“. . . running out of time.”
“Has it ever been on my side?” Grandeur muttered.
“No,” the first voice said, deep and cool. “But the plan you conceived is good.”
“I can’t force her,” Grandeur said defensively. “This isn’t a light thing I’m asking.”
“You said Miss Ellington would help of her own free will.”
Clare’s body locked, her ears straining to pick up every word.
“I still believe she will,” Grandeur said.
“What makes you confident this maid isn’t like the others?” the stranger asked.
“She’s not a friend to Serene. And her father was killed by my father’s order, which can’t sit well with her.”
“But—”
“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Grandeur cut in, a cool edge entering his tone.
Clare shivered, despite the sun warming her back. She didn’t dare move, not even to shift her feet. Grandeur and the stranger weren’t moving, but they were just around the bend. She should try to slip away, but the fear of being heard—along with a burning curiosity—kept her in place.
“Fair enough, Your Highness,” the man said. “But you understand my concern—our concern. You approached Clare Ellington weeks ago and she all but rejected you. Perhaps your sister has already won the girl’s allegiance.”
“No.”
“Then why did she resist your request to spy on the princess?”
“It was too soon,” Grandeur said, voice tightening. “I overwhelmed her.”
“There are other ways to secure allegiance. Perhaps a well-placed threat against her family. She has two young brothers living in the city.”
Clare’s breath hitched, her mouth running dry.
“No,” Grandeur said at once, finality ringing in his tone.
The stranger’s voice was thin. “If they were threatened, she would be yours completely.”
Clare’s hands fisted at her sides, blood roaring in her ears, nearly drowning out Grandeur’s sharp reply. “No. Threats never work as well as conviction. She will choose to help me because she’ll believe in me. I won’t use her family against her.”
“Unless there’s no other choice.”
A short silence stretched. Clare rolled back on her heels, prepared to bolt if their footsteps moved toward her. Finally, Grandeur spoke, and his voice was firm. “Yes.”
Clare’s stomach dropped.
The stranger spoke. “What is necessary is not always easy. Are you prepared for the choice you may have to make?”
Grandeur’s voice was soft, shooting ice through Clare’s veins and chilling her despite the afternoon sun. “Sacrifices are made in the name of peace every day. If my sister rises against me, she will become one of them.”
Clare spread her damp palms over her skirt, her heart jumping in her chest. She paced because she couldn’t sit, couldn’t focus on anything but what she was about to do.
The door to the sitting room opened Princess Serene swept inside, her dusky pink skirt brushing over the cheery carpet. It was the same room they’d shared that awful breakfast in, two months ago now.
The door closed, Cardon and Dirk remaining in the hall.
Serene eyed the low table as she stepped closer. “As surprised as I was to receive your invitation, I admit I did expect there to actually be tea.”
Clare shifted her slippered feet, her hands clenched before her. “I’m sorry. It was the only excuse I could think of.”
The princess’s eyes narrowed, catching the edge in Clare’s voice. “What’s happened?”
Stumbling a little over the words, Clare related all she’d overheard in the garden. Serene said nothing, only watched her.
“I don’t know if Grandeur is a true threat to my family,” she finished, a cramp tightening her belly. “But I can’t take that risk. He sounded so . . . cold. And the man he was with . . . I’m not sure who Grandeur has allied with, but that man is evil. I don’t know if Grandeur even realizes how dangerous he is.”
Serene hadn’t moved during the entire account. She stood still—poised, shoulders back, expression expertly smooth. “You’re worried about my brother.”
Clare’s forehead creased. Despite everything, Grandeur had been her friend, and that man he’d allied with was dangerous. Of course, Grandeur’s friendship could have been a lie. A manipulation.
She rubbed her brow. “Yes, I suppose I am worried about him.”
Serene lowered her chin. “You’re worried about him, yet you don’t trust him. Which is why you’re here.”
“I can’t risk my family,” Clare said again. She met the princess’s stare. “And I can’t let him plot your death.”
Serene lifted one eyebrow. “How kind of you.”
Clare nearly rolled her eyes. “Your brother is paranoid. He’s spoken to me about his fears that you are plotting to take the throne, or betray Devendra by running from your marriage to Desfan. If you could speak with him, assure him that—”
“If you truly thought he could be reasoned with,” Serene cut in, “you wouldn’t be here talking to me.”
Clare glanced away, but Serene was right. She didn’t trust Grandeur. She couldn’t. Not now.
And that hurt.
Serene sighed. “You don’t even like me, Clare. Why did you come to me?”
Clare eyed the princess, who was watching her closely. “Being at the castle, I’ve learned that everyone wears a mask. You pretend to be sharp, cold, and uncaring, but I saw the real you at the orphanage. When the bolts started flying, you grabbed a little boy and shielded him with your own body. It was your gut reaction, not something you did for show—not like the rest of that day could have been. Anyone can pretend to be something they’re not. I’m proof of that. But it’s who you are when you think no one is watching that reveals your true character.”
Serene said nothing for a moment. Then, “That was surprisingly profound for a kitchen maid.”
Clare huffed a short laugh and shook her head. “I knew the moment I overheard Grandeur that I would have to make a choice between him and you.” Even if it caused a pang in her chest.
Serene began to pace slowly over the bright rug, her voice carefully low. “There are things you don’t know about my brother or my father. If I wear a mask, it’s because
