Kerrigan tried not to laugh but couldn’t help it. “Beautiful? Me? I hardly think that’s what did it.”

Beautiful wasn’t usually anyone’s choice word for her. Between the uncontrollably curly red hair, freckled face, and mouth that never seemed to know when to shut up, she’d gotten rambunctious, obstinate, and intimidating before beautiful.

And Fordham, of all people, had thought that she was an insult. She’d been sent by the Society to work for him during the tournament because the servants were too scared of him. That didn’t exactly go as planned—until she had prophetic dreams about him. The only thing he seemed to like less than a mouthy half-Fae shadowing him was one who actually helped him. Feelings for her enemy had only come later… when she stopped thinking of him as her enemy.

“Well, you’re not like the last one. That’s for certain,” the princess said.

Kerrigan forced herself not to react to that. Surely, Wynter was baiting her. “So, you must know the inner workings of the court then.”

Wynter arched a pale eyebrow. “Of course.”

Kerrigan hated to show her ignorance, but she needed answers. She couldn’t go on, not knowing what she was walking into. “Well, what is this dinner? Am I to meet the king?”

Wynter eyed her skeptically. “No one told you?”

Benton opened the door to reveal a room full of hundreds of stunning gowns. “Here we are, my ladies.”

Kerrigan met Benton’s gaze, and she shook her head just once. A warning. Don’t confide in Wynter. Don’t give her your secrets. You’ve already said too much.

But Wynter was waiting for an answer.

“No. No one told me.”

Wynter smiled at her. It was supposed to be friendly, but somehow, it only looked a little mad. “We’re to have a ball to celebrate my big brother’s return.”

A ball.

Big brother.

These words didn’t compute. Fordham had a … sister? Well, that had definitely never come up before. Of course, she should have associated princess with her being Fordham’s sister, but she was still so used to Bryonican royalty that these rules didn’t exactly make sense to her. In Bryonica, there were four royal lines and all the first of their line were considered princesses. Kerrigan had been a princess. Helly was technically a princess from a different royal house. She hadn’t realized that it would mean blood relative. If Fordham had divulged information about his home, then she wouldn’t continually be caught off guard. Wynter was apparently relishing in it.

“Well, a ball sounds lovely,” Kerrigan finally said. She hated court games and always had. But she was going to have to remember how to play if she was to survive here.

“I bet,” Wynter said.

“This way, Miss Kerrigan,” Benton said, pulling her into an adjoining room, away from Wynter.