Joran’s hand closed over Nina’s, hiding the bone dart. He forced her rigid body to turn. “I presumed upon Enke Jandersdat and she rightly put me in my place.”

“Is this true?” asked the prince.

Nina couldn’t speak. Her jaw felt wired shut. If she tried to wrench it open to speak, she would start screaming and she wouldn’t stop.

Hanne came to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I should take her home.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Prince Rasmus. “She’s fine. It’s not as if he put her up against the wall and lifted her skirts.”

Hanne stared at him. “That’s not the point.”

“She’s a widow, not an untried maiden, Hanne. Don’t be difficult.”

“Joran said—”

“Joran gave a lonely widow a little attention. It was probably a thrill for her.”

Something shifted in Hanne’s face, rage overtaking her beautiful features. “Does she look thrilled?”

Nina had no idea what she looked like in this moment. A ghost. A spirit sent to seek vengeance. A woman undone.

“Oh, Hanne, don’t be such a killjoy. You’re worse than one of my tutors.”

“And you are being thoughtless and cruel.”

All of the prince’s warmth vanished. “Watch your tongue, Hanne Brum. I won’t be bullied by you or your father.”

Joran said, “The fault was all mine, Your Majesty. I can only beg Enke Jandersdat’s forgiveness.”

“I tell you when to beg,” said Rasmus. “You serve no master but me.” Then suddenly he was smiling. “Oh, everyone stop glowering and be merry. I shall be good and kind and patient—just as Hanne is. Joran, go fetch us something stronger than punch to drink.”

Joran bowed and Nina clutched at Hanne’s arm, afraid that if she let go, she would chase the guard down and wrap her hands around his throat.

“Now smile for me, Hanne. Sometimes princes are cruel. It’s their prerogative.”

Hanne’s fingers tensed on Nina’s arm, but she forced herself to smile and curtsy. “Of course, Your Highness.”

I taught her that, Nina thought. I taught her to lie and feign compliance. I took a wild thing and showed her how to wear a leash. It might be pretense now, but Nina knew—act the part long enough and the show of being tame could become reality.

Hanne’s performance was enough for the prince.

He grinned, eyes twinkling. “What a pretty bride you’ll make for someone. Shall we have another dance? We can take poor Mila to sit with your mother, and Joran will be left to turn in circles with his hands full of punch glasses.”

“It would be my great pleasure, Your Highness,” Hanne said sweetly.

“There now. I’ve bent a Brum to my will. That wasn’t so hard.”

The prince laughed, but Nina could not make herself join in.