“Pénélope.” She sat down heavily on an eroded step, staring blindly out over the water. “She heard me laying the trap for my father last night, and she thinks I don’t care about half-blood lives. That I sabotaged any chance of the law being changed. That I’m no better than our father.”

I sat next to her. “That was part of the plan. She can’t know that you giving your father that information was intended to bait him into riling the half-bloods into action – toward joining the revolution – because it would raise too many questions about your true loyalties.”

“I’m aware.” Her tone was biting, though I knew it was directed at the situation, not me. “But the way she looked at me…” Anaïs sighed. “There is no one individual to whom I’m telling the whole truth. On some level or another, I’m deceiving every single person in my life, and trying to keep track of it all…” She rubbed a hand across her eyes. “I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know what I want.”

I silently considered her admission. Anaïs was not a sympathizer by the true definition of the word. She believed power mattered: that half-bloods and humans were not our equals. Yet she was as dedicated to the success of the revolution as the rest of us. Not because she might stand to benefit from Tristan taking the throne. Rather, it was a feeling deep within her core that those with power should use it to protect those without, and she seemed to take every loss of a half-blood life as a personal failure.

Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I finally asked, “Are you going to tell Tristan the truth about why your father has decided to move against him now?”

Anaïs exhaled softly, then shook her head. “This is why we can’t trust Pénélope with our secrets.”

There was no anger in her voice, only resignation, so I waited to see if she’d say more.

“I don’t want him to know about the betrothal.”

“Why?” I asked, curious, though I knew I was walking on dangerous ground.

She twisted a ring around one finger, the gemstones winking in our troll light. “Because he’d feel obligated to do something,” she finally said. “He’s not always rational when it comes to his father, Marc. You know that better than anyone. If he learned his father had broken our betrothal, he’d bond me for no other reason than because his father said he couldn’t.”

“I think he’d be more motivated to undo the hurt you’d endured than by spite,” I countered, knowing how protective my cousin was of her.

Anaïs wrinkled her nose. “That’s worse.” Her hands grew still. “I want him to choose to bond me because he loves me or I don’t want him to choose me at all.” Turning her head, she stared at me, unblinking. “Are you going to tell him?”

“No,” I said, admiring her bravery even though I could see it costing her in the end.