I rub my face. I’m tired. That’s all it is. This has been an incredibly long day, and it’s wearing me down. “Okay, fine. If we’re not going to have a sexy triad, can we wrap this up? I need my beauty rest.”

Something flickers over Shiloh’s face, and if I were a romantic person, I’d accuse her of worrying about me. That’s silly, though. I’m bulletproof. Everyone knows it. Knock me down and I come back up swinging without hesitation, ready to do double the damage in half the time.

So why does my chest feel so tight?

I’m a shark. Keep swimming or drown.

Just have to keep moving.

“There’s something else.” Broderick’s tone has the small hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. The fact he won’t meet my gaze only has my internal alarms blaring louder. He curses. “We have to figure our shit out, and we have to do it now.”

“Why? We’re functioning just fine by avoiding each other.” Obviously I’m aware of the message that sends to people both inside and outside of the compound, but that’s Broderick’s problem, not mine.

“If we don’t find a happy medium, I don’t know if you’ll survive the month.”

I blink, letting the words roll over me. Letting my brain process. “You’re the one who’s been avoiding me.” But of course, that doesn’t matter what the cause is, only the perception of those around us. If I were in Abel’s position, I wouldn’t have let it go on this long. Broderick avoiding his Bride sends a clear message about the power dynamics between us—that they aren’t in his favor. The stunt Abel pulled on Lammas means all of Sabine Valley has its gaze turned in our direction. They can’t afford to falter now, to show the least bit of weakness, or the rest of the city will fall on them like rabid dogs.

My chest goes tight, but I muscle past the physical response and paste a smile on my face. “So Abel’s going to clean up your mess.” My laugh sounds a little hysterical, but I can’t help that. “Will it be poison, or will he shove me out a window? I’m assuming violence is out, because my mother would raze this fucking faction to the ground if she could prove you’d murdered me.”

Which means Winry would take over as heir.

The thought makes me sick. My little sister is brilliant and kind and loving, but she would wither away as the Amazon queen, having to sacrifice piece after piece of herself until she became just as cold and ruthless as our mother and I are. I don’t want that for her. She doesn’t want the role, either.

Shiloh spins to stare at Broderick. “He wouldn’t.”