“Lord Northcott,” he addressed Uncle Reid, his voice bored. “You seem well. Who is with you?”

“My wife and my son, Etan. Then our relatives, Lady Eastoffe, Scarlet Eastoffe, and my newest niece, Hollis Eastoffe.”

At that, a hopeful blonde head peered around Uncle Reid’s, and I met eyes with Valentina, seated on her throne. She’d seemed so imposing the first time we met, so determined to leave a mark, good or bad, on anyone who passed her. Now she looked young and scared. She was trying to hide it, of course, as she’d grown accustomed to. Maybe it was seeing the face of a friend that brought her true feelings to the surface. She offered me a small smile, and I couldn’t help but smile in return, so happy to finally see her alive and well. She adjusted herself on her throne, so she could keep me in sight, and I just kept staring at her, wishing I could break every rule I’d learned so I could run up and embrace her.

But it didn’t take me long to realize that Valentina wasn’t the only one staring at me; Quinten was as well.

“Well, well. I’d heard that Jameson had lost his bride, but I didn’t think she’d end up in my court. What in the world are you doing here, child?” His voice, even painted in boredom, was menacing, and I had to take a steadying breath before answering.

“I am here with my family, Your Majesty. I am an Eastoffe now.”

He sat back in his throne, looking upon us with confusion. I couldn’t tell if he seemed thrown by the fact that I’d married into the family he’d tried to kill, or just that I hadn’t been slaughtered along with them. Whatever it was, he looked as unsettled as I felt.

“Are you to tell me you left a king for a craftsman? And a traitor to his kingdom, as well?”

“Silas Eastoffe spoke highly of Isolte all his life, Your Majesty. He was pained to leave it.” The diplomatic statement didn’t even require me to lie. Isolte was close to Silas’s heart. The land, the food, the customs . . . it was all still in the very fabric of his soul. The only thing here that drove Silas from his much-beloved home was the man speaking to me.

“Really?” Quinten asked in disbelief. “And if he is so fond of his homeland, why does he not dare to show his face now?”

That beast. He was going to make me say it. I looked around, noting all the curious eyes of his court, waiting for an answer. I willed myself not to cry.

“He’s . . .” My voice broke, and I took another breath. Etan’s thumb was there, rubbing on my hand where he held my arm aloft. Not alone, it said. I tried again. “He is dead, Your Majesty.”

Whatever his many weaknesses might be, King Quinten was quite the actor. His brow stayed furrowed as he took in the party of six, noting that there were several members who ought to be there but weren’t.