Using the edge of a table to pull myself back onto my feet, I turned to see my father hanging in the air, his arms pinned to his sides. The surprise on his face turned swiftly to anger, and I screamed a warning as a wave of heat surged across the room.

To shatter against a force much greater.

Anaïs gave an exasperated sigh. “Well, I suppose that’s another secret out of the bag. It won’t be long until we have very few left.” Strolling across the room, she drew the sword belted at her waist. From the glittering edge, I knew it wasn’t one of the practice blades she and Tristan used. “If you hurt my sister again, I will kill you.”

The look he shot her was pure derision. “Even now, you protect her. Pénélope ruined everything for you. What is being a duchesse to being a princess? To being a queen? How much warmth will remain in your heart for your sister when Thibault chooses your replacement?”

“It will remain unaffected.”

“Oh?” He laughed, and listed off a string of names, all girls our age set to inherit titles. “Which one of them do you think it will be? And how well do you suppose she’ll tolerate your continued presence? How long until you find yourself completely shut out of Tristan’s life?”

“Which is why we must do everything in our power to keep that from happening,” a voice said.

Anaïs and I both turned to see our grandmother enter the room.

“Wipe that pathetic frightened look off your face, Pénélope,” my grandmother snapped. “You are alive, and your sister seems inclined to keep you that way. A fact you might keep in mind the next time you feel possessed to act out in the presence of royalty. And Anaïs, put your father down. You’ve made your point.”

“What do you suggest, grandmother?” Anaïs asked, lowering our father to the ground, and releasing him.

“A change of strategy.” Picking up a decanter, my grandmother poured three glasses of wine, handing one to Anaïs and one to my father, whom she eyed up and down. “You seem to be forgetting one thing: the Montignys are killers. I’ll not ever forget the way the royal chambers dripped with blood after Thibault disposed of his own father, and all because the King had taken something that belonged to him. Do you think Tristan won’t do the same if his father stands between him and something he wants?”

My father sipped his wine, eyes distant and thoughtful. “Perhaps.” His gaze focused on Anaïs. “But success in such a strategy is predicated upon emotion, and I prefer more certainty in my plans. It’s time we pushed Roland toward the throne.”

Anaïs blinked once, then laughed. “You can’t be serious. Roland is a sadistic little monster – and entirely insane – there is no chance of the King disinheriting Tristan in favor of his brother.”

“Unless we give him no choice.”

Silence.

“What exactly are you suggesting?” There was no inflection in my sister’s voice, but I knew that meant she was rattled by the direction this conversation was going. I didn’t blame her.