“I wanted to talk to Koldo,” she answered.
“She has just returned from the Pyrenee border.” Relief swept through Amarande—a return meant they were not actively at war. Though Dowager Queen Inés surely had a plan, and a delay was a strategy in itself. “The general would have come herself if I had not convinced her I could handle the chore.”
Amarande had so many questions. But she simply asked, “You do not call Koldo ‘Mother’?”
“I do not know her as my mother.” He tilted his chin upward. “I do not know her at all.”
The princess arched a brow. “I know her very well and I highly doubt she sent you alone, asvaluableas you are. How many guards are behind that door? Two at least. Possibly four?”
He did not back down. “Sister, please take off your boots or I shall slice through the laces.”
“You know me less than the woman you do not call Mother. Do not call me Sister.”
A flicker of something that might have been hurt reflected in his sea-glass eyes. “Amarande,please take off your boots or I shall slice through the laces.”
She grinned. “I’d love to see you try.”
Ferdinand drew his dagger. Left-handed.Interesting. That is something Father was not.
As he took a step forward, the princess unlooped her arms from around her knees. “Do you know how to use that thing?”
“Of course.”
“I will be the judge of that.”
Ignoring her, Ferdinand advanced, and the moment he was in range Amarande’s boot struck out and made jarring contact with his kneecap. He stumbled back but did not fall. His auburn brows pulled together. “Amarande, don’t make this more difficult than it has to be.”
“You’ve already locked me away yet you plan to disarm me. What possible harm can my knife do under lock and key?”
Ferdinand glanced downward for the barest of moments. “We don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
“I would never.” Amarande drew into herself. “And why would thatworry you anyway? It would benefit you if I bled out in this room. Much easier to bury the secrets of the dead than manage the imprisonment of a living threat.”
“Is that really what you think I want?” His voice lowered, thrumming with frustration. Ferdinand took a step forward, fingers tight on the dagger. “My world has opened up. I know of my father, my true mother, my sister. I want to know everything. We have just met, Amarande, but the last thing I see you as is a threat.”
“That is your mistake.”
When she kicked out this time, Ferdinand was ready, grabbing her boot and yanking at it, trying to wrest it off with both hands. She pulled back, but he held fast, even managing to keep the dagger in his grip. Amarande’s other foot shot out and clocked his left hand. His grip faltered, he dropped his dagger, and she drove her heel hard into his knee yet again.
He swore, clutched his knee, and fell backward. Amarande pounced, scooping up the dagger. She landed in a crouch, her front foot bare, her back foot planted behind her, still shod. Ferdinand struggled up, trying to right himself as he grabbed at his battered knee. “I don’t want to hurt you, Amarande; I swear it.”
“Then why did you bring the dagger?”
“Your reputation precedes you. I wasn’t going to use it.”
“You drew it.”
Ferdinand climbed to his feet, squared his shoulders, and looked directly into her eyes. “Amarande, believe me, when I found out my identity, I was far more interested in family than some title. That is precisely why I told you the truth—that Koldo is my mother, not Geneva—when we met. I do not wish to begin our relationship with a lie.”
“Oryou told me the truth because you believed I would not live long to shout it from the rooftops.” Amarande advanced with the blade. “If you are truly interested in having me as proper family, why not march me straight out of this cell this instant?”
The boy’s throat bobbed, but he did not appear panicked—his attention squarely, calmly, on the knife. He was trained. “The council believes the introduction of a royal heir who can gain access to power without marriage or an impossible law change will keep Ardenia safe and the situation will stabilize.”
As she’d deduced—the introduction of a male heir, even a bastard, would be an easier pill to swallow than an unmarried woman accepting her rightful power.
The patriarchy in a nutshell.
A week ago, the princess was chattel to be bought and sold along with her kingdom—she never imagined any situation where she wouldn’t be happy that scenario came to an end. And yet. “I fail to believe that is enough to halt war at every border. Pyrenee will still attack, no matter who is on our throne. Do not underestimate Inés; she has a plan.”
