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“How did they die?” I whisper, slipping my fingers out of Jules’ and rubbing my hand over my aching chest.
Jules gives a hesitant glance at Philip. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about it here.”
“I need to know”—I glare at the cat—“if his family had anything to do with their deaths.” I’m not sure why I need to know, what I’ll do. Probably something stupid that will result in me getting hurt, but my head isn’t very clear right now, too congested with deep, blinding, agonizing pain.
Philip’s eyes narrow into slits. “My family didn’t do anything to yours. I know this for a fact.”
“Then why are they locked up?” Tears pool in my eyes as sorrow continues to drown me.
Jules places a hand over mine, running his thumb along my knuckles. “He’s telling the truth. My father falsely accused his family of committing the murders; used them as scapegoats because he needed someone to blame to avoid panic in our pack. Some of our pack knows this, but …” He trails off.
“But what?” I press.
“But they’re afraid of his father,” Philip answers. “Even his own son.”
“I’m not afraid of him,” Jules snaps. “There’s just not much I, or any of the others in the pack, can do. He’s the king.”
“And you’re the prince,” Philip stresses. “Which means you’ll be king once he’s gone.”
Wait. If I’m a princess, then does that mean I’ll be queen?
The aching in my chest increases. What if I am? How am I supposed to rule over a species I not only fear, but know nothing about?
“The crown has already chosen you as the official prince,” Philip adds. “All that’s standing in your way of ruling is the current king.”
“What exactly are you suggesting?” Jules’ tone vibrates with warning. “Because it’s sounding an awful lot like you’re suggesting I kill my father. And punishment for such a suggestion is automatic execution.”
Philip rolls his eyes. “Like you’d kill me. You don’t have it in you to kill an innocent creature, especially when doing so would result in the death of that lovely thing right there.” His eyes land on me.
Jules protectively leans closer to me. “You’re hardly innocent, Philip. But you’re right. I’m not going to kill you.”
Philip smiles smugly. “I never thought you would.”
Jules quirks a brow. “Then why did you look so nervous?”
“I wasn’t nervous,” Philip insists. “I was merely on guard.”
Jules rolls his eyes. “Sure, you were.”
My gaze bounces back and forth between the two now smiling paranormals. “So, you guys are friends now?” I’m so lost.
Jules turns to me. “Not even close. But we are on the same page.”
“Which is …?”
“That we’re going to get my family released,” Philip answers, sinking down on the armrest.
Jules bobs his head up and down, lines creasing his forehead. “It’s going to take some time. I need to figure out a way to prove to my father and the rest of his royal committee that it wasn’t cat shapeshifters who attacked our pack that day.”
“How can you be so sure it wasn’t?” I ask. “If they were accused, isn’t there some proof?”
“That’s the thing,” Jules says. “There was no real proof. My father just needed someone to blame.”
“Okay, so again, I stress, how do you know for sure it wasn’t his family?” I ignore the dirty look I get from Philip.
“Because …” Jules hesitates. “Because I know for a fact that our pack was attacked that day by werewolves from another pack.”
“You’re being very vague,” I point out. “So, why don’t we skip past my stupidly annoying human questions and you just tell me what it is I don’t know?”
