I silently dressed, then eased out of the room, brightening my light only once I was out in the hallway. Following the smell of food, I ignored the urge to sneak out the back and went to find my parents.

But only my mother sat at the table, a steaming cup held delicately in one hand. “Your father has gone to speak with the Duke,” she said. “And His Majesty is expecting you.”

“I know.”

I started to leave, but then she said, “Sit with me and eat before you go, darling.”

Reluctantly, I tugged out one of the chairs, then selected a number of items for my plate though I wasn’t the slightest bit hungry. Across the room, the piano began to play a simple melody, a lullaby I recognized from my childhood, her magic pressing the keys as though it were an extension of her fingers.

“Eat.”

I bit into a piece of bread layered with egg and butter sauce, one of my favorites, but the richness made me nauseous.

“How is Pénélope?”

I swallowed, the food sticking in my throat. “Sleeping.”

“Good. She needs to keep up her strength.” A note jangled harsh and loud, and my mother frowned. “She’s lived a difficult life in that house. Some villains are born. Some are made. Édouard is both. As is his mother.”

It was strange to hear my mother speak so familiarly about the Duke d’Angoulême, which made me wonder how well she knew him. How much contact they’d had in the past.

“I understand your choice, Marc,” she said, setting down her cup. “You wish to keep her safe. And even if her life were not in danger, bonding always has an allure for those deeply in love. It is the pinnacle–” she lifted her hand high “–connection that can be achieved between two hearts. An ultimate and unalterable commitment in our world where loyalty flips on the turn of a coin. But…”

I couldn’t help flinching at the word, because no good ever came from it.

“But you are my son, and I fear the danger your choice has put your life in.” The music ceased and she pressed a hand to her temple for a moment before turning her face to me, her magic brushing my cheek. “No parent wishes to outlive their child.”

Her unseeing eyes turned liquid with tears, and my stomach twisted with guilt. “Mother…”

“Shhh.” Rising, she came around the table, pulling me against her. “I am terrified for you, Marc. As is your father. But above all, I wish for you to be happy and to know love, so for the sake of that wish, I will try to be brave.” Bending, she kissed my forehead in a way she hadn’t since I was a little boy. “Now go. You shouldn’t keep the King waiting.”

I was directed not to the throne room, but to the King’s study, where I found him reading reports with his feet propped up on the desk. I bowed, then waited for him to acknowledge me, my heart racing faster and faster with each passing second.