She can’t quite squash the grimace that dances up to her lips. ‘It is expected, I suppose,’ she responds, as if the idea doesn’t make her very skin crawl. ‘I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.’

‘No! Godsdamn it, Acacia. Over my dead body.’

‘Well, it very nearly was, wasn’t it?’ she spits. ‘And still, you never once stopped to ask me what I want. You’ve spent so long protecting me, shielding me, but you’ve never even seen who I am.’

‘That’s not true, Kay,’ I say, stung. ‘I see you. I know you. More than any other.’

‘I don’t know if you do,’ she says slowly. ‘And I don’t know if I know you, either. I don’t know that person who beat a man close to death then killed him with a fucking rock.’

‘He deserved it,’ I snarl. ‘He killed my friend. Tried to kill me!’

‘But what gave you the right to dole out his punishment?’

‘I was defending myself!’

She lets out a long sigh. ‘Rose, maybe Artur isn’t who I dreamed of marrying, but I deserve to have some choice in the matter. And it is my choice. This is what I’m doing. Choosing to marry him rather than to be stripped and cast out again.’

I drop my head into my hands. She’s right; it is her choice. But she’s making a bad one. I promised Mother I would look after her, and standing by and letting her ruin her life is not that.

Before silence has a chance to fall, the door creaks open. I ready myself to make whoever it is leave again, only to find myself face to face with Lord Lorathin himself. Portly, balding, and with a gleam in his eyes that I want to punch out of them.

‘Ah, Acacia, my dearest,’ he says, sliding up to Kay and slipping his hand around her waist in a proprietary manner that makes me want to vomit. ‘Have you told your sister the good news?’

Her stubborn mouth flashes me a smile even as I can see the anxiety shining within her eyes. She will do this. She will marry this old man just to prove a point, just to prove she doesn’t need me to solve her problems.

Maybe she’s right, and I don’t know her at all, because I never believed my sister would be so damned stupid.

I stand. ‘Just in case you wanted it, please know that you do not have my blessing, and I will do everything in my power to make sure this obscene wedding doesn’t happen.’

With my final words said, I whirl around and storm out of the antechamber, only to collide with the frame of a young man. Another ward of Lorathin’s who I’ve just thundered into with such force that he’s crashed into the wall and fallen on his ass.

‘William,’ I say contritely. ‘I’m sorry.’ I offer a hand to him and pull him back to standing.

‘It’s fine. Father told me to wait outside the room. Gosh, you are strong.’ He gives me an admiring look. ‘No wonder you won the Retterheld. What you have done, it’s incredible. You must be so very, very proud.’

‘Yes, I am, thank you.’ I extricate myself from his gentle grip. ‘I hate to be rude,’ I say, brushing past him, ‘but I must go.’

‘Of course.’ He beams with fresh-faced innocence, the type I used to believe I saw in Kay. ‘I’m sure you have so many people to speak to. Everyone is talking about you.’

I bet they are.

I give him a loose wave as I head into the ballroom, my intentions set. I will find Hew and force him to marry Kay. Even that popinjay is better than Artur, with that sick gleam in his eye. I scan the room, which is a swirl of silks and wine, all jewel tones and false laughter. And though Hew is my target, my gaze falls on another instead.

‘Rose!’ Kyor’s face lights up as he says my name, raising his hand ever so slightly to catch my attention, as if my eyes were not drawn to him like a magnet. The sight of him causes a pain to claw through my body, but Thea and her bullshit pale in comparison to the storm Kay has unleashed inside me.

Kyor’s warm hand rests on my waist and he smiles at me for just a heartbeat before it disappears. ‘What is it? What’s wrong, Thorn?’

‘Hew. Fucking Hew. I need to speak to him. Now.’

The barest of sighs escapes his lips. ‘What has he done this time?’

‘Kyor,’ I snap. ‘Hew! Find him.’

‘Okay. I’ll grab him and we’ll meet you in the courtyard.’

As I stalk outside I realise that my green, plunging ballgown is hardly suitable for a meeting outdoors, yet whether it’s fury or the magic in my veins, the cold barely touches me. Hew will not get away with this. And I don’t care how mad at me Kay is. If she can face marrying a man like Artur, then she can marry a man she liked enough to fuck and ruin her life.

While Kyor strides into the courtyard, Hew skulks behind. The prince’s jaw is tight, anger thrumming from him. I think it’s safe to assume Hew told him about Kay’s pregnancy then.

Still, Kyor waits until they reach me and we have relative privacy before he whirls on Hew.

‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at?’ he demands.

Hew carries a glass of red wine, his lips already stained with it. I wonder how many drinks he’s had while he waited for my dramatic entrance.

‘Why are you so mad?’ Hew asks, looking genuinely perplexed.

‘What the fuck do you mean? Kay is Rose’s sister.’ Kyor gestures to me.

‘And?’ Hew frowns before his expression lightens and he laughs. ‘Oh, you’re joking? This is rich. You’re fucking the other sister?’ His laugh is enough to make me feel sick. ‘This is classic. I’m going to be honest, though. I think I got the hotter one.’

Kyor’s fists are clenched, and the static in the air is suddenly buzzing. If Hew doesn’t sober up fast, there’s a strong chance the prince will use his lightning on his childhood friend. Part of me wants to egg him on, but that won’t help Kay. I need Hew alive and unfried to marry her. To do the right thing.

I touch Kyor’s arm, silently asking for his patience.

‘You’ll marry Acacia,’ Kyor grinds out. ‘And acknowledge the baby.’

Hew laughs. ‘The fuck I will. My engagement is a political move, Ky. Your father’s the one who arranged it. He told me who I’ll marry, and I said, “Yes, Your Majesty,” because I like living. You can’t undo it any more than I can.’

‘What?’ Kyor looks genuinely surprised by this news. ‘How did I not know this?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe because you’ve been off waging wars on the Torailian and riding that wolf of yours like a pony.’

Yup, he’s definitely plastered. The Morathkians haven’t been at war with the Torailians for decades, and to refer to Elska as a pony? It’s hard to believe he’s still standing. The static in the air hitches a notch higher.

‘Korvane gifted me a year of freedom before the shackles of marriage,’ Hew continues, ‘and I’ve been enjoying my year thoroughly.’ He downs a hefty mouthful of wine before slapping Kyor on the arm. ‘Look, you can’t really be mad about the Kultavaris thing. I was just taking a leaf out of your playbook.’ With a slight laugh, he goes to take another gulp of wine, only to find the glass empty. His face crinkles in confusion. ‘Well, this needs rectifying immediately,’ he says, turning on his heel and walking back into the palace like he hasn’t just dashed every single hope I had.

Hew won’t marry Acacia. He won’t acknowledge the baby. I feel sick.

And what did he mean by Kyor’s playbook? A terrified part of me already knows he’s talking about Thea. About how getting her pregnant was enough to see her stripped of her powers and thrown out of the High Hold, his problem erased. But is Hew talking about me, too? Is making women fall for him only to ruin them Kyor’s idea of fun? It’s with panic that I recall his response to finding out I was on the dealun seed tonic. Was I wrong to assume the reaction was jealousy? Was it actually because I disrupted his plans to ruin me? Is Kyor no better than Hew?

He has to be. I need him to be. There has to be another explanation for all this.

‘Kyor,’ I whisper.

‘We’ll fix this,’ he promises rashly. ‘Somehow.’