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He grins, silent laughter shaking the bed, but in the dark, I see the shadow of his fist extended toward mine. “Agreed. I’ll go to the death to ensure it.”

12

Verity

I didn’t realizehow it would feel to see the new nursery for the first time.

As I look upon it, cradling the swell of my belly, I find it psychologically freeing. It’s as if we’ve shed the smallest piece of the Purple Palace for the most innocent of beings. It’s not finished, but the hardwoods gleam with a fresh coat of polyurethane, and the walls are prepped with primer.

Fresh.

Ready for a new beginning.

The contractors tried to finish up before they were dismissed, sending me lookbooks and stacks of paint swatches for the walls, but I just can’t make up my mind. Wall paint or not, we’re nearing the final six weeks of this pregnancy and it’s time to make other decisions, which is why Lex is following me around the room with a pencil and notepad while Pace and Wicker try to pretend like they’re being helpful.

“We’ll need a crib and a changing table,” I comment, ignoring the focus of his amber eyes on me, “and a dresser can go over there.”

“Got it,” Lex says, a little too quickly. “Any other furniture?”

“Maybe a rocker for over in that corner. Or a glider?” I consider both, determined not to let the moment be spoiled by my own anger at him. “Those seem comfortable.”

Lex tucks a lock of his hair behind an ear, the movement casual in its frustration. He’s been fidgeting with it all day. It’s all I can do not to snap at him to just put it up. If he thinks wearing his hair down all week can thaw the ice between us, he’s wrong. “We can go try some out, see which one you like best.”

“The crib needs to go on this wall,” Pace says, pointing to the one wall without any other doors or windows. “I think it’ll be the best coverage for security.”

“No visible cameras,” I remind him.

Pace grins in that soft, dark way that borders on condescending. “Nanny cams have come a long way. I’ll make it totally innocuous.”

“What about you?” I ask Wicker, who’s been oddly quiet. I hold up the lookbook. “What do you think? Tigers, giraffes, or elephants?”

Wicker blinks. “Are we opening a slightly illegal petting zoo?”

Frowning, I flip to some other pages. “Well, there’s also trains, bunnies, and baby ducks.”

“For the tigers to eat?”

“For the theme,” I whine, flashing him a page with a forest theme. “Gun to your head, which would you choose?”

“Can you just pull the trigger?” When my face falls, his lips turn up in a smirk. “Just fucking with you, Red. If you ask me, it already looks good. Bigger with everything taken out, you know?”

“It’s an improvement,” Pace says. He’s wearing a tight, dark tee that strains at the upper arms. For the last three days, ever since he began sleeping in my bed without any surveillance equipment, he’s been on a training kick. “I can’t even smell the stench of sweat, weed, and masturbation anymore.” He moves to the corner and waves his brother over. “Come give me a boost. I want to check this angle.”

I lean against the closet door and prop my hand on my lower back, rubbing the sore muscles. I’m wearing a pair of oversized overalls with a cropped tank underneath. Thoroughly non-princessy.

“You okay?” Lex asks, taking any chance to touch my belly.

It doesn’t matter that my body wants to lean into his touch. I still scowl, looking away. “Just achy.”

The way I feel at thirty-two weeks makes me long for the first trimester and the days of morning sickness. At least then I was still skinny and didn’t feel like I needed to pee every fifteen minutes. “Normal stuff. I promise.”

“You need to rest? A bath?” His hand replaces mine, continuing to work his way up my side. “A massage?” His thumb grazes against the side of my breast, triggering a heaviness and tightened nipples.

“No,” I say quickly. “I’m fine.”

Lex’s sigh reverberates more loudly than his whisper. “You’re still pissed at me?Really? It’s just some blood samples. We could unlock all of Forsyth’s secrets if we just?—”

I shoot him a sharp look, cutting him off. “You might want to sell that to someone who isn’t the illegitimate daughter of Forsyth’s worst King.” Scoffing, I add, “You act like this city doesn’t run on secrets for a reason. I know you’re smarter than that.”