The room stilled.
Edric’s silence was its own admission.
Vesper leaped onto the desk, sniffing at Edric. “Well, no wonder I couldn’t smell any higher-order magic on him. I thought it was his Saints-awful cologne blocking any other scent—but there isn’t any magic to smell.”
“You and your parents have been lying this whole time,” Thistle said. “They were too proud to admit their only heir was ungifted.”
Branrir snapped his fingers. “That’s why you needed Quinn.”
The king clenched his jaw.
I raised my fist again.
“All right, yes!” Edric blustered. “My parents arranged themarriage to Quinn because if I had gifted children, no one would question me again. And if they did—her Twilight could manipulate all of them anyway.”
Quinn stood at my shoulder, disgust lining her expression. “You misled an entire kingdom, and you meant to use me to continue your dishonesty.”
The king lifted his chin. “Perception is the real power. Quinnie should be grateful.”
“Grateful?” I choked.
“I gave her everything! A crown, protection, a place in history. She would have been executed as a Twilight without my parents’ intervention. I gave her a life.”
“You gave her a prison sentence!”
Thistle folded her arms. “Were you lying, again, when you said both curses would break if she married you?”
“Well…it would have broken mine.” Edric shifted in his seat. “But I had every intention of finding a way to break hers, too. I was going to have Lord Zachariah form a new tether binding her to me so she’d stay awake.”
“How magnanimous of you,” Vesper said, rolling his eyes.
Edric scoffed and tried to stand. Vines sprang from Thistle’s hands, tying him to the chair.
“Nuh uh uh,” I chided, slowly drawing my dagger.
Edric’s gaze tracked the blade. I slammed the dagger down beside his hand, biting deep into the wood of the armrest. He flinched so hard the chair rocked.
“One more question.” I leaned forward, crowding his space. “Did you strike her?”
His eyes darted to Quinn. I looked over my shoulder. She stood a step behind me, drowning in that ridiculous wedding gown.
She swallowed once, hard—and nodded.
That was all I needed.
I wrenched the blade from the wood and buried it through Edric’s hand before he could draw breath. His scream ripped through the chamber as the dagger pinned his hand to the armrest. Blood welled around the wound.
“That,” I said, my voice deadly calm, “was for laying a hand on her.”
He panted, eyes wild—then gave a bark of unhinged laughter. “Oh, it was much more than a hand,” he rasped. “Tell your little knight how you whimpered for me, Quinnie. How I reclaimed what’s mine.”
The air fractured.
Every hair on my body stood on end.
He hadn’t said the words, but I knew exactly what he was implying. I turned to her. She stared at the floor.
“Quinn,” I said, tone as gentle as I could make it. “What happened?” When she didn’t answer, I took a step closer. “Please.”
