Armand’s eyes were cool and remote. So was his voice. “You want more than I’m free to give.”

“I want what’s mine by right.”

“What’s yours is yours only when I give it to you.” Brie straightened, pale but steady. “Is this a father?” Her voice was soft yet cut like a knife. “You rule Cordina well, Your Highness. Can the same be said for your family?”

It struck clean to the bone. Not a muscle on his face moved. “You have to trust me, Gabriella.”

“Trust?” Her voice wavered only once. “This,” she told him with a gesture toward the thermos. “This shows me I can’t trust anyone. Not anyone,” she repeated. Turning, she fled from both of them.

“Let her go,” Armand ordered when Reeve was halfway across the room. “She’s looked after. I tell you she’s looked after,” he repeated when Reeve continued toward the door. “Let her go.”

The words wouldn’t have stopped him, but the tone did. There was pain in it, the same vibrant pain Reeve had heard in Armand’s voice that day in the hospital waiting room. Because of it, he paused at the doorway and looked back.

“Don’t you know her every movement is watched?” Armand said quietly. “So closely that I know where she spent last night.” Weariness exposed, he sat.

Reeve stayed where he was, eyes narrowed. He hadn’t missed how often servants busied themselves near Brie, but he’d thought it Alexander’s doing. “You have her spied on?”

“I have her looked after,” Armand said very slowly. “Do you think I’d leave her safety to chance, Reeve? Or even in your very capable hands alone? I needed you for all the reasons I’ve stated, but with my daughter’s life I use everything available to me.” Armand ran his hands over his face briefly, but the gesture was his first outward sign of tension. “Please, close the door and stay. It’s time you know more than I’ve told you.”

A man had to trust his instincts. He could live or die by them. Reeve shut the door quietly and came back to the desk. “What game are you playing, Armand?”

“One that will keep my country, my people at peace. One that will, God willing, bring my child back, safe and whole. One that will bring those who wish it differently punished.” He picked up the smooth white rock. “Well punished,” he whispered as he squeezed his hand tight. He’d vowed it already to the wife he’d loved and lost.

“You know who took her.” Reeve’s voice was quiet, but the anger still vibrated beneath. “You’ve known all along.”

“Know of one, suspect another.” Armand’s hand opened and closed on the rock. “You suspect, as well.” His eyes, hard and cold, stayed on Reeve’s. “I’m not unaware that you’ve looked into matters, studied the facts, have certain theories. I’d expected no less. However, I hadn’t expected you to share your thoughts with Gabriella.”

“Who had a better right?”

“I’m her father, but her ruler first. Her rights are mine to give, mine to take.” The arrogance was there, the cold, hard power Reeve recognized, even admired.