March narrowed his eyes. He still hadn’t released her arm. There would be bruises. She shouldn’t have been afraid. She was much more powerful than he was. She had four other Society members here with her. She could stop this. And yet she felt ensnared. As she had all those years ago as a child when she caught him skinning the squirrel. The ruthlessness of the act and complete lack of remorse. She’d thought he might be different. That he might have changed in those years apart, but no, he’d just gotten better at hiding it. And she was frozen in place as time shifted around them… and fear took the place of her confidence.

“You went to the hot springs last night. You returned to his rooms,” March snapped. “How long?”

“How do you know that?” she gasped. “Have you been spying on me?”

March searched her expression carefully, as if looking for guile. When he found none, he actually laughed. He laughed at her. “You know nothing about your own lands, do you?”

“What does that mean?”

March dropped her arm, and she stumbled back two steps. “Your father was in disgrace before you were born. He cut a deal with the House of Medallion and then disappeared for five years. We protected the lands and people with the understanding that we were allies. And allies repay their debts. That means, as soon as you were born and named heir to the House, you were tied to my house, to me. The House of Cruse owed the House of Medallion a marriage betrothal for everything that we’d done for you. To this day, your father has next to no standing army, and we have been securing your lands even after your supposed death.”

Kerrigan blinked at those words. Realization dawned on her. That meant that the soldiers she’d seen in Lillington hadn’t been for the House of Cruse at all. They weren’t her father’s men. They’d been March’s lackeys all along. They were the ones to see her and Fordham head off into the woods. They reported what had happened to him. They had likely been doing it all week.

“Yes,” he said, a cruel smile twisting his features. “You understand now.”

She had never considered why she’d been betrothed to March. Her father had never mentioned any consequences to her breaking the agreement. Or what it might mean for the lands or the people if she withdrew.

“So, it’s over,” March demanded. “Whatever is happening with Prince Fordham is over and done with.”

“You don’t get to decide that for me.”

“You’re wrong about that. We’re engaged. I could try you before a court for being a slut.”

Kerrigan gasped at the word. “How dare you.”

“Or I could just withdraw my troops, declare war, and slaughter all of your people. Maybe we only need three royal houses in Bryonica anymore.”