I stared at it, knowing that for once, Lessa ignoring one of my requests had nothing to do with her disdain for me. Corpses didn’t need baths, and that was what she’d expected me to be at this juncture.

Turning the tap, I went to stand in front of the full-length mirror while the tub filled, assessing the damage that had been done to my body by my father’s magic. Livid bruises stood out against my skin, my magic hesitant and faltering as it tried to repair the damage. From experience, I knew it would take days or more, so though I was exhausted, I painted illusion to cover the marks as I’d done so many times before. Until all that remained was a beautiful troll girl, every one of her flaws hidden within.

Don’t you think it’s time you earned the right to live?

“Penny?”

I whirled around to face my sister. “I’m grateful that you intervened to save my life, Anaïs, but I’ve no interest in speaking to you right now.”

Her eyes widened and she took a step back. “Penny, let me explain. I was only trying to protect you.”

“Only?” The water in the tub boiled, the air filling with steam. “I think this smacks of revenge. Because of me, your chance to be with Tristan was destroyed, so now you’re doing the same to my chances with Marc.”

Silence.

Then she said, “There was never a chance of you bonding Marc. Before, Father would never have allowed it. Now the King won’t, and neither… neither will Tristan. He’ll never allow Marc to take that sort of risk.”

Mockery would have hurt less than the pity in her voice. Because what she said was true.

“I wasn’t expecting him to bond me.” The words croaked out, forced from a throat so tight it barely felt like I could breathe. “We don’t need to be bonded to be together.”

“Oh, Penny. You know there isn’t a future in that. Not for someone in his position.”

Stupid foolish dreams. “You should’ve let Father kill me.”

Anaïs flinched. “Don’t say that. Don’t act as though your life ceases to be worth living because you can’t be bonded.”

I stared at her through the steam, furious that she didn’t understand why what she’d done was so horrible. “I’ve lived nearly my entire life believing I’d be alone, Anaïs. It’s an old hurt, and one to which I’ve long been reconciled.”

“But–”

“What you’ve asked of me is worse than being alone,” I said. “If I don’t do what Father wants, of a surety, he’ll find a way to see me dead. But if I do – if I fight to live – I’ll have to stomach something far worse than being alone: the knowledge that I’ve betrayed the trust of someone I care about to save my own skin.” I looked her up and down. “But apparently for you, that’s no trouble at all.”

Anaïs’s jaw tightened. “What possible incentive could I have to make Roland king, Penny? Father is the only one who can control his madness, which, if Roland assumed the throne, would render Father indispensable to everyone in Trollus, while both of us would become wholly disposable. We’d both have knives in our backs within hours of Roland’s coronation. What you saw just now is my way of ensuring those knives don’t show their faces sooner rather than later. As long as we remain useful to Father, he’ll be content to keep both of us alive. We need to play the game.”