My heart goes to my throat and I fear I might be sick, right here in front of everyone.
“You knew I’d come?” I whisper down at Bram.
Bram examines the shiny tip of his dagger. “You’re not nearly as clever as you think.”
Which means Rhion told him, which means my friends aren’t safe. My mind spins.
“I’ve only ever wanted what’s best for everyone.” Bram addresses the crowd now. “But it seems even my best-laid plans have unintended consequences. Two kingdoms, two queens seemed a rather neat arrangement, but I get the impression the Benton sisters are unhappy with the tangled web we’ve found ourselves in.
“Despite these temporary negative feelings, it’s a great pleasure to have my people here to witness a joyous announcement. It seems we’ve found ourselves in quite a conundrum, but never fear, as I have a solution.”
The crowd cheers and Bram preens.
I stare across the dais at Emmett and silently beg him to look up at me, but he’s as still and useless as a statue.
“No—” I open my mouth to protest, so used to lying to keep Bram’s temper at bay that it’s my instinct to soothe him. My corset bites into the flesh of my waist.
He slams the tip of his knife into the arm of his throne, splintering the wood beneath. “Let me finish!” He takes a breath and composes himself. “As I was saying, the situation is untenable. Wecan’t go on with all this—” He pauses and waves his knife mindlessly, searching for the right word. “Scheming.It leaves a bad taste in one’s mouth, does it not?”
I look to Bram, ignoring the crowd. “I only missed my sister,” I lie, the desperation to placate him clawing at me. It would be easier if he were angry, but this eerie calm is so much worse. The boning of my corset seems to grow tighter, and I suck in an uneasy breath.
“Let’s not do that, Ivy,” Bram dismisses me. “I have a plan to solve all of this, and it’s going to be so much fun.”
Dread curdles in my stomach. Lydia reaches over and clutches my sweaty hand.
“I got the idea from my mother, actually,” Bram explains. “She held a series of games to help me identify the most suitable candidate for an English wife. Why not do the same to identify who will be the best queen of the Otherworld?”
I’m going to be sick. The edges of my vision blur in and out as his words settle.More games.
“No, please, darling, let’s go back to London and things can continue on as they ever were.” I fight to keep my voice sweet and steady. There’s no mistaking it this time—my corsetsqueezes, leaving me gasping.
Bram shakes his head. “It’s impractical to have two wives. A folly of ambition. The people should have one queen.”
“Long live the queen!” a few in the crowd shout, and I know it’s not me they mean.
Bram’s nostrils flare. “I am your king!” he snarls. The audience cowers and Lydia looks away, embarrassed.
“No, it makes sense,” I say gently. “Lydia is such a perfect queen here, and I am so useful to you back home in England. You need usboth.” My corset constricts again, the pressure on my lungs nearly unbearable.
“I need you both?” he replies, voice thick with sarcasm. “So I can spend the rest of your lives watching you scheme behind my back? You have more loyalty to each other than you do to me, your husband. It’s disgusting.”
“But—” I protest. I can’t take a full breath, so the words die in my throat.
For the first time, Emmett glances to me, worried, but just as quickly looks away, and his stony expression returns.
Bram sighs and tips his head back. “Do you ever stop talking?”
I sputter, all at once ashamed and terrified and filled with rage.
“What will happen?” Lydia asks, so quietly it’s nearly a whisper.
Bram looks up at her. “What?”
Lydia doesn’t look up. “What will happen to the one who doesn’t win?”
Bram shrugs. “What is it your English aristocracy does? The loser will get a house in some backwater corner of the country and you can carry out the rest of your days living like royalty in the middle of a sheep pasture.”
I hear the unsaid:No matter what happens, you will never see your sister again.I stopped Mor’s games once; surely I can do it again.
