“Did someone say there was a party?” Dean asked with a self-indulgent smile on his face.

Cyrene was frozen. Completely immobilized.

This could not be happening.

This is impossible.

Dean had dumped her and walked away.

She had spent all of this time trying to forget him. To forget the diamond engagement ring that he had slid on her finger or the feel of his body on top of her as they’d made love or the way one smile could lighten her very soul.

She remembered the way the tangy scent of the sea seemed to cling to him. The light in his eyes the first time they’d met and how she had scolded him for killing a deer. The feel of his fingers through her hair. Every little defense he’d made for her against his family. And innumerable other instances when he had set her on fire.

Now, he was here. In Byern, of all places.

What is he doing here?

What did he want?

Her first thought was that she needed to get him out of here. She took two hasty steps forward and then stopped. No, she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t acknowledge him. People would know. It would complicate things.

Creator! What am I supposed to do?

Her heart raced as she swung around to find Edric striding toward Dean. She chewed on her bottom lip, knowing she had to make a decision. Either she fled the ballroom now before anyone could put two and two together or she faced Dean like the consort she was…and gave him the greeting he deserved.

One heartbeat.

Two.

She cursed violently, took a deep breath, and then forced herself into a role she was not looking forward to playing. She plastered on a soft smile and moved through the crowd to the front of the room.

Edric beat her there by only a few seconds. He looked disturbed to find Dean standing before him.

“What do we have here?” Cyrene asked. Her chin was held high, and she dared not show an ounce of recognition.

“An emissary from Eleysia,” Edric said tightly. “Why the prince is here though, I have not gotten that answer.”

Dean raised an eyebrow and cocked a smile. “In my country, we entertain our guests before interrogating them.”

No, you don’t.

“Well, we’re not in Eleysia,” Edric spat. “And we’re not on good terms as it is.”

“I don’t wish to speak of the unpleasantness of my parents’ deaths. Come,” Dean said, maneuvering Edric away from the door, “let’s have a drink and dance. Tomorrow, we will discuss the diplomatic measures my sister has sent me for.”

Edric grumbled in frustration. “So, she accepts the offer?”

“Tomorrow,” Dean said with an easy smile.

He hadn’t once looked at Cyrene, and she was grateful. She didn’t know what one look would betray.

It was clear Edric did not want to wait another day, but he was a good host. Dean was royal after all. Not some subordinate messenger that Queen Brigette had sent. Respect was due between the men.

“Of course,” Edric said finally. “Allow me to introduce you to my consort, Cyrene.”

Cyrene saw a muscle twitch in Dean’s jaw before he finally flicked his brown eyes toward her. Her heart constricted, and a thousand emotions churned through her all at once. First and foremost was anger, but others competed for the crown—pain, heartache, love, betrayal, lust, hope.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Dean said, taking her hand and placing a kiss on it.

She didn’t trust herself to speak. She just nodded and then removed her hand from his.

“Come. I will introduce you to my wife as well,” Edric said.

He curiously glanced at Cyrene and then offered her his arm. She took it without looking at Dean once and then walked with him toward Kaliana.

“What is your read on him?” Edric whispered into her ear.

“Foolish,” she said and meant it.

“Indeed.”

He has no idea.

Edric introduced Dean to Kaliana, but Cyrene heard none of their conversation. She only saw exactly what he was portraying to everyone. An engaging party boy, who drank deeply and flirted shamelessly with Kaliana, who brightened like a blooming rose from the attention. Whatever the reason that Dean was here…it was about more than her.

Perhaps he didn’t even want to see her.

Perhaps he didn’t even care.

She swallowed hard at that thought.

All this time, trying not to think about him and move on with her life, and then he was just here. Invading her space and…ignoring her!

And he knew she couldn’t do a damn thing about it if she didn’t want to reveal her relationship to the king…which she didn’t.

But it wasn’t Edric she was worried about. There was one person in this entire court who knew exactly who Prince Dean Ellison of Eleysia was…and what he had meant to Cyrene. And he was dancing with her sister.

Kael hadn’t looked up at her or Dean since he took Elea’s hand. Her sister looked entranced by her dance partner, and Cyrene knew it had been the right move to offer this dance as a truce. But she was not looking forward to when it would be over, and Kael would notice that Dean was here. She didn’t know what he would do or what their entire bargain had been.

As the song was drawing near the end, she moved to the edge of the dancers. She wanted to claim Kael’s next dance before he could do anything stupid. Dean was occupied with Kaliana. Surely, he wouldn’t even notice—

“Consort.” Dean’s crisp voice cut through Cyrene’s concentration.

She turned back to him, trying to mask her horror.

“Would you do me the honor of the next dance?”

Cyrene opened her mouth and then closed it. She could see Kaliana’s pinched face in her periphery. At another time in her life, Kaliana’s irritation would have been enough for Cyrene to jump into Dean’s arms.

“The next one was already requested by Prince Kael,” she said deftly.

Flames ignited in Dean’s eyes at her words.

“Nonsense,” Edric said. “Prince Dean is our guest.”

Anything to keep her from Kael. Though, Edric never did recognize the real threats.

“Of course,” she said, trying to appear demure. Instead of like a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Dean offered her his arm, and with noticeable hesitation, she placed her hand on his sleeve. He escorted her out onto the dance floor just as Kael passed them. Kael’s head whipped around at the intrusion. He took one menacing step toward Dean with his teeth bared before realizing exactly where they were. Then, his royal mask snapped back into place. His expression said everything. If he had his way, he would kill Dean by the end of the night.

As soon as the music started up, Cyrene snapped at Dean, “What in the Creator’s name are you doing here? You dropped me on that boat. You do not get to come to my home at your whim. You should take this dance and then leave.”

Dean didn’t respond at first. He took her hand in his, placed his other hand on her waist, and tugged her closer. Then, he swung them into the waltz step.

“I’m here to get you out,” he said under his breath. “We received your message. Others are waiting on the outside. I made a mistake, Cyrene. I will never make it again.”

“A mistake?” she snarled. “A mistake!”

She knew she sounded hysterical. How could he think what he did to me could be dismissed so easily?

His eyes were pained and honest. Eyes she had trusted and now could hardly look into. “I said I would always find you. Here I am, trying to right that wrong.”

“I don’t want to hear it. Tell me the plan, and never speak of this to me again.”

Dean was about to answer her question when a roar from the other side of the room silenced the chatter, the musicians, and all the dancers. Dean and Cyrene whipped their heads toward the noise and found Edric charging toward them. He had his sword in his hand and was pointing it directly at Dean’s chest.

“You,” Edric spat.

“Your Majesty,” Dean said with a rueful smile.

“You dare come into my kingdom, my castle, and lay hands on her after what you did.” Edric looked maniacal, like he had that day when he ordered Daufina’s execution.

“Oh no,” Cyrene whispered.

Dean stood tall and broad. He was at least an inch taller than Edric and seemed to fill up the space when confronted. He must have been expecting it.

“What offense do you speak of?” Dean asked.

Edric couldn’t say what he wanted to say. She could see him sputtering to find the words to say that she had been sullied by him. Virginity wasn’t a prize in marriage, as it was in some of the northern countries, like Kell and Mastira, but it was never appropriate to speak of.

“You courted her,” Edric spat.

The crowd tittered at the revelation.

“That is a crime?” Dean asked.

“You assisted in her kidnap, knowing full well that we desired her safe return, and held her in Eleysia for months without notifying the kingdom. You are a liar and a scoundrel. And I formally challenge your honor.”

“No!” Cyrene cried, jumping between the two men.

“I accept,” Dean said with glee.

“Stop it, both of you!”

“Clear the ballroom ten paces,” Edric said.

“This is absurd. Please, you cannot do this.”

“It is a matter of honor, Cyrene,” Edric told her. “And he has none.”

“We’ll see,” Dean said. He strode several paces away from her and withdrew his sword as the room was cleared for a duel.

But Cyrene didn’t move. She stood in the middle, between men she had thought she loved. The men who would now fight to the death.

Her hand was over her heart, her mouth open. This was not about honor. This was about her. About who could win her over.

She was not a prize. No duel would ever change that.

And where is Kael Dremylon in all of this?

Smirking like a fool across the room.

She stalked toward him. Her anger was a lit fuse, ready to burst at any moment.

“What have you done?” she demanded.

“Careful, Cyrene,” Kael said. “You do not want to get in the middle of this.”

“Why did you tell Edric? You are going to get your brother killed!”

“I didn’t tell him anything.”

“Liar!”

He arched an eyebrow. “You think it wasn’t obvious the moment he pulled you away from Edric? He knew. He didn’t even need my confirmation.”

“Though you gave it, I’m sure.”

“Now, do you think I’m the kind of person who would like to see you suffer?” His hand reached for hers.

She yanked it away. “Perhaps you enjoy suffering. You could stop this, yet you are doing nothing.”

“Nothing can stop this. It was inevitable.”

“Well, I am not going to stand on the sidelines and watch.”

Kael grabbed her hand. “You are the consort. For the time being, that is exactly what you will do.”

“Do not test me, Kael.”

“That is all I plan to do.” He leaned forward and brushed his mouth against her ear. “If you want to stop them from going through with this, do it. Coerce them.”

She jolted back. “I’m not going to do that.”

“Then, you will play the victim. Again.”

Cyrene glared at him—more because he was right than he was wrong. She wanted him to be wrong. But both Edric and Dean were hotheaded. Both trained warriors. Both infatuated with her.

If she wanted to stop them, then she had to make it happen. But mental coercion felt…wrong. On so many levels.

“Have you done it to me?” she asked.

“Once since the docks.”

“And when was that?”

“When you were starving, filthy, and spent on my ship, and all you wanted to do was argue with me. I needed to take care of you first, and you wouldn’t let me. You were so beaten by that prison,” he said softly.

Cyrene tensed at his words. She hated thinking about that prison and the shell of a person she had been when she got out of it.

“I would do anything to be the man ripping out Dean’s throat for hurting you. No one should ever make you feel like less than you are.”

Cyrene swallowed and closed her eyes as Dean and Edric turned to face one another, swords out. She had seen the way Dean fought. She knew Edric was trained, but she didn’t know his skill. She wanted neither of them dead—particularly because she had just done something utterly horrible to save Edric’s life.

Slipping into Edric’s mind was like burying her feet in soil—grounded and teeming with possibility. Her powers released with a sigh, as if she had been made to do this. She sifted through memories, getting a sense of exactly who Edric was—proud, fair, erratic. There was something almost wrong with the way his mind was working. She couldn’t exactly place it.

The crowd gasped, and she opened her eyes, losing that grasp on his mind. This was not the time to be learning a new skill.

“Help me,” she begged of Kael.

“You can do this. Tell them to stop, if that is what you truly desire.”

She ground her teeth and blindly reached back. This time, she sank into Dean’s mind. It was like dipping her hand in cool water—effortless and refreshing. The water called to him. Though he had a soldier’s mind, his thoughts were like reading poetry. Refined, flowing, and charismatic, but with a precision she couldn’t possibly explain. Order and disorder, all in one.

The men circled each other as she went to work, trying to find a way to tell them to stop. Yelling it into their mind did nothing. This seemed more intricate work than brute force. And brute force was always her specialty.

Swords clanged. Teeth bared. Choreographed footwork maneuvered in circles. Dean struck quick and true, slicing across Edric’s arm. Edric growled and retaliated, reaching for Dean’s exposed shoulder. He nicked him, but Dean danced out of the way. The next attack from Dean showed how much he had loosened up. He was exquisite. Cyrene had seen him fight for his captain’s position back in Eleysia. Fierce and deadly. In fact, now that she looked more closely, it appeared that Dean was toying with Edric. He could have ended it at anytime.

“He’s messing with Edric,” Cyrene whispered.

“You’ve just noticed? Your captain appears to have been practicing since we last fought,” Kael said with a bite in his voice.

She reached out for Dean one last time to try to will him to stop this. She read the shift in his intentions at the precise moment he decided to go for the killing blow.

“No!” Cyrene reached her hand and commanded him to stop.

And he did.

It was like trying to stop a galloping horse with her bare hand, but she did it.

“Very good,” Kael said.

What was not so good was that she couldn’t possibly hold Edric at the same time. He charged Dean and opened a long gash through his arm. The pain lashed through Dean, and she released him with a gasp.

She held her own arm, as if Edric had sliced through it, but there was no blood. Only remnants of the pain Dean felt.

“Aren’t you going to do more?” Kael taunted.

But she could do no more.

Within seconds, Dean batted Edric’s sword from his hand and knocked him to the ground. Dean stood over him, the clear victor, as he held his sword to Edric’s throat.