Estevan, Cole, and Kassander each wore masks of their own that kept the top half of their faces hidden from view.

Helena shook her head vigorously. “You don’t have to do this.” Their gesture was symbolic at best, holding none of the weight her mask held, but it still meant everything to her. “Father is not going to be pleased.”

Cole grunted. “I do not live my life to please that man.”

Stev stepped forward. “I think what Cole means is we should have done this a long time ago. Until you started going into the city on your own, I never considered how hard this life was for you.”

“Come here.” She held her arms out and Stev stepped into them. She reached a second arm toward Cole and embraced them both. Kassander wiggled his way in between all of them. “I wish Quinn was here.”

“Children,” their mother’s voice made them break apart. “We must be on our way.”

Helena turned to her to find she, too, wore a mask over her delicate features.

Her mother sent her a confident smile and gestured to the door. The six of them filed down the hall with a handful of guards close behind. Servants stared, bewildered as they passed.

The king awaited his family in the room adjoining the ballroom. Music drifted from the party above the sounds of chatter.

Out in the city, Madra may suffer, but in that room, the people were truly alive.

The king scanned his masked family with a scowl on his face. The queen kissed his cheek. “Hello, dear.” He turned away from her with disgust and waited for the doors to open.

As they did, the orchestra stopped playing immediately.

A woman dressed in the deep blue livery of the royal family stood to one side as a line of royal guards streamed through the door, stopping abruptly as they cleared a path for the royal family.

The king stepped forward first, and the queen took his arm.

The woman cleared her throat. “The king and queen of Madra.”

The cheer that wound its way through the crowd was subdued. Helena scanned the faces with a new realization that the people only did as the king demanded. There was no true love in their desire for favor.

They’d lost faith in him long ago.

And she hadn’t seen it. She had once loved her father deeply, and it blinded her to the truth.

But not anymore. Now her trust in him was as broken as the heart beating inside her chest. Irreparable.

As the herald announced her brothers and Camille, she pasted a practiced smile on her face and glided into the great gold-adorned room.

Pillars of cherry wood lined the back wall, stretching up to a ceiling painted to depict Madran victory in battle.