Aldrik stared at her hopelessly, then glared at his brother, but he went obediently to his father’s side.

Vhalla felt Aldrik’s eyes on her as Prince Baldair’s hand fell lightly on her hip, and he led her out of the room into the morning sun.

“Please remove your hand from my person,” Vhalla mumbled to the Heartbreaker Prince.

He flashed her a toothy grin. “Now, now, be more gracious,” he said charmingly. “People are watching you.” He smiled at a few soldiers as he began leading her back across the square.

“Exactly,” she replied. People watching was precisely what she was worried about.

“Oh? Don’t want them to think that you’re involved with me?” Prince Baldair returned a wave. “Just my brother?”

Vhalla glared at him. “Let it drop,” she cautioned. Her pace quickened to cross the distance faster.

“Not until you realize he’s playing you.” All jest, all joy was gone from his voice, and Prince Baldair’s face had turned serious.

“It’s not your business,” Vhalla argued.

“I thought he wasn’t. I thought maybe he had changed.” The prince held the door of the inn open for her, and Vhalla all but flew up the stairs. “But from what I saw, what I’ve heard, this past day—that’s not the case.”

Vhalla bit her tongue and swung open her door, hoping Larel would be waiting and would save her. She was not. The prince caught the closing door with a hand, and Vhalla turned sharply.

“I am still recovering, my prince, and would like to rest. Please, excuse me.” She mustered the last of her polite decorum.

“I am trying to help,” he said.

Vhalla saw concern marked across his pained expression. “Oh?” Her patience ran thin. “Like you helped the last time we had a little chat?”

“Everything I told you then was true.” Something in his tone gave Vhalla pause, she swayed slightly. “Vhalla, please sit. My brother and Father will give me hell if something ill befalls you on my watch.”

Vhalla eased herself onto the bed, pulling off her boots and lying down. She rolled on her side, her back to the prince. Everything hurt the moment she began to relax, but there was not much opportunity to do so as the prince rounded to sit on the edge of the bed, facing her. Vhalla glared at him.

“Vhalla, please listen. I want to tell you something,” Prince Baldair implored.

She sighed. “If I listen, will you go?”

He nodded, and Vhalla waited expectantly. “My brother and I are three years apart, which is a significant gap when you are five and eight, or twelve and fifteen, but at fifteen and eighteen and up it becomes less and less significant.” She wondered why he was exhausting her with trivia about their birthdays. “Not long after my ceremony of manhood there was a year where my brother and I decided to engage in some friendly competition.”

“Friendly competition?” Vhalla braced herself for what that meant between these men.

“I’ve always been ... charming.” Prince Baldair smiled at her, and she didn’t even refrain from rolling her eyes. At least he laughed. “My brother grew as a strange, sad child. At one point it seemed as though he hit a new low and just gave into the darkness and distance surrounding him. To be honest, I never saw him leave it.”

Vhalla found it interesting how Prince Baldair’s and Larel’s descriptions could be both similar and different.

“At some point we had a row, and doesn’t really matter about what, he was eighteen and I was at the ever hot-headed age of fifteen. I said he could not even get a woman to so much as glance at him because of how he was.” Vhalla stilled, beginning to listen intently. “For whatever reason, my brother took the challenge.”

“Challenge?” she repeated softly.

“For one year, it was a challenge for who could have the most women agree to share their bed.”

Vhalla’s eyes widened. “That’s ... awful.”

“It is certainly not the worst thing either of us have done to pass the time. Nor the worst thing young princes have ever, or will ever, do.” Vhalla saw the likely truth of his words with horror. “At first, I was an overnight favorite. But I underestimated my brother. One by one, like flies in a web, they began to offer themselves to him. I didn’t understand and it frustrated me daily. How my lanky, awkward, depressing shell of a brother managed to reclaim a solid lead.”

“Enough, I get it.” She pressed her face into her pillow.

“No, we haven’t gotten to the point yet.” He had a grim expression and Vhalla obliged silently. “I thought it was simply because he was the crown prince. But that wasn’t the case as the ladies seemed to call long after their turn was up, ever hopeful. Eventually I found he was not actually taking them to bed. They agreed to it, which given the wording of our bet placed him in the lead. But he never actually took one of them.”

Vhalla’s brow furrowed. “Why not?” Of course, she felt happy hearing that he hadn’t slept with a host of women, though luring them in like cattle seemed bad enough.

“I finally asked him once when I confronted him about the terms of the challenge. I’ll never forget what he told me.” Prince Baldair looked away. “He told me that it was the hunt that he relished. That none of them were good enough to merit his touch. That he did not have to kill the prey to have the satisfaction of the win. It was amusing; it was sport to watch them fall. For the next six months after, I watched him skillfully play every eligible woman he met. Somehow he knew what they wanted to hear, how they wanted to be led, and he did it with a complete mask of sincerity. He took things from them, but not their bodies. Their dignity, their time, their dreams ...”