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It’s difficult to look him in the eye with the storm cloud hanging over me. It’s entirely possible this man is responsible for almost killing my Princess and our child. And the thought of him watching Wicker? It makes me want to fly over this table and stab him in the fucking eye. But I meant what I said to Verity before.

So I slide over a tablet and a thin manila folder. “I think you’ll find this satisfactory. Tomorrow’s Royal Gazette, online and in print.” He opens the tablet to a color image of Rufus Ashby standing in front of a shiny modern skyscraper in Indonesia—Jakarta, specifically. “This should satisfy anyone questioning Father’s whereabouts. As you can read, he’s busy checking out operations for a new cybersecurity firm that only began launching operations on Saturday.”

The ‘shopping job was easy enough. It took a little more effort to make a believable paper trail, but it should hold up to scrutiny.

It’s impossible to tell what Maddox is thinking behind the mask as he reads the article. “You have flight records? Credit card statements? Banking logs?”

I give him a long, derisive look. “Don’t insult me.”

Humming, he scans the papers in the file folder. “A video would have been better,” he laments, but despite the daggers I’m staring, he shuts the folder. “However, I agree that this should keep Trudie Stein from calling my office every fifteen minutes, and allow me and the other Kings a shred of plausible deniability if the truth comes out.” He hands me back the tablet, but keeps the folder for himself. “And how is your dear father? Are you going to need our services soon? The crypt always welcomes fallen crowns.”

One day, hopefully yours.

“Not yet,” I say, feeling the slight uptick in my pulse. “We’ve been encouraging him to share some of his darker secrets with us.”

Maddox folds his fingers against the tabletop. “More women buried in the backyard?”

“Actually, no,” Verity grits out. “Somethingcurrent.”

There’s a tense beat, and then Maddox’s clipped sigh. “Why do I get the impression you have something else to annoy me with?”

Keeping my temper in check, I inhale deeply. “We’ve known for some time that the attack on our Princess came at my father’s command. It was a test for me and my brothers—to be sure that we’re fit for parenting an heir.” I twist my neck, stretching my muscles. “The actions of a crazed, desperate man.”

“Seems like it.” He nudges his drink aside, still untouched. His mask doesn’t even have an opening for his mouth.

“But whoever he hired, they went off script, and we’ve had some trouble figuring out who he contracted.” I don’t even blink in fear of missing a tell. I scrutinize him for anything. A blink. A twitch. A fucking exhale. And I findnothing. The pointed horns of his golden mask gleam in the ambient light, but whatever’s beneath it is hidden. Leaning back, I continue, “Luckily, after some persuasion by my brother, Verity was able to get a name.”

A sigh. “And that name is?”

Verity’s the one to pitch forward, hurling the name like an accusation. “William.”

Slowly, Maddox unlaces his fingers, back straightening. “Impossible.”

To drive home just how possible I believe this is, I take the knife from the sheath strapped to my belt and stab it right into the middle of the manila folder—a bare inch from his hand.

The resoundingclunkdraws a flinching sea of stares.

I tighten my grip on the hilt. “I’m going to need a little more convincing.”

I’m clocked into my periphery on a good day, but right now, it might as well be a laser focus. It’s how I catch the movement in the shadows near the back, without even having to break Maddox’s eerie stare. There’s another to our left, and while I don’t see the shadow shifting behind me, I can sense it, like a prickle on the back of my neck.

Beside me, Verity’s throat clicks with a swallow.

But Maddox just raises a hand, gesturing casually with two fingers. “I don’t know anything about a contract,” he says, the figures in the dark corners bleeding away, “and I never gave such an order. My Barons are as faithful to me as the shadows.”

Verity audibly gnashes her teeth. “For someone keeping tabs on theKayes heir, it certainly seems like you have a motive.”

“I don’t keep tabs on Whitaker because I’m threatened by him,” he replies, glaring at her from beneath his mask. When his gaze shifts to me, it’s thin and flinty. “Your father is lying.”

“Oneof you is lying,” I correct, falling back to leave the knife buried between us. “And since he’s the only one whose balls I’ve had hooked up to a car battery this week, you’ll understand if his words hold a little more weight.”

Maddox’s voice twists into a mocking tone. “Well, you’ll excuse me if I don’t have a car battery handy.”

I grin. “I do.”

“Who’s going to kill Rufus?” he asks, catching me off guard. “Someone needs to take the crown and it’s clearly going to be one of you. After you’re finished getting your pounds of flesh, who’s going to be holding that knife?”

Shrugging, I reply, “You’ll know when we need you to know.”