Vera barely held back a groan. Great.

Jaren reached down, lacing his fingers with hers and made to step around him, but Dedryn threw out an arm, halting his attempt. Holding a finger to his lips, he lowered his voice until she could barely make him out with her normal hearing.

“Listen to me carefully. You two met on Aleron by the happenstance of fate. You brought her back for the sole purpose that she was your mate, no other. Jaeros noticed her similarity to Queen Vaneara and informed me of who he suspected her to be.”

Jaren opened his mouth, fire all but spewing from his eyes, but one look from Dedryn had him snapping it shut again. A silent communication passed between them.

“You never found Vaneara in the woods the night Veralie was born. She never lived with us. Do you understand me?”

Veralie squeezed Jaren’s hand, fear creeping up her spine with the power emanating from Dedryn. His hand slipped around the pommel of his blade as he stepped nose to nose with Jaren before continuing.

“I will protect you and your aitanta with my life. Always. But if you endanger Jae because you can’t rein in your gods forsaken pride, you will answer to me.”

Vera chewed on her lip, unable to watch the emotion the two males exchanged as Jaren nodded in understanding. And for the first time, a thread of hatred for her mother worked its way into her heart.

Her mother had done this. Forced Jaren’s fathers to carry a secret that was never theirs to carry. Made them terrified of it being discovered to the point of hurting those they loved in the hope of keeping their promise. Forced them to fear for their safety and the safety of their son.

Jaeros had said her mother loved her people with a fierceness he’d never seen, but the more Vera learned of the female who’d given her life, the more she wasn’t so sure she believed it.

* * *

The room Dedryn led them into was surprisingly small, especially given what she’d been expecting. Only big enough to comfortably fit a table set for ten, it had a servant’s entrance to the right, and three large windows against the back wall, overlooking what appeared to be a private garden of some kind.

King Vesstan sat in the center of the far side of the table, rather than the head of it as Emperor Sulian had. Taeral, indeed, sat on one side and looked so different in her pale pink gown, Vera might not have recognized her if it wasn’t for the familiar sharp cheekbones and the hazel death glare plastered to her face.

And standing on King Vesstan’s other side, just behind him, was Onas. Unlike the others, he wasn’t dressed up, and instead wore the same plain tunic and trousers she’d seen him in before. His head was down, and he was clasping and unclasping his hands, refusing to make eye contact.