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And I couldn’t tell her.

Prisca didn’t choose to be born the hybrid heir. She didn’t choose to go to war. She’d had so few choices in her life so far, I refused to take any further choices from her.

Oh, she knew mates didn’thaveto stay together. But I wouldn’t place the weight of more expectation on her shoulders.

And…some part of me, a part I’d never acknowledged before…it needed her tochooseme. Of her own free will. Not because the fates had decided we would be best for each other, or because we’d been thrown together by those same fates. But because she looked at me and saw me as a man who was more than just the Bloodthirsty Prince. Because she saw a man who was worth tying herself to for the rest of her life.

I wasn’t blind to my people’s flaws. We were a capricious race, obsessive and prone to violence. But our mating—rare as it was—was a gift. The other half of our soul waiting for us to love. To cherish.

I wanted that. With her. And if there was one thing I had, it was patience. I could wait.

At least, for a little while.

CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR

Sabium’s rage was evident in the twitching of his fingers as he pressed them to his thigh over and over again.

“The Gromalians attacked? You’re sure?”

Patriarch Grieve nodded. He had been given Farrow’s lands, and in return, Sabium had insisted he take a greater role in the rebellion.

“One survivor,” he said. “Just like last time.” He jerked his head, and one of the iron guards was brought forward, shoved on his knees before Sabium’s throne. The guard had been beaten, both of his eyes black, several of his teeth missing. He favored one arm, cradling it with the other. Clearly, he’d been denied a healer.

“Speak,” Sabium said.

The guard’s lip trembled. “They were wearing Gromalian colors, Your Majesty. They told our men they would no longer be allowed to waltz into their kingdom as we pleased. And then they killed everyone but me.”

Sabium narrowed his eyes. And I saw the moment he realized his tactics had failed. He’d assumed the hybrid heir was nothing but a nuisance. One who would go away—at least for the short term. One who might rally her people, but those numbers were so low, they wouldn’t stand a chance against him. And so she’d bleed out on a muddy battlefield somewhere, forgotten to history.

Instead, Nelayra had made the first move. I had no doubt she was behind this “attack.” Finally, she was acting as I’d hoped.

Sabium drummed his fingers with increasing vigor.

“You said the ambassador saw her with the Gromalian prince.” He addressed Grieve, who took out a handkerchief and patted at his sweaty forehead, clearly wary of the king’s current mood.

“Yes, Your Majesty. They were…clearly close. Speculation was rife that the two will be married. Speculation the ambassador said he would have ignored had he not seen just how close they were with his own eyes.”

Sabium stared at Grieve as if he was considering havinghiseyes plucked from his head.

Grieve went very still.

“And Eryndan?”

“He sent this message, Your Majesty.”

Sabium took it, swept his gaze over it, and sneered. “He wants me to accept platitudes and promises of loyalty? No. Send a message back. Instruct him that I know of a corrupt stronghold within his city walls. If he truly wants to remain allies, he will take the appropriate steps.”

My mind raced. If I were Eryndan, I would be attempting to play both sides for the time being. With this coercion, Sabium was forcing him to take a stand. And if the hybrid heir learned of Eryndan’s attack on her people, any alliance they might have had would be dead.

The inkling of an idea came to me. If I was caught, I was dead. But it might just buy me some time.

Thanks to Pelysian, I knew where Madinia was now. And the flame-spitting viper wouldn’t trust me without a show of faith.

This would be the perfect opportunity.

* * *

I woke to find Asinia’s gaze on me. I rolled onto my back. “Were you watching me sleep?”