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“Put me down,” she snapped.
“I’m not holding your legs,” Ber pointed out, amusement ringing in his tone.
Her flush deepened at the reminder. Fortunately, he withdrew from her without making her request it. Only when she stood on her own wobbly legs did she finally glare up into his eyes—but the sadness she found there disarmed her before she could say a word. He wasn’t smug or mocking.
Why?
“I’m afraid you need to work on your bladework,” he said softly. “You’ve yet to do more than render a scratch. Shall I show you how to kill a man?”
Words clogged in her throat at the unexpected question. Even after…? But she could see in his eyes that it was no bluff—he was truly serious. He wanted her to kill him. Was his guilt over his betrayal so deep, then? It made no sense. Such coldtreachery didn’t belong in the same heart as someone with such penitence.
So why?
Chapter 9
Performance
Why wasn’t she going along with the plan?
Ber pinched the bridge of his nose as his wife peered at him, the little wrinkle beneath her eyebrows revealing how deeply she was pondering his actions. She knew something was off about his behavior now.Fuck. I never should have touched her.But how could he have expected her to let him?
He needed to think of a way to deflect her curiosity. Unfortunately, thinking wasn’t precisely easy with his mind still dulled by pleasure. “I taught you to be a better assassin than this,” he managed.
Her eyebrow shot up. “Whydidyou do that?”
“You know perfectly well.”
She tilted her hand, her sharp gaze falling to the bloody knife she held. “It’s difficult to fathom that you would spend decades teaching me to sneak around the palace just so I could someday kill you. I hardly needed so much training for that. There were a thousand easier ways I could have done it, especially the nights when you slept so peacefully beside me.”
Curse it all. He should have married someone less perceptive. “I usurped your place. Kill me openly for it, and you’ll be able to uncover the others responsible at your leisure. If Duke Aony manages to claim the throne before you do, it will be a far more difficult fight. He will not yield as easily as you expect, not even to you.”
Her eyes narrowed—and not in the angry way he would have preferred. There was far too much calculation there. “Are you trying to make me believe you’re innocent?”
“No,” Ber insisted. She would never go through with killing him if she knew the whole truth. Instead, she would try to come up with some foolish way to save him. “I helped plan your feigned death. I’m the one who gave Aony your wedding dress.”
She stiffened at the reminder. “An effective blow, that.”
Ber wanted to tell her that it had hurt him to his very soul to relinquish that dress, but he couldn’t. He needed to press harder, instead. “Did you truly not guess why I suggested a body double as your personal guard? Pathetic.”
“If it wouldn’t insult your twin, I would call you a bastard,” Tes said, her hand going white around the dagger’s hilt. “To think he’s beginning to believe your newest lies. I’ll have to turn him back to the realm of caution.”
Unexpected pain speared his heart. He didn’t deserve Toren’s trust any more than Tes’s, yet he craved it from both of them all the same. He always had. But saving his family never had come with a personal reward. Not in his youth and absolutely not now.
“Just get it over with, Tes,” Ber said, hoping his voice didn’t betray the desolation eating at him.
Readying the knife, she took a step forward.
Finally. Finally, I will have peace.
Then a loud, booming knock resounded through the room.
Tes froze,her gaze flicking toward the door. That hadn’t been a friendly sound. It was imperious and unmistakable, that slam of gauntlet-on-wood. And with Ber being the crown prince, there was only one person who could be to blame for it—the king. Nothing good came from a summons from her father in the middle of the night.
“Prince Ber,” a voice intoned. “Your immediate presence is requested by His Majesty King Ryenil. I’ll give you only a minute to prepare yourself and your illicit companion for our entry.”
She and Ber cursed at the same moment. “Your room has no sound-suppressing spells?” she practically hissed.
“Only the ones you last cast. No magic, remember?” he whispered.
