us, and fuck if the blood didn’t rush to my traitorous cock in primal recognition. It wasn’t just her scent that hit me. It was the scent ofmeall overher. That satisfied me in a way it shouldn’t. Only minutes ago, I had been buried inside her. Clearly I had yet to shake off the effects. I was ready for another go even now. Even though that was the last thing I should want.

“Who are you?” I growled. Her gaze flicked uncertainly to the lord regent. “Look at me.” My voice cracked like thunder on the air. “Answer my question.”

“I’m... Tamsyn.”

“A daughter of the crown?” I pressed, even though I knew.

She started to look away again, doubtlessly seeking direction on how to answer me. I held up one finger, catching her attention and holding it. “I’ll not ask again. Speak the truth.”

“I am Tamsyn,” she repeated, her throat working as she swallowed. “The royal whipping girl.”

Arkin swore.

I did not look to my vassal; all my searing focus was fixed upon the woman I had just bound myself to for life.

The royal whipping girl?

I glanced at the faces of the Penterran court around me. The king and queen stared back in a way that said everything. All I needed to know. It was true, then. She was a whipping girl, which I understood to be someone who...

“You take beatings for the princesses?” I demanded.

Her chin lifted. “Yes.” As though it was a point of pride for her. Her amber eyes glinted fire, daring me to demean the practice.

Spittle flew from Arkin’s lips as he ground out, “She is but their dog, and they think it fitting to give her to you for a wife.”

The queen spoke up in stout denial: “The royal whipping girl is an esteemed position in the palace. The tradition predates written record. Tamsyn is a daughter to us and given all the courtesy and regard due a royal princess.”

“Except you whip her,” I replied, feeling my lip curl in distaste. “Esteemed, indeed.”

The room fell silent. It was a truth no one could deny. The truth, at last, finally, from these people.

I recalled my father’s voice then. He’d always said King Hamlin could not be trusted—that the Penterran court was a nest of vipers.

They’re different from us. They expect safety and nice things, but they won’t bleed for it. They expect us to bleed for them.

King Hamlin spoke at last, his gaze fastened on me. “Do you intend to refuse her?”

“He cannot,” the lord regent blustered, affronted at the question,hot color splashing his face. “The ceremony is done. The girl is bedded. They are wed!”

Do you intend to refuse her?It was a weighty question. Loaded with implications. What he meant was:Do you renounce this sovereignty?

I held the king’s gaze and saw that he did not believe I had a choice. He and the lord regent were in accord on that.

I considered them all, my gaze in turn sliding to her—Tamsyn—and stopping there. Her white-knuckled hands gripped the front of her nightgown, precariously holding the fabric together over her breasts. I had ripped the material from her in a fit of unexpected desire. I grimaced. Nothing about any of this had been expected.

I had expected the bedding to be perfunctory. Purely transactional. I would get it done while hopefully bringing as little pain and embarrassment to her as possible. I wasn’t a sadist, after all. That had been the plan. I liked fucking as well as anyone, but this night’s bedding had not been about what Iliked. It was not meant to be about pleasure, and yet pleasure was what I had found. With my wife.The wrong wife.This woman before me whom I hadnotagreed to marry, but whom they had tricked me into claiming.

Fury seethed through my veins.

I looked her over with a leer. Had they chosen her simply because of her position as a whipping girl?