“Tell me about him.” Hannah motioned toward a cushioned chair near the fireplace, gesturing for Gideon to sit. “This Stormbourne heir.”

“Her.” Gideon took his seat as Hannah and Brahm sat across from him, sharing a settee covered in leather as soft as butter. “The heir is a girl. Her name is Evelyn. Evie.”

“A girl?” Hannah asked.

Gideon nodded.

She glanced at her brother. “Did you know?”

“I might’ve heard rumors.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” She folded her arms over her chest and scowled.

“What difference does it make?”

“It changes everything.” Hannah brushed her skirts smooth and glanced at Gideon from the corner of her eye, watching for hints, clues, anything she could use to crack his granite façade. “Do I befriend the Stormbourne heir, or do I seduce them? It matters.”

Brahm snorted. “To get your way, dear sister, you’d happily do whatever it took.”

But what would it take to get Gideon, she wondered. He would fall for none of her usual tricks and flirtations—no pretty dresses and pouting lips. “So her name is Evelyn. What else can you tell us about her?”

Gideon’s gaze went unfocused, and he seemed to stare at some far-off place. “She’s impetuous, spoiled, naïve, and trusting to a fault.” His eyes hardened. “But she’s brave. Intrepid. Resourceful. She underestimates herself too often. There’s a lot of raw power inside her. If she ever learned how to tap into it, she’d be formidable.”

In response to Gideon’s tone and mood, something he likely wasn’t aware he conveyed, Hannah sat up straighter and raised her chin. Gideon obviously cared for this girl—maybe more than cared for her. Stupid boy. Doesn’t he know better than to keep his feelings out of it? Maybe he’s not such a good spy after all. “Sounds like Aodan will soon be a very lucky boy.” She scowled. “And Daeg will be unstoppable.”

Brahm exhaled and sagged against the back of the settee, rubbing the uneven spot in his nose from a break that hadn’t been properly set. Hannah frowned, remembering the punch that had left Brahm with that scar. She’d made him train twice as hard as usual the week after that fight. Even though he’d won, it had been close. Too close.

“Why do you help him, Gid?” Brahm asked. “You know what kind of man Daeg is. Why would you want him to have that kind of power?”

Gideon’s gaze sharpened. His posture tensed.

“Loyalty.” Hannah squinted, studying Gideon like a biological specimen at a scientific lecture. “Gideon is loyal, and if it weren’t for Daeg, he’d have grown up on the streets. Penniless. Homeless. No safe place to keep his sister.” She gave Brahm a saccharine smile and batted her lashes. “Oh, the things one is willing to do to care for a beloved sibling.” She turned the syrupy smile on Gideon. “Even betray someone under your protection, someone who trusts you. Someone who might even love you.”

Gideon rocketed from his seat, his expression as dark as storm clouds. “I didn’t come here to argue my character or defend Daeg’s.”

With careful grace, Hannah stood and faced him. Her voice was quiet, her tone soft. “Then why did you come?”

“I’m looking for my father. Aodan said he’s not working for Daeg anymore. I need to know where he is.”

Hannah swallowed her elation before she gave herself away. She’d found it—the chink in Gideon’s armor. One she could actually use. A bet she had made some time ago was finally going to pay off. It was her next move in a long, complex game that Daeg wasn’t even aware he was playing. “I know exactly where your father is.”

Gideon froze, every muscle turning to stone. “Tell me.”

“Oh, I can do better than that.” Old habits were difficult to abandon, and Hannah couldn’t help fluttering her lashes and adding a pout to her lips. “I can show you.” She waggled a finger. “Come, Gideon. Follow me.”

Chapter 9

“It was the beginning of the end for Gideon and Daeg.” Hannah braced herself as the carriage jolted over a rut in the road. “I was right that loyalty drives Gideon—drives him like a relentless machine. He was loyal to Daeg, but you”—she pointed at me—“had already begun to shake those foundations. Gideon had begun questioning himself, questioning his purpose. He just needed a little push in the right direction.”

“And that push was his father?” I asked.

Hannah nodded. “Daeg cast Gideon’s father aside like garbage. I picked him up, brushed him off, and gave him a position in our stables. Gideon’s relationship with his father has always been difficult. But to see what Daeg had done to him....” Hannah fell silent, letting me draw my own conclusions.

For someone like Gideon, someone already teetering on the line, trying to decide on which side his devotion truly lay, I imagined finding out Lord Daeg had abandoned his father had felt like an unforgiveable betrayal. Hannah’s story filled in the missing piece of a puzzle, explaining the final element that had tipped Gideon’s loyalty in my favor.

“His father was in bad shape,” Brahm said. His brows drew down, and he fisted his fingers together, popping his big, scarred knuckles in an anxious rhythm. “Hannah will say we hired him to work in our stables, but the truth is we gave him a comfortable place to spend his final days. Gideon’s father isn’t long for this world.”

Hot tears rose in my eyes. I bit my lip to keep it from quivering. Taking several deep breaths, I swallowed my grief. Now was not the time to mourn lost fathers. I’d save my empathy for Gideon, when I could share it with him and no one else. I cleared by throat. “Gideon was indebted to you for taking care of his father.”

The carriage lurched and swayed again, and the rumble of the wheels amplified. I pushed aside the curtain and peered out. We had entered the outskirts of Steinerland, leaving the forest’s dirt road for ones paved in cobblestone. “And you used Gideon’s vulnerability to get to me.”

“And where would you be if I hadn’t?”

I rolled my eyes. “You didn’t get enough information about me from Gideon if you don’t know the answer to that question.”

“Yes, we’ve heard you can be very resourceful.” She fluttered her fingers as if waving away a pesky gnat. “Scrubbing dishes in Espiritolan bars and mechanical circuses might keep you sheltered and fed, but it’ll never get you your throne back.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “What do you know about it?”

“There’s more than one kind of queen in this world.” She chuckled coldly. “And if you ever want to be one of us, you’ll need my help.”

One of us? I never wanted to be like her, scheming and manipulative. But what other way was there, when the forces acting against me were so corrupt? Gideon’s note had said his contact had more information for me. I’d presumed Hannah and Brahm were the ones who were going to provide it. But would they first make me sell my soul to get that information? “Tell me what you expect me to do.”

The rumble of our wheels quieted as our carriage slowed. Hannah brushed her blond hair back from her shoulder and smoothed her skirts. “We’ll talk later, after you get settled.” She wrinkled her nose. “And after you’ve had a bath.”

***

My stomach had stopped grumbling and started roaring by the time I finished bathing and changing into a clean set of clothes. Hannah might’ve known how to get under my skin, but she also seemed to be highly observant. Instead of a dress or skirts, she’d provided a pair of narrow black trousers, a long, blowsy tunic, and a wide leather belt. I wondered if the outfit had come from Hannah’s closet, or if she had arranged a wardrobe for me in anticipation of my visit.

A servant led me from my small, cozy guestroom into the dining room—an elegant space trimmed in gilded flourishes and twinkling crystal. The Schulzes had money, and they apparently liked to flaunt it. Niffin and Malita had already taken seats across from Brahm at a long table loaded with plates and bowls that steamed enticingly, scenting the air with savory spices: dill, garlic, and sage. But the Schulzes could’ve served raw frog, and I would’ve eaten it.

Brahm looked handsome and less formidable than the first time I’d seen him. Cobalt velvet trimmed the lapels of his dark jacket, and linen as white as snow circled his neck. His attire was much finer than the clothes he’d worn on the train. Perhaps he’d dressed rougher to draw less attention. A rich man in a third-class compartment would’ve raised questions he’d undoubtedly wanted to avoid.

Hannah had not yet arrived, and two empty plates sat on the table on either side of Brahm. A footman drew out a chair on his left. I sat as another servant poured wine into my glass. Catching Malita’s eye, I smiled. She smiled back, and I wondered what she was thinking. Had Hannah been as gracious to my friends as she’d been to me?

Malita wore a simple gown of pale-green silk, and she’d wrapped a shimmering gold scarf around her hair. Niffin had a fresh shirt and neck cloth. He’d combed his hair back. The black dye had faded, and he looked more like his old self. Guess I can’t fault Hannah’s hospitality so far.

My stomach rumbled again, and Brahm gave me a knowing look. He patted his belly. “I know exactly how you feel. Hannah should be here any minute. She’s keen on making grand entrances.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, which saved me from embarrassing myself as Hannah strode into the room, resplendent in another blue gown matching her eyes and revealing her slim collarbones. Gracefully, she settled into her chair and raised her wine glass. “Let’s toast, shall we?”

I glanced at Malita, and she shrugged at me as we all raised our glasses.

“To crowns,” Hannah said. “Both to restoring ones that are well deserved and removing the ones that aren’t. Cheers.”

The rest of us muttered cheers in response, and Hannah drained her glass.

I set down my goblet and cleared my throat. “My father never wore a crown. Neither did my grandfather.”