Theo knew what kind of night it would be the second the door slammed open. Meg marched into the room, her cheeks flushed and her hair tangled, only further confirming what had delayed Galen after he arrived back in the palace. The man himself walked through the door after her, his shirt untucked and all expression wiped from him face.

Most of the nobles thought Galen was one step off a robot at best, and a broody son of a bitch at worst. Those assumptions couldn’t be further from the truth. Galen simply had better control than most other people. The fact he’d bothered to layer in his control meant he was keeping something bottled up that would bite them all in the ass if left to fester. Galen shut the door and threw the lock. “Meg.”

“No. Orgasm or not, I’m still pissed at you—at both of you.” She barely looked at Theo as she headed into the main bedroom and kept going. “I’m taking a shower. You have ten minutes to figure out if you’re going to keep pulling this macho bullshit where you don’t tell me what the hell is going on or if you’re going to pull your heads out of your asses.” She opened the bathroom door and glared at them over her shoulder. “Here’s a hint—there’s only one right answer.” She disappeared and shut the door softly behind her.

Theo glanced at Galen. “Which of the sitting rooms did you despoil this time?”

“Fuck off.” When Theo just stared, he growled. “The one with the horse-loving great-grandmother.”

“Ah, Bernice Fitzcharles. From all accounts, she was one of the more difficult queens.”

If anything, Galen’s gaze flattened. “The history lesson is not required.” He tossed his balled-up shirt in the general direction of the trash. “The Families will be here in two days.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. You didn’t give me a goddamn choice in any of this.” He glanced at the closed bathroom door, behind which they could hear the shower running. Given Meg’s predilection for eavesdropping, Theo didn’t argue when Galen moved back into the sitting room and lowered his voice. “Huxley showed his hand. He wants his daughter in Meg’s place.”

Theo blinked. “He wants Noemi to be our third?”

“He seems to think that the Huxley bloodline will smooth away a lot of the negative reactions to how unconventional our arrangement is.”

Huxley wasn’t wrong in this case. The Families were nothing if not consistent, and they wanted their interests seen to. Having one of them in close proximity to the throne would calm feathers ruffled by so many foreigners attached to Theo.

Fuck. He should have seen that as a possibility sooner.

Theo dropped into one of the chairs and ran his hands through his hair. “Does he honestly think that throwing Meg down a set of stairs is going to be enough to drive us into yanking the first available woman into bed with us as a replacement?”

“Considering how often he fucks around on his wife, yeah, I think that’s exactly what he believes.”

He cursed. They’d known something was going on and Meg was the target, but this? This was fucked up beyond all reason. Huxley might believe that they would just replace Meg with a little time and motivation, but Dorian was too smart for that. He knew better. The questions remained: were they working together? Or was Huxley simply looking to capitalize on the attack after it happened?

Realization washed over him, leaving a cold that wormed its way right down to his center. “She’s been spending significant time with Noemi all week.”

“Yeah, apparently she has. Something you forgot to fucking mention when we talked while I was gone.” Now Galen let the anger burn through. He shoved himself into motion, pacing the sitting room in a handful of furious strides. “We can tell her to avoid Noemi.”

Theo snorted. “Good luck trying to get that to stick.”

“Or, here’s a novel idea.” Meg stepped through the doorway, her hair wet and wrapped in a towel. “You could just stop whispering about it and talk to me like I’m an equal member of this triad.”

Shit. He should have seen that coming a mile away. Theo pushed to his feet. “Princess—”

“No. Now is not the time for pet names and pacifying me. You of all people should know that.” She looked from him to Galen and back again. “You’re treating me like a child.”

“You’re acting like a brat,” Galen fired back. “We know the ins and outs of this shit better than you ever will. Can’t you just throw us a fucking bone and trust us for once instead of questioning everything to death?”

For fuck’s sake. Theo started to turn to tell his friend to stand down, but Meg was there, getting in Galen’s face. “Trust goes both ways, baby. You can’t package me up in bubble wrap to keep me safe.”

“No, but I sure as shit can ship your ass back to New York.”

“That is quite enough.” Theo stepped between them and used his shoulders to muscle them away from each other. “You.” He pointed at Galen. “Walk it off. Shower or run or find a drink, but don’t come back here until you can be helpful and stop swinging your dick around.”

Galen stared at him a long moment, his expression reflecting the same toxic mix of emotions bubbling up inside Theo. Fear. Anger. The need to smash their enemies to pieces. And then, just like that, he blinked and it was gone. “Sure, Theo. I’ll go. But if you don’t have a solution by the time I get back, then I sure as fuck am going to do what’s necessary.”

Child’s play to read between the lines. I’ll take out Dorian.

It wouldn’t help. Their enemies’ plans were too far along now, and too widespread. Neither Dorian nor Huxley had shoved Meg down the stairs. “Go.”

“Consider me gone.” He stalked to the door and slammed out of it.

Theo finally turned his attention to Meg. “That was shitty of you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You know how he operates, and you know that his first instinct is to protect. It’s driving him crazy that he wasn’t there to stop what happened to you, and driving the bone in his throat deeper was shitty of you.”

Meg drew her brows together and poked his shoulder. “I’m sorry, did you get shoved down some stairs? How is it my responsibility to tiptoe around Galen’s emotional shit?”

He rounded on her. “The same way it’s our responsibility to tiptoe around your emotional shit, princess. You think I don’t know how crazy it makes you living in the palace? That it eats away at you thinking that you think you depend on me for your safety and the shit you own. That you believe your independence is gone.”

“Because it is!”

“Fuck that.”

She shoved her hands through her hair and then winced when the move seemed to pull at her injured shoulder. “I guess I missed the part where I did a single thing to earn this life except ride your dick like a champ.”

God save him from the two stubborn ass loves of his life. “You’re titled.”

“Excuse me.”

“It came with being Consort. You have your own home in the southern providence. It actually borders Galen’s lands, but that was just a happy coincidence. You’ve been bringing in an income this entire time.”

She looked at him like she might strangle him on the spot. “That’s not mine.”

“Actually—”

“It’s not mine, Theo. It’s something you can take away, and so it’s not mine. I get that you don’t understand that, but at least try to pretend that you aren’t going to keep putting money away in my account like I’m some kind of paid mistress.”

His patience bottomed out. “You’re not a mistress, Meg. You are Consort to the King of Thalania. Time to stop acting like it’s a fucking temporary position.” How could the two people he loved most in this world be so goddamn infuriating?

Theo had spent his life preparing for the stress to run a country and have the lives of millions depending on him, at least in part. All it took was a single conversation with Meg and Galen to have him yelling his fool head off.

“That’s enough of that.” He turned away from her and stalked into their room to the phone on the wall.

“That’s enough of that? Do you even listen to yourself when you talk, Theo? I’m not one of your subjects. You can’t just decide to be done with a conversation because you’re tired of it.”

He knew that. Of course he knew that. But this conversation, while valid, wasn’t really about Meg’s issues with leaning on anyone as much as it was about their mutual fear about what might happen in the future. The enemy was at the gates, and despite everything, they’d been caught flat-footed.

But they couldn’t take a step back and focus until they lanced this particular wound. Something impossible to do in the palace with the constant reminder of both the threat and their new respective positions. “We’re not done with the conversation, but we aren’t going to continue it here.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Theo grabbed the phone and dialed Isaac’s extension. Unsurprisingly, the man was still awake. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

It didn’t matter how many times Theo told him to use his first name, Isaac refused to do it. He bit back a sigh and ignored Meg staring daggers into the side of his head. “I need transportation set up for myself and the Consorts. Something subtle. We’re taking an overnight trip. Assign as many men as you see fit, as long as they’re discreet.”

“Where are you headed?”

“Greece.”

“Ah.” He barely hesitated for a moment. “I’ll have the chopper ready to go inside of an hour. Please wait in your rooms until I come for you.”

Considering he’d probably just given the giant of a man a heart attack, waiting to be fetched was the least Theo could do. “Of course. We’ll be packed and ready.” He hung up and turned to face Meg. She opened her mouth, but he got there first. “You can yell at me for the next few hours once we get on the transport.”

“You can’t just decide to leave like that.”

Being in love with a cranky bastard like Galen had given Theo a lifetime of patience when dealing with a snarling significant other, but he still wanted to toss Meg over his shoulder and haul her ass to the helicopter to avoid continuing this argument. He gave her a long look, and she skittered back a step as if she could read his mind. “Don’t you dare.”

“You’re right. We need to discuss the developments of the last few days, and we can’t do it here.” They couldn’t do anything here in the palace. Not while the full list of their enemies remained shrouded in mystery. Not when everywhere Meg looked, she saw a reminder of what she perceived as their inequality. He’d suspected it grated on her, but he’d underestimated the strength of that irritation. No, better to go back to the last place all three of them had stood on equal footing and decide their path forward.

Together.

She opened her mouth, seemed to reconsider, and shut it. “You said Greece. You mean Galen’s place?”

“Yes.”

Finally, she nodded. “I’ll pack.”

“It’s just overnight, princess. It’s all I can promise.” It would have to be enough. If they could just get through this…

There would be another crisis on the other side.

There would always be another crisis. Another issue. Another shit storm they had to buckle down and ride through.

If he was simply a noble, he could all but guarantee years of smooth sailing and relatively peaceful happiness. But Theo wasn’t simply a noble. He was the fucking King of Thalania, and there would never be anything simple about his life.

Six months ago, both Galen and Meg had claimed to understand and work through the future together. Now, he wasn’t sure when they’d been in more danger of drifting apart. No, drifting was too tame a word. Torn, shredded, cut to pieces.

If they couldn’t find common ground in Greece, Theo didn’t know that there was anything left for them to stand on.

Dorian stormed into his home and tossed his phone, sending it skittering over the marble countertops of the kitchen. “That fool!”

Anne barely looked up from her computer. “What did Huxley do this time?” It was a testament to their haphazard movement forward with the idiot Head of Huxley Family that she didn’t feel the need to question who’d given him such a rage.

“He saw fit to inform our son that his whore of a daughter would happily jump into the bed vacated by Meg Sanders without the slightest hesitation.”

Anne finally turned away from her computer and gave him her full attention. “It’s a mistake to underestimate Noemi Huxley, Dorian. You may be able to dupe her father, but she’s cut from a different cloth.”

“That remains to be seen.” She was ambitious—all nobles were ambitious—but she was too busy dallying with the help to strive for the kind of greatness a woman with her charm, looks, and intelligence could achieve. He couldn’t have cast her better if he’d conjured her up himself.

All of it would be for naught if Galen rooted out their plan before it reached fruition. “Something needs to be done.”

“Something was done.” She picked up her wine glass and considered the merlot. “Ultimately nothing changes. Theodore already had his suspicions we were involved or he wouldn’t have made a special trip out here just to subtly threaten you. We expected and planned for that eventuality.”

Yes, they had. It didn’t make this easier to stomach. “Huxley—”

“Has his own part to play. You knew this was a risk when you invited him to sit at the table.”

He had. Of course he had. Dorian closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I don’t deserve you, my love.”

“On that, I think we can both agree.”

He laughed softly and gave himself a little shake. This was a minor setback, but ultimately all it did was change the timeline a bit. They were prepared. They’d been prepared since Theodore was exiled in the first place, knowing that their steps would lead them here. There was always the slightest possibility that the palace coup orchestrated by Philip Fitzcharles would work, but Dorian knew all too well how thoroughly Theodore’s father had trained him. He wouldn’t give up without a fight then, and he wouldn’t now, either.

They simply had to give him an enemy to vanquish, a love to mourn, and then sweep in with their chosen candidate to reap the rewards.

Then, finally, they could stop circling on the fringes and step into the light where they belonged, their boots on the necks of their enemies and no one rising up to endanger them ever again.

Not a second too soon.