Theo walked into the sitting room with Galen on one arm and Meg on the other. The former glowered at everyone in his impeccable tux, and the latter was resplendent in the violet gown he’d commissioned for her. With the expert makeup job she’d done, even he couldn’t pick up traces of her bruise, and she carried herself as if floating on the ground. A trick she’d mastered somewhere along the way while he wasn’t paying attention.

He wouldn’t be so lax in the future. He’d missed things. Important things.

The invitation he’d sent Galen to deliver specified that the Head of Family was invited, as well as their heir. Theo let his attention drift around the large room and the people who’d gathered at his summons. Lady Nibley appeared to be sleeping, but she startled awake as he guided Meg into a chair near the fireplace. Lady Vann tried to subtly check out Meg’s face, no doubt having heard the rumors of her injury, but when she caught Theo watching her, she turned her attention to her wine glass. The most notable addition to the room was none other than Noemi Huxley, sitting in a large chair on the other side of the fireplace, her cousin Wendy at standing at attention at her side. She’d formally filed the paperwork to be recognized as Head of Huxley a few hours ago, and the former Lord Huxley now occupied a space in a cell a few floors down where Kozlov no doubt had someone interviewing him.

Being part of an attack on the Consort was nothing less than treason, and the charges would be handled as such.

It was too much to hope that he could name everyone else involved in the process, but they hadn’t been lucky up to this point. They were due a turn in their favor.

He couldn’t afford to count on them getting it, though.

Theo nodded at Noemi and he and Galen took up positions on either side of Meg’s chair. Custom dictated Theo was supposed to sit and his Consorts stand behind him, but with all the political players in the room, he felt better being on his feet and able to see the entirety of the room—including Meg. “Thank you for attending tonight.”

Lady Nibley harrumphed. “Didn’t give us much choice, did you?” She turned to Meg and leaned forward, peering up at her from beneath impressive gray brows. “You look well enough. Good for you. Don’t let something as petty as assassins get you down.”

“Grandmother,” her heir hissed. “Show some respect.”

“I’m ninety years old, pup. I don’t have time to waste in the political dancing around.” She met Theo’s gaze. “You want to find the responsible parties. The Nibley Family will lend you any assistance you need to ensure that the traitors are found and brought to justice.” A lengthy pause. “Assuming your word is good to bring my grandson back into the fold, of course.”

“Of course.” He’d known that was coming. No helping hand was offered without strings attached, Noemi and Lady Nibley included. Since Theo had already decided that neither woman was likely to be involved in the attempt on Meg’s life, he was inclined to meet their demands. This world was all about give and take, and their current situation was no different.

Lord Bakaj toyed with the stem of his wine glass, watching them with dark eyes. “We heard you had some trouble.”

“Nothing we couldn’t sort out,” Theo responded easily. He looked around the room. All eyes had been on him—on all three of them—the second they walked through the door, but it was still a vital part of the dance to posture a little and wait for them to acknowledge he had their full attention. “The reason I requested your presence tonight is to formally recognize Noemi Huxley as the new Head of Family Huxley.” New Head of Families were always welcomed officially by both the reigning monarch and the other six Head of Families.

All heads turned in Noemi’s direction, and she inclined her head, as regal as a queen. If Theo hadn’t considered her a friend for a good portion of his life, he might have missed the faint shadows lurking in her eyes. This might be a realization of her life’s ambition, but it hadn’t come without cost. He just hoped it was worth it.

“The formal acknowledgement will happen in the throne room after drinks.” He forced a charming smile, knowing it looked natural even as it felt like it stretched his face like half-melted wax. There wasn’t much to smile about at the moment, not with danger lurking so close. “Lords and ladies, please partake of my table and enjoy yourselves.” Customary words to go with a customary situation.

Except there was nothing customary about this.

He didn’t trust himself to touch Meg, to reassure all of them that this was only pretend and enacting the plan they’d all put into place the day before. Appearances were everything, and they all had their roles to play.

With that in mind, he drifted toward Noemi. She looked particularly stunning tonight, dressed in a red couture gown that outshone nearly everyone in the room. Not Meg. Not Galen. But then, he was hardly an impartial party. Noemi saw him coming and gave him a bright smile. “Your Majesty.”

“Come now, you know better than that. Theo. Always Theo.” He took her offered hand and pressed a perfectly polite kiss to her knuckles. Theo forced his thumb to play over them before he released her. A tiny touch that would have gone unnoticed and unremarked upon if the room was occupied with any other group of people. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” Ever the politician, she kept her smile firmly in place, but her blue eyes flicked to Meg and back to him. “How is the Consort doing?”

“Galen’s perfectly fine.”

A tiny line appeared between her brows. “That’s not the Consort I meant.”

“Mmm.” Every word dragged its claws through him, a betrayal that was only for show, but still felt so fucking wrong. It didn’t matter how unnatural this was, that he would never ever pull a play like this normally, that Meg and Galen knew the truth. He wanted to call the whole thing off.

Impossible.

To back away now was to miss the chance to out their enemies, to put a stop to this insidious treason once and for all.

Theo raked his gaze over Noemi. “You look stunning tonight.”

“Thank you.” She shifted closer and lowered her voice. “I don’t know what game you’re playing at, but I want no part of it.”

He reached up and tucked a stray strand of blond hair behind her ear. “Too late.”

Heels clicking behind him might as well have been drums pounding out a call to battle. Noemi’s eyes went wide and she stumbled back a step, and then Meg was there, gorgeous in her fury. “What the fuck is going on here, Theo?”

“Nothing,” he replied smoothly. “I was just congratulating Noemi on her new position.”

“Really? Because it sure as fuck looks like you’re planning on doing a lot more than congratulating her.”

Noemi held up her hands. “Consort, I can explain—”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Meg made a slashing motion and turned on him, hazel eyes blazing. “I put up with so much, Theo. So. Fucking. Much. And this is how you repay me?” She shook her head, looking sick to her stomach. “No. Hell no. I didn’t sign up for this—for any of it. I’m out.”

It took everything he had not to reach for her. Theo affected a bored look. “That’s your call, Consort. No one is forcing you to stay.”

“Yeah, I got that. Loud and clear.” Her bottom lip quivered and she spun on her heel. Every eye in the room watched her disappear out the door, slamming it behind her hard enough to shake the walls.

Noemi made a move to go after her, but he caught her arm. “No.”

“No? Are you out of your goddamn mind? She’s your Consort,” Noemi hissed, so low there was no way the words would carry. “You let her believe a lie.”

He matched her volume and lowered his head, giving the impression of an intimate conversation. “Leave it alone, Noemi. I have it under control.”

Understanding dawned and her lips parted in shock. “You… I’m going to kick your ass to Istanbul and back when this is all over.”

“When this is over, you’ll have permission.” He glanced over his shoulder to find Galen lounging in the chair Meg had abandoned. He’d poured himself a tumbler of bourbon and stared idly into the fire as if he wasn’t fighting against the same need to chase down Meg now coursing through Theo’s blood.

Lord Bakaj sent the door a significant look. “Do you need a moment?”

No going back now.

He smiled. “Not at all. Shall we move on to the throne room?”

Meg couldn’t draw a full breath. She marched down the halls, not sure if anyone was watching her, but not willing to let her facade of anger wilt just in case. And, if she was perfectly honest, she was angry.

Theo and Noemi simply weren’t the source.

How dare they make us jump through these hoops? We should be ironing out our life behind the scenes and moving forward into the future I can actually see, but instead we’re playing games hoping to tempt someone into trying to murder me again.

Isaac Kozlov had an entire team of people watching her every move right now. There were cameras in most halls and rooms in the palace, so as long as she stayed out of the Families’ wing, everything should be fine. Even if somehow she ended up there—not a choice she’d make lightly—they would know where she’d gone and react accordingly.

She just had to…

Footsteps echoed through the halls, mirroring her. Meg stopped short, but the sound didn’t cease. She turned to find Alys hurrying toward her, trusty tablet in hand. The woman looked as exhausted as Meg felt, circles creating dark smudges beneath her eyes and her hair rumpled, rather than in its customary sleek ponytail. Even her clothes were slightly out of whack, her skirt wrinkled and her shirt buttoned up incorrectly.

Meg couldn’t help wondering how much of her going MIA had to do with Alys unraveling before her eyes. The woman had her schedule and her routine, and Meg had blown it all to hell half a dozen times in the last week. It was no wonder she looked like a woman teetering on the edge.

Alys bobbed a little bow when she got close. “Consort.”

“What can I do for you, Alys?”

“You shouldn’t be out in the hallways alone, Consort. With the attacker still at large, it’s important that you’re with someone at all times.”

She opened her mouth to inform Alys that she was fine, but Meg hesitated. “I’m just heading to get some coffee and then back to our private suites. The king and I had words, and I won’t be attending the ceremony for Lady Huxley.”

Now it was Alys’s turn to hesitate. She clutched her tablet to her chest. “Is everything okay?”

Telling the truth wasn’t an option. Theo had only brought in the select few people he trusted beyond a shadow of a doubt, and Alys didn’t number among them. Meg liked the woman well enough, but that didn’t mean anything in grand scheme of things.

She gave a shrug. “I don’t know. I think he’s going to replace me.”

Did she imagine the sharpening interest in Alys’s eyes?

She couldn’t be sure.

The woman reached out and gave Meg’s shoulder an awkward pat. “I’m sorry. He’s always been changeable. You couldn’t have known it wouldn’t last.” The movement dislodged her locket, and the silver necklace tumbled to the ground. “Oh, dear, the clasp has broken.”

“I’ve got it.” It was the least she could do. Meg bent over and scooped it up. The second her hand closed around the locket, she flinched. “Ouch. I think it might be broken. It pinched me.”

“I’ve been meaning to get it fixed.” Alys took the necklace back and slipped it into her pocket. “Thank you, Consort.”

A wave of dizziness rolled through Meg. She swayed on her feet and pressed a hand to her forehead. “I… What?” Focus. You have to focus. But someone had switched out the solid floor beneath her feet for a ship on stormy seas. She reached for the wall to steady herself, and nearly fell when it was farther away than anticipated.

“Consort?”

“I’m fine.” She most definitely wasn’t fine. Another wave rolled through her, strong enough to make black dots dance across her vision. Oh god, I’m going to pass out.

“Consort?” And then Alys was there, slipping beneath her arm and hoisting her away from the wall. For such a small woman, she held surprising strength.

Meg tried to move with her, to stay on her feet, but she lost her heels within seconds and then faced the impossible task of navigating her gown. “Get Galen.”

“I’m sorry, Consort. I truly am.” Before she could process that, Alys turned them toward the private suites. “We’ll get you shaped up in no time.”

Had she misread the regret in the other woman’s voice? She didn’t think so but… Nothing made sense right now. Meg tried to dig in her heels, to slow their forward motion, but the move made her palm twinge.

The same spot where the locket pinched her.

“You…” It took her three tries to put her words in some semblance of order. “You drugged me.”

“A necessary evil, I’m afraid.”

Meg tried to look up at the cameras stationed along the ceiling, but she couldn’t do more than loll her head. “Help.” The word emerged as a rasp, barely above a whisper.

“It won’t make a difference. Right now, there’s is a car crashing through the front gates of the palace and the security team is so distracted with that, they won’t have noticed that the camera feed glitched the tiniest bit before starting a loop.” Gone was the hesitant woman who hid behind her tablet and other people’s schedules. The Alys holding her upright was as cold and impenetrable as an ice wall. A stranger.

An enemy.

Meg lot her ability to speak. Time fluctuated in time with her frantically beating heart, compressing when she most needed it to expand. Between one blink and the next, they’d left the halls of the palace behind and approached a set of doors Meg had never seen before.

Alys shouldered through, dragging Meg behind her. It spit them out into a secondary hall, which led to a loading dock. Meg let her weight go completely limp, though she couldn’t say for certain if she’d done it intentionally or if the drug had finally taken her strength to walk along with her voice to cry for help.

If she thought that would slow Alys down, she was sorely mistaken. The woman barely paused long enough to haul her into a fireman’s carry and then she kept going, hurrying to a car that had pulled up just out of the reach of the lights in the area.

One of the back doors opened and a large man emerged. For one breathless moment, relief nearly made Meg sick to her stomach.

Galen came. He’s here. I’m safe.

But then the details hit her. His three-piece suit that he wore like a second skin. His jaw too refined. Silver at his temples.

Not Galen.

“Good evening, Consort.” He smiled as Alys dumped her at his feet. “Allow me to introduce myself.” He crouched down until he was at the same level where Meg sat, swaying place. “I’m Dorian Mikos, and I think you’ll find we have a significant amount of things to discuss.”