“Not killing him, since that’s obviously your concern,” our father said, smirking. “That would put us at risk of Thibault taking off our heads. What I propose is proving Tristan is plotting against his father. Then the King will do our dirty work for us.”

“Plotting to do what?” Anaïs asked.

“Overthrow him, obviously,” my grandmother replied. “And you’re going to find proof.”

Anaïs said nothing, and I held my breath.

“Unless, of course,” my grandmother continued, “your loyalty is no longer to this family.”

The room was thick with tension and magic, and I prepared myself to do what I could to defend my sister if her answer wasn’t to their liking. She might be able to best my father, but not both of them together.

Slowly, Anaïs turned her head to regard me, then returned her attention to our father. “I love my family. I want us to remain strong and powerful, and I’ll make sacrifices in order to ensure we endure.”

I exhaled a ragged breath.

“Good.” Our grandmother smiled and took a sip from her glass. “It would be distressing to learn that you’d become as useless to us as your sister.”

Anaïs snorted, then shook her head. “You ask me to do this as though it is a simple thing. Tristan’s the furthest thing from stupid. If he’s plotting against his father, why would he let me in on his plans? He trusts me as much as anyone, but what does that mean when he trusts no one? What certainty could I possibly give him that my loyalty to him is absolute? That I would not sell him out in favor of loyalty to my family?”

“She’s right.” My grandmother tapped a fingernail against her glass. “Duplicity is in that one’s blood. To cause him to slip up, Anaïs needs to be closer to him. In bed with him, as they say. The benefits of her as his lover are manifold. Not only would he be more likely to confide his secrets, there is every chance he’d fall in love with her. And hope against hope, there is a chance a healthy child could be produced. I think then that the boy would be more than willing to dispatch his father in order to bond her. There might be a chance of Anaïs becoming Queen after all.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the liquid in Anaïs’s glass shiver, but I did not think anyone else noticed.

“A fallible plan.” My father shook his head. “Better she turn her efforts to finding proof of the boy’s traitorous ways.”

“We can play both angles for a time.” My grandmother eyed Anaïs. “You’ll need to change your ways if you wish to seduce a prince. You’ll certainly need to change your attire.”

Anaïs shrugged. “Likely. I’ll arrange for Lessa to stand for the dressmakers.”

It was an awfully easy concession. I hadn’t seen her willingly wear a gown in years – not since she’d grown old enough that grandmother could no longer make her. A fact that was not lost on our father. He lifted one eyebrow. “Your eagerness makes me question your motivations, Anaïs.”