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He’ll never speak treachery again.

Though her stomach roiled, she didn’t feel regret when the light finally disappeared from his eyes. Ilduin had done dark deeds for her father for as long as she could recall, but he hadn’t feigned completion the way Ber had. Ilduin had relished every awful act. How many times had she been forced to ignore him abusing servants, directly or indirectly? The number was far too high to count.

After hearing the details of his plan, it had been clear that imprisonment wouldn’t be enough, not if she and Ber hoped to clear the shadows from the Centoi court. Toren killing Ilduin would have been a scandal—her doing so was a statement. Shewasn’t like her father, but she wasn’t soft, either. It was time her people learned that the Jewel of Centoi had sharp edges.

Tes released her hold on the knife and let the body drop onto the floor. For a moment, only the sound of that thud echoed through the room, no one daring to so much as breathe. Not that she could blame them. She had to be a sight, her arm coated in blood and the rest of her splattered with it.

She lifted her chin and caught the nearest dignitary’s gaze. “The punishment for attempting to murder the heir to the Llyalian throne and to abduct a prince of Centoi is death. Absolute and undisputed.”

Although the dignitary had gone paler than her snow-white tunic, she curtsied deeply and then spoke. “I knew nothing of the plan, Your Highness. Still, if Lord Ilduin was following our king’s orders…”

“Do you agree with murdering infants, then?” Tes snapped.

The woman flinched. “Of course not. But surely His Majesty will not be pleased when we deliver Lord Ilduin’s body. What are we to say?”

“You could tell him the truth.” This time, Tes let her gaze flow over the entire group. “That his daughter, Princess Etessa, the so-called Jewel of Centoi, refuses to allow his atrocities to continue. His dark reign is at an end. He simply hasn’t realized it yet.”

Varying expressions greeted that declaration—relief, fear, doubt, and annoyance—before being quickly stifled. The first woman’s throat worked, and she cast a quick, furtive glance at Ilduin’s body before she replied. “He’ll kill us, Your Majesty.”

Your Majesty. As if I’m already the queen.

As she processed that change, Toren’s voice rang out behind her. “All who passed the truth spell may stay safely in our secured tower until matters have improved.”

Tes smiled at the clever offer. No doubt, it was the same location he held nobles who hadn’t quite been cleared of a crime. Comfortable…but guarded. “I recommend you accept.”

“I…” The dignitary shook her head. “No, I cannot. The others may, but I must return word of all that has transpired to the people of Centoi. They must know that the treaty is broken. And above all, they must know that you live.”

Unfortunately, there was truth in that statement. If Toren had Ilduin’s body sent back with a formal letter, the news could be easily stifled or perverted. A living witness from the initial delegation would be more difficult to deny. But they both understood that it was a death sentence.

“I’ll see that your family is rewarded for your sacrifice,” Tes said softly.

As guards escorted the rest of the dignitaries from the throne room, she felt Ber slip up behind her. She longed to lean back into his arms, but she couldn’t. She had to appear strong until they were alone once more. Wasn’t that the fate of a queen? To be the strength others longed to have in their own hearts?

Even if it was missing from her own.

After a few declarationsand a bit of clean up, Toren dismissed court and sent the nobles from the room. Ber would normally have felt relief at the brevity, but he was too worried about his family for that shallow comfort. Tes stood like a blood-covered statue of vengeance, her turmoil hidden from all but him. His own stomach churned with it, and that made a poor combination with the energy humming beneath his skin and the concern for Speran sending his heart pounding.

And Toren. His outward control held, but lines of strain bracketed his mouth as he spun toward the private exit. Nearly losing hold of his power would haunt him, of that Ber had no doubt. It would take Toren much longer to get beyond that supposed failure to recognize the possibilities revealed by the lapse.

Ber could use the energy his brother held.

He might have channeled Toren’s energy when they’d been very young, but they’d never experimented beyond that when they’d grown older. Why risk disaster? And in the early days, a disaster it might have been. No child should have to hold such a dangerous well of power, for it had threatened to ruin them all more than once. Every tantrum and mood shift had been a risk no one else could ever understand.

But they were grown now, and Toren’s power and control had grown with him. Perhaps it could be used for more than changing the kingdom’s laws. Things like the coming war, for instance.

At the door to the antechamber, Tes came to a halt. “I don’t want Speran to see me like this,” she whispered.

The others hurried through, no doubt to see Elna, and a sudden impatience chafed at Ber to see his son. But Tes had a point. No matter how much she would want to hug their child, too, she couldn’t do it in her current state.

“I’ll carry him ahead to the nursery.”

She sagged with relief. “Thank you.”

He wanted to kiss her, but then he might end up covered in blood, too. All he could offer was a smile before following the rest of the royal family into the antechamber. And that was pure chaos, with Ria crying as she snuggled Elna close and Mehl attempting to soothe her. Speran wiggled in Mey’s hold as a mage cast bubbles overhead, but his whimpers heralded his approaching tears.

Only Toren stood back, his expression haunted.

After Ber claimed his son from the nursemaid, he returned to his brother’s side. “What are you doing over here?”