Bertrand’s eyes slid to him. Calm. Patronizing. That familiar, poisonous look he’d worn since Teodor’s death.
“Youliedabout my father and had him executed, made his widow and children wear that shame for two decades. And all the while, it was you.” His voice rang in the stillness. “It was alwaysyou. When he confronted you, you fed him to the fire to save yourself.”
Bertrand’s voice turned indulgent. “Lies. All lies! Your father was reckless. He was an Alpha who desired force and riches above reason. He should’ve been stopped long before. If only he didn’t?—”
“Didn’t what?” Alexander gritted through clenched teeth. “Married the woman you wanted when she wouldn’t have you?”
Bertrand’s composure wavered, a flicker too slow to be missed. “You don’t understand, boy. Your father was a brute.An Alpha drunk on his own rut. He demanded things from your mother no gentlewoman should endure.”
A hush fell over the court. Alexander felt the words ripple through him, a cold hand grabbing his chest.
“She was too refined for him,” Bertrand continued, his eyes beseeching. “I heard the pain she never voiced. You were too young to understand, but she was always tired. She didn’t want more children. Did you know she miscarried three times after your sister was born? She flinched whenever he touched her. That isn’t love. That’s ownership.”
Alexander’s heart thudded hard against his ribs. A thousand images rushed forward: his mother laughing as she sewed; her hands resting on his father’s arm at supper; the smell of the perfume she loved—attar of roses, which his father could only get during trips to the east. And yet, beneath that: her headaches, her silences. The mornings when she stayed in bed late. The way she stared too long at the fire some nights, lips drawn.
“Stop,” Alexander hissed.
But Bertrand pressed on, mouth curling. “I would have treated her with the gentleness and respect a noble Beta deserves, not like a beast marking his territory.”
“Stop.” His voice cracked like a whip.
Something that looked a lot like madness gleamed in Bertrand’s eyes. “You think she chose him? She was a Beta—smart, sweet, loyal—and he used her up!”
Alexander stepped forward and grabbed Bertrand’s collar, lifting him off the ground. “She was my mother. If she ever wanted to leave, she would have. But she stayed.”
“Shehadto stay. Your father would have killed her.”
“She grieved his passing. For years. She never came out of mourning.”
“Of courseshe mourned. That is what good Beta wives are trained to do—weep for the hand that cages them.”
“No,” he roared. “She loved him! Maybe it wasn’t always easy, or perfect. But she did!”
Bertrand’s laugh was small and sharp, like glass underfoot. “Ask the seamstress how often she replaced torn laces. ‘Caught on a hook,’ she always said. Ask the apothecary who sent healing salves to her rooms, always after your father’s Rut. Ask her maid of the sounds she made when your father visited her bed.”
Alexander’s vision went red. He wanted to throttle Bertrand, end him here. But before he could, a cool voice cut through the haze.
“Enough.”
The king’s single word was not a shout, but it silenced the hall. He looked from Alexander’s white-knuckled fist to Bertrand’s feverish face.
“Release him, Lord Wulfbane,” Ferdinand said, his tone leaving no room for debate. “The guard will hold him. You will have your answers, but this is not a tavern brawl.”
Alexander’s chest heaved. For a long second, he held on, the urge to shake the truth from Bertrand warring with the king’s command. With a final, contemptuous shove, he let go. Bertrand staggered back into the grip of the guards.
He turned when JingYi spoke, her voice carrying cleanly through the low murmurs—cool and even. “What passes between a husband and wife belongs to them. We see only fragments—a touch, a glance—and from those scraps we stitch our own stories.”
Bertrand turned toward her, the mask slipping, jaw working.
“But a woman’s smile is not an invitation. Her silence is not consent. Her courtesy is not a plea for help.” She let the hush hold then continued, steady as a blade, “You may have watched Lady Wulfbane, Lord Fortier, but you did not know her.”
Her voice hardened. “What we know is this: while you nursed that . . . belief, you sold purple limyerite to foreign parties and lined your pockets with coins meant for this kingdom’s people. When discovered, you deliberately framed Lord Teodor Wulfbane to take the fall. You let his family and the entire nation believe he was a traitor.”
Bertrand flinched. “I did what I had to. That Alpha had too much power?—”
“Did it feel powerful,” Princess Adelise cut in, her voice ringing through the hall, “to help a foreign trader abduct Omegas and experiment on them? Cage them like beasts? Torture them? Kill them?”
Alexander had no sympathy for the bastard, but Bertranddidlook horrified.
