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Her mother puffed out a laugh, and her expression softened. Lillian’s heart twisted at the thought of how infrequent Anilla’s smiles were now. “Consort may be out of his grasp, but there are still other magical heirs to be made.”

Lillian’s shoulders sank back as they entered the sitting room. This idea of her father’s wasn’t new. It was as old as it was ridiculous. Why would he only want one magical grandchild when he had two children to produce them? As if it were that easy.

Urian came in as the ladies sat on a sofa. “Lillian, we’ve learned that Elea has crowned Arabella as her heir.” He dropped into the seat across from them, his eyes never leaving his daughter.

“That’s probably causing quite a bit of excitement in Alchos.” It was the most neutral thing Lillian could think to say. All three kingdoms in the continent had female heirs now which must feel like a fork scraping a plate to her father.

“Indeed. And you could have been her sister.”

Lillian wasn’t bold enough to say Arabella could have been his daughter. That shade of purple wouldn’t look good on his face. “It is tragic,” she said instead.

“Quite,” Urian said with all the stoicism of someone who only knew the technical definition of the word tragedy. “However, our connections to that family needn’t be lost.”

A shallow breath was all she could take in this gown, so it would have to do to fortify her. “Rylan’s betrothal is still out of the Queen’s and King’s hands.”

“Yes, because they are idiot romantics.”

Anilla sighed. “Urian.”

“It doesn’t mean the girl couldn’t seduce him,” her father said as if she wasn’t present. It was almost comforting for how familiar it was.

“Darling, I don’t foresee Prince Rylan choosing to marry into our court.”

Now her mother was the only one who could come to Lillian’s defense in such matters. Last time, Jamys was there to talk their father out of sending Lillian along for the Exos royal tour. The pragmatic reasoning that Jamys would lose time with Arabella to be his sister’s keeper was something Urian could accept. Their betrothal was a delicate blossom that could have easily been destroyed by Ceraun’s strife. Not that it mattered in the end. Still, without such justification, her father would have shoved her to the sides of either Prince Rylan or Prince Marcus in a heartbeat. Such a plan seemed to be returning to the forefront of his mind.

“Rylan wanted to be king.” Urian took the wineglass offered by a servant. “He could still be a king.”

“It would have to be initiated by him,” her mother said, “and I don’t think he will.”

Rylan rather frightened Lillian, but there was no reason to voice that. Urian wouldn’t care if he married off his daughter to a man whose ground-rattling temper made her cower. He’d probably consider that a point in Rylan’s favor. It was a blessing that Anilla was right, and Rylan would not choose Lillian of his own free will. The only way to secure a marriage with an Alchosian royal would be through a contract. Why else would any of those powerful, outspoken, beautiful people want to stick themselves with the cloistered, quiet girl she was?

“He should be looking for a replacement for his crown,” the King said. “If this doesn’t strike him as a prime opportunity, he’s a conceited fool thinking Ceraun isn’t grand enough for him.”

“And he may be,”—Anilla’s voice was soft—“however, that will be his loss.”

“There’s Marcus then,” Urian said.

Another too-shallow sigh pressed Lillian’s ribs into her corset. Marcus wasn’t intimidating the way Rylan was. The Prince of Earth radiated raw power in a way that always felt it was on the brink of bursting. Marcus, on the other hand, always appeared to be in control. Even when he was about to drown in the first trial, he was focused and composed. His expulsion from the competition after that was a mystery to Lillian. Her own father would have applauded the use of threatening self-destruction to manipulate someone.

However, nothing about Marcus’ soothing calm or quiet confidence or piercing dark eyes mattered. He probably hated her, because his twin did. The many reasons being with Marcus would be horribly awkward made her shudder. These, too, were reasons her father would not take into consideration.

“If you wish to ask Elea and Gratian about it,” Lillian said, “of course I’ll do whatever is required of me.”

It wouldn’t matter. The Exoses had more say in their lives, and Marcus would certainly turn down such an offer. The sting down her middle was still her corset, not preemptive hurt from the expected rejection.

“Of course you will,” Urian said in a way that made it seem her unnecessary agreement offended him.

She didn’t need to agree to anything. Her opinions were not relevant.

Lillian knew as well as her father did that she would do whatever they asked of her. Like a good princess.