“See what you can learn from the Biron boy,” my father said. Then he eyed me up and down. “Use whatever tools you have at your disposal.”

“But–”

“Your virtue no longer holds any value, Pénélope. Only do make certain that whatever information you gain for it is worth the cost – he’s a twisted creature, but he’s favored by the heir, and that means he has options. His interest won’t last.”

I scowled, but my father only waved a hand, dismissing me from the conversation. Before I could go, my grandmother caught hold of my arm. “Your word that you won’t reveal that you or your sister are spying. The last thing we need is you undermining yet another of our plans.”

I glared at her, but her grip only tightened until I nodded. “I won’t reveal that Anaïs and I are spies.” The promise settled on me, binding, the magic running through my veins ensuring it would never be broken. I fled before they could come up with anything more to ask from me. Or anything more to take from me.

Not caring if it was improper, I bolted up the stairs and down the hallway to my rooms, silently skirting the sounds of Roland playing in his chambers, lest I draw his interest. Closing the door behind me, I rested my forehead against the polished oak and drew in a ragged breath.

What was the point in living?

The thought forced tears from my eyes, burning in a hot flood down my cheeks, because I no longer had a good answer.

Never before had I felt the press of the witch’s curse the way I did now, because there was no escape. Nowhere I could go that my father wouldn’t find me and drag me home. The only thing keeping me alive was Anaïs’s protection, and that now seemed tenuous at best.

My stomach hollow, I went to my bathing chamber, stripping off my sweaty gown as I went. I shut the door, wishing, not for the first time, it had a latch, but my father told me that privacy was a privilege of power.

Not that it mattered, for the tub was dry.

I stared at it, knowing that for once, Lessa ignoring one of my requests had nothing to do with her disdain for me. Corpses didn’t need baths, and that was what she’d expected me to be at this juncture.

Turning the tap, I went to stand in front of the full-length mirror while the tub filled, assessing the damage that had been done to my body by my father’s magic. Livid bruises stood out against my skin, my magic hesitant and faltering as it tried to repair the damage. From experience, I knew it would take days or more, so though I was exhausted, I painted illusion to cover the marks as I’d done so many times before. Until all that remained was a beautiful troll girl, every one of her flaws hidden within.

Don’t you think it’s time you earned the right to live?

“Penny?”

I whirled around to face my sister. “I’m grateful that you intervened to save my life, Anaïs, but I’ve no interest in speaking to you right now.”

Her eyes widened and she took a step back. “Penny, let me explain. I was only trying to protect you.”

“Only?” The water in the tub boiled, the air filling with steam. “I think this smacks of revenge. Because of me, your chance to be with Tristan was destroyed, so now you’re doing the same to my chances with Marc.”

Silence.

Then she said, “There was never a chance of you bonding Marc. Before, Father would never have allowed it. Now the King won’t, and neither… neither will Tristan. He’ll never allow Marc to take that sort of risk.”

Mockery would have hurt less than the pity in her voice. Because what she said was true.

“I wasn’t expecting him to bond me.” The words croaked out, forced from a throat so tight it barely felt like I could breathe. “We don’t need to be bonded to be together.”

“Oh, Penny. You know there isn’t a future in that. Not for someone in his position.”

Stupid foolish dreams. “You should’ve let Father kill me.”

Anaïs flinched. “Don’t say that. Don’t act as though your life ceases to be worth living because you can’t be bonded.”

I stared at her through the steam, furious that she didn’t understand why what she’d done was so horrible. “I’ve lived nearly my entire life believing I’d be alone, Anaïs. It’s an old hurt, and one to which I’ve long been reconciled.”

“But–”

“What you’ve asked of me is worse than being alone,” I said. “If I don’t do what Father wants, of a surety, he’ll find a way to see me dead. But if I do – if I fight to live – I’ll have to stomach something far worse than being alone: the knowledge that I’ve betrayed the trust of someone I care about to save my own skin.” I looked her up and down. “But apparently for you, that’s no trouble at all.”

Anaïs’s jaw tightened. “What possible incentive could I have to make Roland king, Penny? Father is the only one who can control his madness, which, if Roland assumed the throne, would render Father indispensable to everyone in Trollus, while both of us would become wholly disposable. We’d both have knives in our backs within hours of Roland’s coronation. What you saw just now is my way of ensuring those knives don’t show their faces sooner rather than later. As long as we remain useful to Father, he’ll be content to keep both of us alive. We need to play the game.”

I stared at her.

“If you don’t do this, the only way I’m going to be able to keep you safe is to kill both Father and Grandmother,” she said. “Is that what you want?”

Was it? I wasn’t sure. All my life, my father had controlled every aspect of my existence. Had treated me like a burden because my magic was weak and I was afflicted in the worst sort of ways. But he was still our father, and I didn’t want her to bear the burden of having ended his life just for the sake of eliminating a threat against mine. Anaïs might act as though she was untouchable, but I was her sister. I knew her better than that.

Misreading my silence, she said, “I’ll do it, if that’s what you want. But the King might well have me executed for it. I’m not above the law.”

My stomach clenched. “Surely Tristan wouldn’t allow that to happen?”

She didn’t respond, only turned her head to look at our reflections in the mirror. And in that moment, I hated Tristan more than I ever believed possible. His behavior had always disgusted me – his total disregard for the lives of half-bloods and humans alike. But the idea that he’d made my sister feel like her life was equally worthless? That was too much.

Except doing this meant betraying Marc. Manipulating him and using our friendship to bring down his cousin.

But was that such a bad thing? I’d seen his discomfort with the way Tristan behaved, which was so at odds with his own kind treatment to those considered beneath him. I’d always believed him loyal to his cousin, but how much of that loyalty was forced upon him by circumstance? Was it possible he might be better off freed from the service of a future tyrant?

Maybe our father was right, in a way. Maybe it was time Montigny rule of Trollus ended. If our family took control, it would be Anaïs who’d sit on the throne, either at Roland’s side or better yet, without him. She’d be Queen, and Trollus would thrive under her rule. If I had the opportunity to help make that happen, shouldn’t I take it?

“All right,” I said, squaring my shoulders. “I’ll do it.”