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“Right.” I take a deep breath, daring to take a seat on the top step. “About that…”

But she shakes her head. “Don’t. My King told me what Will did. I wasn’t even too surprised.”

I tense, eyes scanning the parking lot for Ballsy’s car. “You knew what he was going to do to me?”

Her head whips around, eyes wide. “Of course not. If I’d known, I would have told Father—I mean, the King.” Frowning, she averts her gaze. “Do you know why the King chose them like he did? Why he wanted Williams last year?”

I cradle my belly, thinking of him—Will—staring down at me that night of the attack. “Not really.”

Shrugging, she answers. “He always has a theme, doesn’t he? My Freshman year, the Barons were all CS majors. The year before that, anatomy experts. The year before that, it was chemists. He always has a plan. But lately, he’s been… hungry,” she explains with a troubled tilt of her mouth. “To build a family. And William is his middle name. His father’s middle name. His son’s. They all knew what they were meant to be, but Liam and Bill understood it was symbolic. Will, though…” She inhales, jaw tightening. “He took it too literally. He wanted to protect his father’s legacy. The wicked path can be like that, you know.” Meeting my gaze, she stresses, “It’s not just a title or a game. It’s more than life or death. It’s a skin we wear. They might take off the masks at the end of the ceremony, but the sense of self never returns.”

I know this is a perfect lead-up to my question, but I can’t help but ask another. “Has yours?”

Her brow knits up, surprise crossing her face. “I don’t know,” she answers, although, from the way she shifts her gaze to the distance, I get the impression this is the first time she’s considered it.

“Your reign is over now,” I say, fishing. “Maybe it’s good that some other girl takes the path because now you can be anything.”

She flexes her hands on her knees, watching them with a grim expression. “He’s already chosen her and two of her Barons. But that’s not the worst part. I visited the House of Night the other day, and it looks like they’re preparing it for a—” But here, she pauses, body tensing. “I suppose I shouldn’t say. Like you said, my reign is over.” She glances at me. “Yours will be soon, won’t it?”

Whatever the thing is she came close to telling me, it’s like sand falling through my fingers. Sighing, I rub my stomach. “I’m not sure it’ll be that simple for me.”

She balks at the phrase. Simple. “For those of us on the wicked path, true self is about loyalty. Do you trust your lover enough to die? To give yourself over a hundred percent, body, mind, and soul? We’re not just bound in this life, but also in the next. Will may be gone, but he’s still tethered to me, waiting until I cross the veil.”

I fail to repress a shiver. “That sure is some commitment.”

Her smile is soft and unbearably sad. “It’s our way.”

“They’re under a lot of pressure—the Royal men.”

She nods. “They are.”

“Although,” I add, giving her a significant look. “I don’t think they appreciate how much pressure they apply to us.”

“No, I don’t think so.” Her eyes meet mine. “You’re strong, though. If you hadn’t been, my Will would have taken you. No doubt.”

“I’ve had no choice but to be strong.” I look down at my belly, working up the courage to be honest with this woman. Thisrivalwoman. “Have you ever heard how a Princess gets initiated?”

“No,” she says, turning to me more fully. “Is it quite awful?”

I pause, thinking that this may be the first Royal woman to even assume that itisawful. “Well, first they take you to this room…”

And I tell her.

I tell Regina Thorn the whole sordid, disgusting, depraved thing. With each detail I lay bare before her, from the throning to the first deposit, to the fact my own biological father was there to witness and encourage the whole thing, her mouth purses up tighter and tighter.

When I’m done, I let the silence drag on. I wait for the crushing wave of shame, but it never arrives. The throning feels so far away now, as if I’d experienced it in a different life. Maybe we’re not so different from the Barons, because being Princess—it’s become a skin.

“But,” I go on, playing coy, “I’m sure the Baroness has an easier initiation.”

Living around DKS for so long, no one knows better than me that people are competitive. Not only in their wins, but also in their losses.

Her eyes flare. “Easy? There’s nothing easy about the hunt.”

I pause. “The hunt?”

“That’s what they do,” she explains. “The King sets the four of you loose in the forest behind the crypt, and the Barons hunt you. It’s not just the Baroness’ initiation. It’s the Barons’, too.”

“They hunt you?” I ask, horrified. “Like an animal?”