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“Please,” Ilduin said, lifting his hands as though he was attempting to calm a raging beast—or hold one at bay. “Thoughour alliance is ended, there is no need for such a drastic action. If you’ll allow me to stay, we may speak at leisure about—”

“Begone.” A hint of Toren’s power slid through the room like a threat. “Or I will have you bodily removed. In pieces, if necessary. You’re not to be given shelter by any in Llyalia, so I do hope you have enough gold to pay for a portal back to Centoi.”

The words weren’t directed at her, but a shiver of fear went through her regardless. Had she thought Toren was dangerous when she’d first arrived in Llyalia? If so, she’d been wrong.

Thiswas danger.

Ber paced the room,afraid to slow his steps lest Speran grow restless once more. His son must have sensed the tension filling the castle at the arrival of the Centoi delegation. He hadn’t cried, thankfully, or the noise would have awakened baby Elna in her crib. Yet Speran hadn’t been content to play, and he’d shifted constantly in Ber’s arms unless he was walking.

It couldn’t help that a pit of dread had slowly grown in Ber’s stomach until he feared his whole body would be swallowed by it. Tes was upset—he knew it like his own soul—and there was nothing he could do about it. Did Speran sense both parents’ tumultuous feelings? It seemed likely, but it was impossible to know for sure until their son was old enough to tell them.

For now, though, the steady puffs of breath against the side of Ber’s neck suggested that Speran slept. Ber continued walking to ensure his son had time to fall into a deep rest before he placed the child in his crib. Tension aside, it was no hardship to hold his son, especially after so long apart. No, it was a luxury he’d never thought he’d have.

The door opened, and one of the nursemaids slipped through. Not Mey, but one of the assistants who sometimes helped out. She smiled at him before peeking in on Elna. When she saw the infant sleeping, she settled into the rocking chair, content to await her charge’s every need. Or at least somewhat content—Ber sensed her gaze on him every time he paced away from her.

In return, he found himself analyzing her whenever he could. She appeared to be a normal nursemaid, from her simple, neatly kept dress and pinned up hair to her gentle smile. But with danger in the castle, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he should watch her. Whether it ended up being a waste of time or not, he never ignored an instinct like that.

Once he was sure that Speran was truly asleep, he turned his steps toward his son’s crib. It was across from where the nursemaid sat and was placed such that Ber could only see the edge of Elna’s crib out of the corner of his eye. But with his senses so attuned, he could practically sense where everyone was located in the room.

Ber lowered his son into the crib in a smooth, slow motion, and as he did, he heard the rustle of the nursemaid’s dress as she stood. The hair on Ber’s arms stood on end, and his nape prickled.Something’s wrong.Yet he couldn’t react at once—his hands were still cradled beneath Speran. Carefully, he tried to ease himself free.

At the edge of his vision, he saw the nursemaid leaning over Elna’s crib. It was probably nothing, just a quick check, but he’d rather be wrong than fail to act. So he tugged his still-trapped hand from beneath his son, earning a cry of protest, and spun to face the woman.

Startled, the woman jumped, and a vial slipped from her hand to clatter against the floor. Ber drew his dagger as he gripped her wrist, jerking her away from Elna’s crib. Heslammed the nursemaid’s back against his chest and trapped her arms against her sides in a steely hold. Then he pressed the tip of his dagger against her jugular.

“What’s in the vial?” he demanded.

The woman trembled in his hold. “A sleeping potion. That’s all.”

“That’sall?” His fingers tightened around the hilt of his dagger. If she wasn’t an assassin, did she truly think drugging the princess was acceptable? He sent a quick mental command to the guards—and a warning to Toren. “Tell me the truth, or I’ll kill you where you stand. They don’t call me the dark prince for my hair color.”

Guards poured into the room, followed by a crying Mey and the royal healer, Mery. Mey rushed toward Elna’s crib to check on her, but the healer went straight for the vial resting on the floor like a silent threat. Unfortunately, Ber’s captive remained equally silent. He squeezed her harder and pressed the blade a little deeper.

It slid in the tiny bit of blood he drew, this from the skin. “Just a touch more, and you’ll be dead,” he whispered against her ear.

“I don’t know what’s in it,” his captive finally cried. “I was to give it to the princess and then grab the boy. Ilduin thought it was a sleeping draught.”

Ilduin.

Ber’s vision flashed red, and for a moment, he considered finishing the job. Just a twist of the blade, and he could be done with her. But Mey lifted Speran from his crib to comfort him, and his son’s eyes found him. Locked on him. Gods, Ber couldn’t do it. He couldn’t kill a woman in front of his infant son, not even if she deserved it.

So he nodded to the closest guard. “Come. Help me bind her, and then haul her to the dungeon.”

The woman’s weight had barely left him when the healer stepped close, and as soon as the false nursemaid was hauled away, Mery leaned toward him. “It’s poison, but the seal wasn’t broken. You stopped her in time.”

Not even that relief could break through the cold rage that consumed him. What should he do? Ilduin’s treacherous corpse was down there, awaiting his deserved death. Ilduin just didn’t know it yet. But at the same time, there could still be danger, and Ber had sworn to protect his son—and apparently his niece, too.

Guardian or death-dealer.

Which should he be?

Chapter 41

Overflow

Before Ber could decide which way to turn, Elna’s cry joined Speran’s in a discordant symphony of infant rage. Energy washed over Ber in waves—from both children—and resounded inside his head until a dull ache began to pound behind his eyes. Beside him, the healer sucked in a breath, and a grimacing Mey did her best to rub soothing circles on Speran’s back while calling out sweetly for Elna. Neither attempt to soothe worked.

Already, the ache in his head threatened to surge into true pain, and from what he’d heard, this was only the beginning of the trouble two upset infant magic-users could cause. The babies would have to be soothed or separated, or their emotions and energies would continue to build off each other’s, bringing pain and distress to everyone. He couldn’t leave them like this.