That hadn’t been what she meant at all. I glanced at Angoulême, but his arms were crossed, eyes on the woman on the auction block.

Roland was rubbing his chin with one gloved finger. “That’s true, Anaïs.” He dropped his hand to the child-sized sword hanging from his waist. “Bow.”

Fighting back a sigh, I did so. “Forgive my lapse, Your Highness.”

My brother smirked. “You are forgiven.”

I had thought the impostor would be pleased to see me so lowered, but when I straightened, I found she wasn’t looking at me, but rather at the girl on the platform. Nevertheless, her expression was pleased. “Will you watch with me, Highness?” she said, tugging on his arm.

“I suppose.” Roland grudgingly allowed himself to be led closer to the platform, the crowd parting for him, all eyes nervous.

“Are you sure it’s wise having him near this many half-bloods?” I muttered to Angoulême.

“He won’t do anything I don’t want him to.”

It was a strange thing to be so certain about. I eyed Angoulême curiously, wondering when he had last spoken so forthrightly. Indeed, he hardly seemed to be paying any attention to me at all, the blank expression he wore clearly driven by some other cause.

“Sold!” the auctioneer shouted. “For two hundred three gold pieces to the Miners’ Guild.” The Anaïs impostor clapped her hands once, the outburst strange enough that even Roland eyed her uncertainly.

Angoulême closed his eyes for one, two, three heartbeats, and when they opened, they were full of an emotion I’d never seen on his face. It dawned on me why he was here, and why he was ignoring me.

“How long do you suppose she’ll last down there?” I asked quietly, watching the crying half-blood trip off the platform. “House born. House trained. Nearly as pampered as the ladies she served.”

Angoulême slowly turned his head to meet my gaze. “What makes you think that is any concern of mine?”

I shrugged one shoulder. “It certainly seems to concern her.” I jerked my chin in the impostor’s direction, finding myself unable to even call her by Anaïs’s name.

“Yes.” He turned to look at the pair. “I suppose I have that much to thank you for, Tristan. Your betrayal has well and truly turned Anaïs from your cause. She is now every bit the daughter I had hoped for. And more.”

He didn’t know it wasn’t her. The impostor had managed to fool even Anaïs’s own father. How blind was Angoulême that he couldn’t see the impostor for what she was? I opened my lips to say as much; to, in one fell swoop, foil whatever it was my father was planning. “What…” I broke off. As much as I wanted to reveal the impostor, doing so without understanding my father’s intentions might be a mistake.

She and Roland walked back up to us, but Angoulême ignored them. “What…” He raised one eyebrow at me. I decided to go another route.