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“I don’t want that. Never have. The war waged by my father was nothing more than revenge for his ineptitude when it came to my sister.”

Keyanna stared at Lachlan’s father without flinching. She tilted her head and said, “We have settled on a treaty.”

“Who?”

“The Crown-Prince and I.” She stood and walked to the window; her hands clasped behind her back. When she turned, she said, “I expect you to honor it.”

“And what is it I have agreed to?” Mallor’s eyes hit Lachlan with accusation.

“This is what you asked of me–”

“With Ollie’s guidance.”

Lachlan narrowed his eyes. “The queen and I worked with what we had given the conditions. She trusts my word,” he said. He could see when the added meaning struck his father.

“The conditions?” Mallor asked.

“Open trade to the Dauntiss. No tariffs, provided Jast gives military support to back my position as the leader of my kingdom.”

Mallor turned his head to study Keyanna. “That is all? Did we need the meeting for such a simple agreement? I was prepared to offer reparations for what befell your mother.”

“That, and the betrothal of your son to a bride from Kaloma.”

His father’s eyes snapped to Lachlan’s.

Lachlan dipped his head in acceptance of the condition. “The treaty is in the best interest of both our kingdoms.”

“Who are you betrothed to?”

Lachlan met his father’s gaze with a steely one of his own. “The woman who saved my life.”

Mallor sat back in his chair, in which Lachlan could only describe as unsteady. He swallowed and said, “It would seem there isn’t much to be done then–”

“On the contrary, Uncle Mallor,” Keyanna said. She walked toward the door. “It’s time to bring me back to life with Jast by my side. Now the hard work begins.”

32

With tears blinding her retreat, Tarley hurried up the stairs to her room, chastising herself the entire way. Why had she let her guard down? She burst through the door and shut it behind her, leaning against it as the tears fell, angry there were any tears at all. Swiping at the drops on her cheeks with stiff movements, Tarley knew she was angry, but more than anything, she was hurt. She’d opened herself completely to Lachlan, only to be crushed.

His father had called her a whore.

Like any Kaloma man.

Had she thought because Lachlan had been different—until he hadn’t been—that Jast would somehow be better?

Lachlan hadn’t defended her to his father. They’d exchangedI love yousin the shadow of a hedge, but when he’d had to admit their arrangement to his father, he’d remained silent. Embarrassed by her, she could only guess. She felt like a fool.

She wouldn’t waste time crying and allowed herself to the count of three.

One. Wipe the tears.

Two. Deep breath.

Three. Go.

She moved. Her heart might have been punctured, but she wasn’t going to wallow. She needed time and the space the woods provided. She hurried about the room packing items, wondering if perhaps her mother had always been right. To hide them away behind a hedge. Remaining protected and safe. She reached for her wrist to find comfort in the ribbon only to encounter bare skin, remembering the ribbon had been lost somewhere. Like her. Tarley felt like she’d sloughed off her old skin and was now exposed, raw and new. Being with Lachlan hadn’t felt wrong, only now the hurt was scraping away new growth leaving her exposed once more.

But she wasn’t sure her mother was right either, a strange extreme that felt isolating. Tarley pictured Auri, and her pain trapped inside the hedge. And their mother had lied. How could Tarley justify that?