“The only reason I won’t kill you is because Magnus stirred unrest in this camp. But you’re even now. Cross my brother again, and I won’t hesitate to kill you.” I turned to see the guards on the porch of the cabin and raised my voice. “All of you.” I stepped away and moved to my brother, ignoring Raven altogether, and nodded in the direction of my cabin. Then I took the lead, knowing he would follow.

We made it into my cabin, and after we took our seats and poured our scotch, the guards brought my dinner—a well-done steak with potatoes and asparagus. The guard dismissed himself, and we were surrounded in solitude once more.

Magnus was quiet, as if he needed time to process what had just happened.

I was hungry, so I cut into my steak and shoved pieces into my mouth.

Magnus stared at me, his palms together. “Thank you. I know you probably did it for Melanie, but—”

“No.” I shook my head. “I did it for you.”

Magnus stilled at my admission, his eyes filling with a look of gratitude. “Then I appreciate it even more.”

I was so pissed at Melanie right now that I couldn’t see straight. I didn’t want to save her sister. I didn’t want to spare someone who would never spare me. But I did it for her, too—even if I wouldn’t admit it. “How long has this been going on?”

We talked about the events in the camp as I ate my dinner, washing it down with scotch that hit me harder than usual because I had weaned myself off it. My plate was wiped clean, so I sat with my glass in hand.

“You didn’t bring Melanie with you.”

“No.” I took a drink.

He must have detected my tone because he said, “Everything alright?”

I pictured the way she’d sobbed in front of me in my bedroom, pleading for me to be someone I wasn’t. “Just need some space.”

Magnus let it go, and our conversation turned to Napoleon. When I returned to Paris, we both had an event where he would attend. My brother couldn’t contain his objection and reminded me once again that it wasn’t a good fit.

I didn’t care.

“I’d like to bring Raven, if that’s okay.”

My eyes narrowed on his face. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but Raven doesn’t hold a candle to Stasia, so I have to ask…what’s wrong with your dick?” His expression remained hard, doing his best to keep back his offense. “I don’t think Melanie is as remarkable as you claim.”