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E verything within me froze. Calista’s lips drew ever closer as her hand slid up to cup Wes’s cheek while the other braced against his chest. And I knew she was breathing in his cologne—the wooded strength of sandalwood with the floral softness of lavender—soothing, captivating, intoxicating.

Time stood still as her lips brushed against his…

And then it was over.

Wes pulled back, turning his face, giving Calista his cheek. She paused, and then gracefully placed her lips on the curvature of his jaw, before stepping back and walking away.

My breath rushed out of me, and I gasped to suck in fresh oxygen into my deprived lungs. And I felt…relieved.

Wait, what?

Why did I feel relief? Why did I even care?

Sure, Wes was my betrothed, but I had no intention of actually marrying him, and we weren’t anything to each other.

So why did I feel relieved when Wes shut Blondie down?

And why did I feel like I was about to suffocate when I thought they were going to make out right in front of me? Why did it matter at all ?

“Shit.” Edith sat back in her chair. “ Girl ,” she drawled, “if Calista’s putting the moves on Wes, then you’ve got trouble.”

“Why?” I muttered as I kept my eyes on Wes, standing stoically with his hands in his pockets. He didn’t move a muscle until finally, he lifted his head and looked right at me. Our eyes locked, glass acting as our only barrier. Then he rolled his shoulders back and walked away.

Maybe he didn’t see me after all? I mean, if you were almost smooching some blonde and realized your fiancé was watching, wouldn’t you try to talk to her about it?

Seriously, what was the problem with men these days?

Nobody said crap—at least not about the things they should talk about—and then they just ghosted you.

Thinking he didn’t see me felt better somehow.

But why does it even matter, Mara? I didn’t have an answer. I didn’t know why this was bugging me so much, but it couldn’t. I couldn’t let it get in the way.

“Earth to Mara!”

I snapped back into the room, turning to face Edith, who looked like she was about to bop me on the head with her spoon. “Yeah? I’m sorry, I’m just…”

“Pissed? Ready to claw her eyes out? Cat fight it up?”

My brows pinched in confusion. “What? No. You just told me to stay away from her.”

“I did. But since when do you listen to me? You’re going to have to get in there and shake that ass—”

Oh my god…not this again. “Edith, please.”

“Seriously! You should be working it .”

“I’m not doing this again with you,” I mumbled as she kept talking over me.

“I mean, do you even know anything about him? Anything you can use to get a leg up? Like, what are his hopes and dreams? What’s he afraid of? What’s his favorite color—”

“Favorite color? What does that have to do with anything?”

“ Everything! ” She shot her hands up in the air, flinging ice cream. “It’s everything , Mara! How do you expect to stake your claim against Calista if you don’t even know what the man’s favorite color is?”

“I highly doubt that knowing Wes’s favorite color is going to make a difference in staking metaphorical claims. And on top of that, I’m not interested in staking anything.”

Edith groaned. “Yes. You. Are. You’ve got to get in there and make sure Calista doesn’t get any weird ideas.”

I rubbed my eyes, growing tired. I needed this day to be over. “Why does it even matter? Wes and I are betrothed. It doesn’t matter what she does, it’s going to end the same way.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, newbie.”

What did she mean I was wrong? How could I be wrong? What didn’t I know?

Edith groaned again, giving me the biggest eyeroll that left me pondering how her eyeballs didn’t come out of their sockets. “Okay, listen up—Calista is Wes’s ex.”

Jesus… This thing all over again? God, I hated this. Why did everyone have an ex who ruined everything? This time, I was the one that groaned.

“That’s right, girly. And she wasn’t too happy about it. Wes broke it off before he transferred to the rebel camp. So, if she’s decided that she wants her old beau back…let’s just say Calista always gets what she wants.”

My stomach twisted, and suddenly I felt sick. “Well,” I interjected, “it doesn’t matter because Wes and I don’t get to pick who we marry, remember? So Blondie’s barking up the wrong tree—”

“Unless Wessy decides he doesn’t want to do what daddy tells him to do anymore, right?”

Wait, what? My body froze. “What do you mean? He can do that?”

“He’s not supposed to do that, but this is freaking Wes we’re talking about here, not Matias. Matias plays by the rules, but Wes lives his life telling the rules to eff off.”

Damn, was that true? Would he do that? “He could decide not to marry me,” I said, more of a statement than a question, and the weight of that possibility settled over me.

“Mmhmm. If Calista has decided she wants him back, and Wes falls for her, then it wouldn’t take much convincing before he tells his dad to go suck it. And from what you already told me, you’re already on Marissa’s shit list. And she loved Calista. She’d back Wes up in a heartbeat against daddy-o.”

Oh my god. “And if Wes backs out…”

“There’s no reason for Sasha or the North to help you save your brother.”

Well shit.

***

I felt queasy the entire drive back to the estate.

I was so confused by everything going on inside me.

I needed Wes to stick to the plan of marrying me, at least until after I got my brother back.

After that, he could live happily ever after with Blondie.

At least that part made me feel better. I felt less like a bitch knowing that Wes had someone waiting for him once I disappeared on the rescue mission.

I just had to make sure he didn’t back out before then.

I had three weeks to get through, and then I would be home free, and so would Wes.

But that’s where I felt stuck. Did I let Wes in on everything?

Tell him the truth and beg him to play along until I ran away?

That option sounded the most appealing, but what if he got upset and told Sasha?

What if he wanted the North to gain power and the whole thing blew up in my face?

I couldn’t risk that. The truth was, I didn’t know if Wes still wanted Calista or not.

I mean, it kind of looked like maybe he did.

But, then again, he pulled back and didn’t let her kiss him.

What did that mean? Did it mean he wasn’t into her anymore? Or was it just the whole optics thing?

Ugh…why did this stuff always have to be so confusing?

Why couldn’t things just be simple? Why did everyone have to keep damn secrets?

I hated this sneaking around crap! How did people live their entire lives this way?

I just didn’t get it. I had only been doing it for two days, and I was already looking for excuses to spill the beans.

I just wasn’t cut out for all of this political BS.

I rubbed my eyes, exhausted by the drama and nonsense I found myself in.

No…I couldn’t risk this whole thing falling apart.

I had one goal, and one goal only: save Jacob.

And I was going to do whatever it took to meet that goal.

In the end, I couldn’t care less about Raúl or the Dissenters or any of it.

They could figure out their own mess. Jacob and I didn’t need anybody or anyone.

So that left me only one choice: play the part.

Play the role of a doting fiancé, and ride that princess pony home.

It was only three weeks. Anyone could do anything for three weeks.

I could keep Marissa off my back, plan a rescue, and stake my temporary claim on Wes against Blondie for three weeks, right? It was doable, right?

Of course! I had this. But if that was the case, why did the sinking feeling dive deeper into my stomach? And why did I have the sneaking suspicion that I was making the biggest mistake of my life?