My father was in the dining room, as was his custom, a steaming cup of tea in one hand and discarded tray of breakfast sitting to his left. At the sound of my approach, his gaze left the pages he’d been reading, one eyebrow rising as he looked me up and down.

“Well,” he said, setting aside his cup. “I’d ask where you’d been all night, but the state of your appearance is answer enough.”

I sat across the table from him, smoothing my skirts out of habit, though the rumpled and water-stained silk was beyond repair.

“Was the night wasted on kisses and sweet nothings, or is the deed done?”

The mockery in his voice was simultaneously humiliating and infuriating, but the question was expected and I needed to give the truth where I could. “It is done.” And because he’d accept nothing less than plain speech, I added, “My relationship with Marc has been consummated.”

His nose wrinkled as though he smelled something distasteful. “Your sacrifice for the good of our family is duly noted.”

I wanted to slap the expression off his face, but I forced my gaze to remain downcast and nodded.

“Who else is aware of this development?”

“Only you.”

“Not his parents? Is there any chance they suspect?”

I shook my head.

“Good.” His gloved hand moved to his teacup, the sound of him swallowing loud and repugnant in my ears. “The Comte has several prospects in mind for his son, and he won’t want those jeopardized by an entanglement with the likes of you. It will be hard enough to convince those girls that a close liaison with the crown is worth night after night with that.”

I clenched my fingers around the hilt of the knife, only Lessa’s appearance preventing me from plunging it into his smirking face. She picked up his discarded tray, but he caught her wrist. “Have Anaïs escort Roland to his tutors, as I’m otherwise occupied. They should leave now – it would not do for him to be late.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Lessa replied, skirts swishing as she strolled from the room, tray floating carelessly behind her in gross disregard for her place as a servant. Fear roiled through me, because Roland’s lessons began whenever he bothered to arrive. His promptness mattered far less than getting Anaïs out of the house. So she wouldn’t hear my screams.

We sat in silence, him sipping his tea and me kneading my skirts until we heard the rapid patter of Roland’s boots on the stairs. Sweat trickled down my spine and my stomach tumbled beneath my ribs, every instinct telling me to call out for my sister.

Play the game.

Coming home at all had been a dangerous choice, although to call it such was a misnomer, because there was nowhere I could go where he couldn’t find me. Though I’d not planned to do so, last night I’d discovered the proof my father had wanted – there was now enough information floating in my head to bring down Marc, Tristan, and the sympathizer cause itself.