Fordham had mentioned once about there being three families, but they weren’t like what she was used to. These were more factions, always vying for the right to rule. People could move between the factions, depending on their loyalty. They went to war against each other continuously, seeking to depose his father, and then war would start again until he got his throne back. It sounded barbaric. And explained so much about Fordham.

“So, Laurent and Blanchard are traveling back to court for …”

“The prince’s return,” Bayton whispered. She looked around, as if someone would catch them.

“Is it good or bad that he’s back?” Kerrigan asked. She could see it going either way, considering his exile.

“We do not know,” Bayton said, glancing uneasily at her sister.

“But court has not been the same since he left,” Benton added.

They reached the top of the stairs, and Benton and Bayton went completely still. Then, they dipped into a low curtsy.

“Princess Wynter,” they said in unison.

Kerrigan took their lead and dropped low. Princess? Who was this girl? The figure before her was hardly how Kerrigan expected a princess to dress, but what did she know about this bloody court?

“What is going on here?” Princess Wynter asked.

Kerrigan rose with the twins and got a good look at the woman. Princess Wynter was dressed in all black—a loose black tunic tucked into tight fighting pants. Her boots were quality leather, laced up to her knees. A bow was slung over her back with a quiver of arrows attached to her hip. Her hair was down to the middle of her back and the same color as her skin—white as snow. She had uncanny light-blue eyes that seemed to suck life out of the world.

“Ma’am, we’re escorting Miss Kerrigan to get ready for dinner.”

Wynter tilted her head to the side. She was practically ageless. She could have been seventeen, like Kerrigan, or three hundred, but either way, those eyes were something altogether different.

“I shall join you,” she declared. “I need to prepare as well.”

Benton nodded, even as Bayton clenched her hands into fists. “As you wish, my lady.”

“Bayton, fetch my attendants as well.”

Bayton dipped into another curtsy and then all but fled. Benton, to her credit, held her head up as she directed them down the hallway.

Wynter fell into step next to Kerrigan. Her eyes were forward, but it felt as if she were weighing her. “So, you are Fordham’s new interest.”

Kerrigan kept her face carefully neutral. New interest was such a clever way to say concubine. Though the more interesting part of the sentence was using Fordham’s given name. This was his sister. So it made sense. And yet, it made little sense at the same time.

“I suppose that I am.”

“Well, you are beautiful. I’ll give him that for taste.”