“He was a good person, Prince Cillian,” Haimish says, drawing her out of her thoughts. He tries to hide it, but she sees how his eyes keep going to Cliona in the crowd, as if drawn there by some invisible force.
“Yes, I believe he was,” Daphne says, then pauses. She chooses her next words carefully. “Bairre is a good person too. If anything were to happen to him, it would be disastrous.”
That gets his attention. He looks at her and raises his eyebrows, appearing bemused. “Your devotion to Prince Bairre is touching, Your Highness.”
“Is it?” Daphne asks, tilting her head. “And here I was thinking the same of your devotion to Cliona.”
Haimish goes rigid—Daphne doubts he even breathes. The only change in him is a flush that begins to work its way up his neck.
“Why, you’ve barely been able to stop looking at her all night. And she seems to be doing everything possible not to look at you. Which of your parents disapproves? I’d wager it’s her father. I’ve heard he’s very protective of her, and then there’s the matter of your loyal war hero father. Is that why you joined the rebellion? To prove you’re more than your father’s son?”
Haimish is quiet for a few more seconds, but then he surprises Daphne by smiling. “Something like that, I suppose,” he says. “How did you figure it out?”
She shrugs. “You underestimated me and got sloppy,” she says. “It was actually quite easy. Why would Cliona put you on my list? She must know your loyalty better than anyone.”
Haimish rubs the back of his neck. “We had a bet. I lost.”
“So it’s all a game to you, then,” Daphne says, rolling her eyes. “Believe it or not, I do have better things to do.”
“Relax,” he says with a snort. “It’s not all a game. Think of me as a test. Well done. The other two names are genuine.”
“Well, I doubt you can win over Lord Maives. He’s even closer to the king than your father is, not to mention the fact that he’s the queen’s brother-in-law. Trying would be foolish.”
Haimish makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, and Daphne forces herself not to roll her eyes. If he wants to try to turn Lord Maives, let him.
“And Rufus Cadringal?” he presses.
Daphne notes that Haimish doesn’t use Cadringal’s title. Lord Cadringal has only come into it recently, but she wonders if he and Haimish are familiar enough that it’s a difficult habit to break.
“Going by what I already know, I think it’s possible he’ll turn. But I haven’t met him yet, so it’s difficult to say for certain,” Daphne says, scanning the crowd. “Do you see him?”
“Unfortunately, they had some carriage issues and were delayed. I heard they sent a messenger ahead to say they would be arriving before dawn.”
“That is unfortunate,” Daphne agrees, the wheels in her head turning. Across the banquet hall, Bairre says something to Cliona before slipping away, outside the main doors. “Thank you for keeping me company, Haimish. If you don’t mind, I need to have a word with my fiancé.”
* * *
—
She finds Bairre leaning against the stone wall outside the banquet hall beside a lit sconce, his sharp-boned face thrown into high relief by the flickering flame. More than ever, he looks half feral, but when his eyes find hers, there’s a flash of softness—so quick she can’t be sure it ever existed at all.
“Are you hiding out here?” she asks him. “The highlanders don’t seem so bad, boisterous as they might be.”
He shakes his head, a smile flickering at his lips. “I just needed a minute,” he says. “What did you think of Haimish?” he asks her.
Daphne rolls her eyes to show how trying she found him, and Bairre barks out a laugh. “Fair enough,” he says.
“He did mention that one of the families—the Cadringals—was delayed. I thought we might take them hunting tomorrow as a way of making up for it,” she says.
“The Cadringals?” Bairre asks, his eyes lighting. “I haven’t seen Rufus since…well, since we both had different titles, I suppose.”
“Since you both lost loved ones,” she adds.
He nods, glancing away. “It’s not necessary, you know.”
“What?” Daphne asks.
“Trying to charm him,” Bairre says, shrugging. “The Cadringals were among the first families to swear fealty to my father, and Rufus was friends with both Cillian and me. We took lessons together whenever he was at court. He never treated me different than Cillian. If there’s anyone whose loyalty I can depend on, it’s him.”
Daphne considers this, adding it to the information she’s already gathered about Rufus Cadringal, along with what she’s gathered about Bairre as well—beneath the gruff exterior, there’s so much he doesn’t understand about his new position. If someone is trying to kill her, if someone already succeeded in killing Cillian, he very well may have a target on his back as well, and at the moment he’s an easy mark. She leans against the wall across from him.
“A strong ruler knows not to depend upon anyone’s loyalty, Bairre,” she says softly. He doesn’t know that Cliona is working against his family, after all. He doesn’t know about Daphne herself. His ignorance of her motives is a boon, but if he looks around the faces of the Friv courtiers and sees no enemies, it very well might get him killed. She feels certain her mother would see that as Daphne’s fault.
He shakes his head, not speaking for a moment.
“How do you do it?” he asks finally.
She frowns. “Do what?”
He shrugs. “Look at everyone around you and see how you can use them, how they can betray you. You and my father both, talking about the people in that room like their value can be tabulated on a sheet of paper, what they’re worth to the crown and to Friv. I always thought he was mercenary about it, but you might be even more so.”
Daphne watches him for a moment, trying to concoct a response. The courtesans in Bessemia taught her that the key to seduction was understanding what a man wanted and becoming that thing. But what does Bairre want her to be? Apologetic for her nature? Or is he truly in awe of it? That’s the challenge with Bairre—she never knows what he wants from her. So she decides to give him the truth for once.
“Unlike you, unlike your father even, I was raised to wear a crown from the moment I was born,” she says slowly. “You, on the other hand, were meant to lurk in the background, on the periphery. Maybe Cillian would have given you some kind of position on his council, given you a title, even, but you would never have had real power. And the thing you learn quickly when you have real power is that everyone, on some level, wants to take it from you. Oh, they might never act on it, might never even admit it to themselves, but they all want what you have. And that makes them easy to understand, easy to handle, but always, always, dangerous. Every single person in that room, Bairre, would stab us in the back if they thought they could get away with it.”