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“You’re wrong.” A dark, nearly vicious expression crossed Ber’s face, and his fingers went white around the armrests. “Whatever you end up believing about me, be certain about this. When I said I sent Tes here to discover the type of man you are, I wasn’t lying. I knew you would protect her and our child as soon as you discovered the truth. Keep her here, hidden. From her horrid father. From me. From everyone. Nothing else matters so long as she and the baby are safe.”

Once again, Toren could only stare at his brother. In all their years of life, he’d never seen such protectiveness from Ber. Never. Could his brother feign such a fierce demeanor? The glint in his eyes that suggested he’d kill anyone who laid a finger on Tes? It was beyond Toren’s every experience with his twin.

And for the first time in ages, he truly didn’t know what to believe.

* * *

Mehl pacedthe perimeter of Toren’s office like a sentinel patrolling the parapets. This was intolerable. Even at a distance, he was linked enough with his husband to feel echoes of his emotions—shock, anger, uncertainty. But worst of all? Toren was wavering. Whatever foolish tale his brother was spinning, Toren wanted to believe.

And badly.

The door opened, and a servant passed a basket to one of the bodyguards. Although Mehl knew what it should be—the princess’s embroidery—he stopped the guard to claim the basket for himself. He’d been tasked with keeping everyone safe, and it was a duty he would not shirk. So he lifted the lid and searched for anything amiss.

He spotted quite a few skeins of thread, a packet of needles, a tiny pair of scissors, and a surprising assortment of folded cloth. However, the works-in-progress bundled near the top were what gave him pause. Was that…a gaping wound sewn across her betraying husband’s chest? Had she seriously embroidered a detailed image of Prince Ber just to depict in fabric how she wanted to kill him?

Ryssa snatched the basket from his hands. “It’s the only way I can stab him at the moment,” she muttered before marching back to her seat.

As Mehl tapped his fingers against the knife hidden beneath his robe, he couldn’t help but contemplate how long it took to learn embroidery. For surely, he could see the value in stabbing something sharp into Ber’s visage. Repeatedly and with vigor.

It seemed to be the only way the princess could tolerate the situation. Though she began to jab her needle into the fabric with a scowl on her face, a little of the tension eased from her shoulders. Mehl had to admire her fortitude. At this point, she had the most right to make Ber suffer.

“I can’t stand this,” Ria cried, jerking to her feet. “I can feel his turmoil.”

Mehl hurried to her side, but at a soft word from the healer, Ria closed her eyes and breathed deep. Though she settled a bit, Mehl gathered her into his arms. “I know, love. I can, too.”

Gods, but he longed to charge out of the room after their husband. Too bad he couldn’t. At this point, the best he could do was keep the rest of their family safe and trust in Toren’s good sense.

* * *

Sometimes,hope was a miserable thing, a fact Toren had learned at the hands of the very man sitting across from him. How often had some small kindness prompted that fickle light to spark in Toren’s heart, only to have a new cruelty extinguish it? All his life, he’d heard how twins should be close. The best of friends. But that had been forever impossible with his own.

He couldn’t betray Princess Tes by misplacing his trust now.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Toren said. “The princess’s body was delivered to the Centoi court some time ago. Do you have another wife you’d like me to protect?”

This time, it wasBerwho studiedhim. Toren braced himself for insistence—or for probing questions—but his brother gave a sharp nod. “No,” Ber said. “I’ll only have Tes until the day she kills me. I’m sure she has at least three plots in mind already.”

That assessment rang so true that doubt rejoined hope in causing Toren turmoil, but there were some risks he could not take. He was not a young man free of responsibilities—he was High King, husband, and father-to-be. A situation like this took infinite care and thought.

“Once again,” Toren said, “Tell me why you devised this meeting. I know there’s a greater reason.”

Sighing, Ber swept his hand through his long, dark hair. “Fine. King Ryenil planned to have Tes killed as soon as our child was born. Then once I’d successfully challenged you, he would raise the child while I reigned here. I’m sure you can see what happens then, right? He’d have me murdered, and his bloodline would end up with both kingdoms, my child his little puppet.”

The claim sent a new wave of rage through Toren, and his shields shuddered beneath the surge of his energy. He had to breathe. In and out. Right now, calm control was the only tool he had. There was no punishment he could deliver and no control he could take. Not at the moment.

It could be a lie,he reminded himself.

But of all the things his brother had said, Toren suspected this was truth. He’d already noted that something was terribly wrong in the Centoi court, and the king’s callous message about his daughter’s death had only confirmed it. Such a sick plot matched everything he’d learned about King Ryenil.

The question was whether or not Ber was in collusion.

Toren struggled to unclench his teeth enough to speak. “Knowing this, you still challenged me?”

“For your own safety. Besides, youneedan heir.” Ber leaned back in his seat. Then forward again. Why was he so agitated? “Preferably more than one. I infiltrated the Centoi court a little too well, Tor. I should have stayed away from Tes, not fallen… I should have left her alone. The things I learned after gaining Ryenil’s trust haunt my sleep. But I can’t leave Centoi. As long as I’m the next in line to your throne, he’ll try to get you out of the way. He considers my exile an inconvenient formality. As we wait out the terms of the challenge, you’re safe from assassins. You have no idea—”

Ber’s mouth snapped closed, and the horror that twisted his expression in that moment made Toren’s stomach roil. But he couldn’t relent. “This is too much trust to expect, Ber.”

His brother nodded. “Then I’ll deliver my terms and leave. They are simple enough. Use your power to alter the inheritance laws. I don’t care how, so long as I’m removed from succession. Do that, and the challenge will naturally end. But don’t announce it. Only an Eyamiri will know, and our cousins are too far-flung to notice.”