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“Always so melodramatic!” Whitney sighed. I turned toward her and glared.

“If you know anything of this…” I let my voice trail off. There was something in her eyes I did not like—at all. It was…knowledge. “You know where she is.”

The princess merely shrugged.

“She knows nothing of the sort!” Margaret said, but the tone of her voice had changed. She, too, was looking at her daughter, and I could see the doubt in her eyes.

“You will die if you have touched her,” I said to Whitney. “Where is she?”

“What difference does it make?” Whitney asked. “You do not need her; you never have. I am here for you.”

I scoffed and shook my head, narrowing my eyes at her. Could she be serious? As many times as I had told her she would not be made my queen, could she still think there is a possibility of a union?

“Branford, be reasonable.” Whitney cooed at me. “We are meant to be, not you and some common trash—”

Whatever else she was going to say remained stuck in her throat as I backhanded her across the face. She squealed like an animal and fell to the side before Parnell could right her again.

“Get your hands off my daughter!” Margaret screeched from across the room.

“Where is my wife?” I snarled again at Whitney. I pulled back my hand to hit her a second time while her mother yelled at me.

“I said stay away from her! Do you hear me? She is my daughter and a princess! You will not treat her so!”

I turned and eyed Margaret standing in front of one of my soldiers with her arms pinned behind her back. I stalked slowly over to her and leaned down until my face was but inches from hers.

“Do you know where my wife is?” I asked her quietly.

“No, I do not,” she said in her haughty tone. “And if I did, I would not—”

Margaret’s sentence ended in a choking gasp as my blade slid easily into her. I placed my hand on her shoulder and pushed down at the same time I pulled up with my sword arm, impaling her further with a twist of the blade.

“Then I have no more use for you,” I told her lifeless eyes.

As her body dropped to the ground, I turned back to Whitney. Her eyes were wide as she tried to take a step forward but found herself still in Parnell’s grasp and unable to move. I could hear the muffled cries of Jared and Hedda through their gags.

“King Branford,” Parnell said quietly, “are you sure you want to—”

“Every tower razed.” I repeated my statements from this morning. “No one loyal to Hadebrand survives. No one.”

My gaze moved briefly to the twins where they cowered in the corner of the room. Hedda’s wide eyes were red and swollen as she stared at her mother’s lifeless body. I swallowed hard and turned back to the older princess.

“Tell me now.” I growled as I pointed my sword at her.

Whitney’s gaze moved slowly from the body on the floor back to mine. Her breath came in short, choppy huffs as Parnell yanked her backwards to hold her steady.

“Where is Alexandra?” I yelled again.

“She can rot right where she is!” Whitney screamed back at me, apparently not even realizing her admission.

She knows.

It was revealed in her eyes as well as betrayed on her lips. Edgar…Edgar had not known the plots of his daughter though he had also answered for them. The deed itself, though, had all been Whitney’s. The woman was obviously insane to think such a plot would work to bring her into my good graces, and now she was going to tell me where to find Alexandra.

“Erik,” I called out, and my young page appeared at my side.

“Yes, King Branford?”

“Fetch four horses and bring them to the field just outside the castle walls.”

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