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Pace freezes, cutting me a look, but ultimately mutters, “I’ll allow it on grounds of accuracy.”

On the crest of my laugh, I see movement near the back, realizing Wicker’s taken the secret passage down. He stops beside the begonias, hands stuffed in his pockets, and the hard expression on his face makes my stomach swoop unhappily. “The Dicks seriously let you come here?” he asks, jaw ticking as he glances upward. “We’re not alone.”

“I know,” I assure, acknowledging that Ashby is up in his office. “But I have something to say to you. All of you.” It’s one of the reasons there’s a van full of DKS members parked right up the bridge, itching for a reason.

It’s also why I take another stab at the bed of stinging nettles.

Wicker darts forward, snatching the shovel from me. “This bed rest deal looks suspiciously like manual fucking labor.” Pushing up his sleeves, he adds, “If anyone’s going to gut this thing, it’s going to be me.”

“Here,” Lex says, helping me up from the pillow. I don’t argue as he leads me over to an ornate bench.

“Say what you came to say,” Pace says, glancing nervously at the door as if Ashby could walk through it at any moment.

He won’t, though.

Someone’s keeping him busy on the phone.

The first stab of the shovel into the dirt spurs me on, and I take a breath. “I’ve made a lot of compromises since becoming Princess. First, my idea of sex, and then my concept of motherhood. I settled for something that wasn’t love, and then I gained the world’s worst father.” I follow Pace’s anxious stare. “I settled for what I was given because I was never in a position to ask for anything more.” Looking at Lex, I say, “I’ve decided I’m done settling.”

He frowns, shifting uneasily. “What does that mean?”

I slide my phone from my pocket. “It means that Simon and Killian are standing by for my call.” Wicker flicks his eyes at me, confused. “When they receive it, they’re prepared to join you at the old courthouse for a meeting.”

“About what?” Pace asks, guiding Effie to the pot hanging beside him.

The knowing tension in his voice isn’t enough to stop me from putting it out there. “About our father, and what they can do to bind his power.” The moment he spins, I reach for him, snagging his shirt hem. “Pace, stop.”

Miraculously he does, reaching up to push his fingers through his hair. “Goddamn it.”

“I understand why you wanted to run,” I begin, looking at Lex. He’s as rigid as the statues in the distance. “You were all raised in a cage, and then taught to keep it a secret. It never even occurred to you to look outward instead of inward, because you can’t trust them.” Holding his stare, I add, “But you can trust me.”

After a strained pause, Lex asks, “What did you do?”

I look down at my hands—at the ring I’m now realizing can’t be removed. Not without cutting a piece of myself away. It’s demented, but in some ways, symbolic. “I realized I’m more than just a Princess. I’m a Royal, and for once, I’m going to be selfish because… because I want it all.” I look up, catching Wicker’s glare. “I want my family—East and West—and I want my baby to grow up with fathers who love and protect him. The kind of father his parents never had.”

Lex rubs his forehead, nostrils flaring with a deep inhale. “Father can’t be ousted, Verity.” When he meets my gaze, there’s a rueful sort of resignation in them. “PNZ won’t back a claim from us.”

Wicker slams the shovel into the dirt. “And our son will have two targets on his head instead of one!”

“Not yet,” I admit, keeping my voice steady. “But with the power of three Kings behind us, we can buy our safety and stay in Forsyth.” I try to imagine what raising a son will even look like. This is Forsyth, so there aren’t really many good examples out there.

Sy and Nick’s mom did it, though.

But she didn’t do it alone.

Pace spins once again, only to snap right back. “So they’re going to… what? Politically neuter him?”

At least he doesn’t sound completely unhinged about the idea.

“For lack of a better word.” Shrugging, I watch Lex carefully, because I get the feeling they’ll follow him. “But they’re going to need more. I know you’ve been hoarding leverage—”

Pace bursts, “We’re not handing everything we’ve spent our whole lives building over to three rival houses.”

“Who’s the third King?” Wicker’s voice oozes with quiet fury. “The man who killed my father?” he asks, pinning me with his blue eyes. “The murderer who gave me to Rufus fucking Ashby? That’s who you’re asking us to trust?”

My heart sinks. I knew some part of them would see even the suggestion as a betrayal, but I couldn’t have begun to expect the severity of it.

Wicker looks destroyed.