My heartbeat roared in my ears as Adelaide smiled up at me in the moonlight. But there was something about being cornered that finally served to rein in my spiralling thoughts.

"Then I suppose we'd best go speak to my father," I said, sliding my hands into my pockets.

Adelaide shook her head, adamant. "So you can wheedle your way out of this? Absolutely not. You will announce our betrothal now, in front of the entire court."

Quickly, before she could see the wheels turning in my head, I made a decision. There were only two ways out of this: to play along, or to refuse and hope she wasn't as dangerous as she thought. Dulciana had clearly not told her about Beatriz, otherwise I know Adelaide would've named her, which meant she didn't know about my fictional marriage either. I trusted Dulciana not to hinge her country's military hopes on Adelaide's romantic prospects, but I didn't trust Adelaide not to lie if it meant seeing Beatriz' life ended. She was the type to do everything in her power to see any wife of mine—pretend or not—killed.

Which meant I had to play along. As much as it grated against my every last nerve, I had no other choice. Not when Beatriz' life hung in the balance. Not when flinging more truth in Adelaide's face would only rile her further.

"Then don't come crying to me when he annuls the betrothal." I shrugged. "You saw what my father did to Libby and Andrew when my brother failed to seek his approval first."

A muscle twitched in her face at the mention of my future sister-in-law, the only crack in her pleasant facade. One I couldn't see past to determine if she knew I was lying.

My father would never step in the way of a marriage to Adelaide—it would tie Umberwood to the throne as surely as his marrying Mother had kept Kentshire. But I prayed Adelaide was single-minded enough not to think my father's motives through .

Thankfully, she was.

"Fine," she said, her lips pressing into a line. "But I will be in the room when you tell them."

"Shall we, then?" I said coldly, gesturing to the ball.

She tipped her chin up and wiped everything sour from her face when I held the terrace door open for her. I hated the sly, adoring looks she flung at me as heads turned our way, and the way she pressed herself against my arm in a bid to paint the picture she so desired: the two of us, happily in love, headed to ask my parents for permission to marry.

Libby saw us first. She leaned over to whisper something into Andrew's ear, and he paused, mid-conversation with an older couple as his eyes locked with mine. We were all the way across the room, but I hoped he could read my expression. My desperation.

I needed help. I needed allies. I needed someone to warn my parents before Adelaide snared them in her web of lies.

Thankfully, my brother was closer to my parents' thrones. He'd already excused himself from his conversation and bent over my mother's shoulder to whisper something by the time Adelaide and I reached the foot of the dais. I bought my brother a few extra seconds as I cleared my throat with exaggerated gusto.

"Yes?" Father said, his eyes sliding between me and Adelaide. Calculating already. Plotting already.

"We would like a word with you both," I said, bowing to them. Adelaide sank into a painfully graceful curtsey with a blush staining her cheeks. The courtiers around us had taken notice, and whispers were already rippling behind fans and gloved hands.

"Of course," Mother said, interrupting whatever Father had opened his mouth to say with a touch to his wrist. He glanced sidelong at her, but all she did was smile warmly at Adelaide.

A shoot of hope took root in my chest when I realized it wasn't reaching her eyes.

Adelaide took her time climbing the dais steps, even pausing to brush a wrinkle from her skirts right before the thrones, where the entire ballroom could see her. I was careful to keep my face placid and unruffled. Let the court think what they wanted. If her spy was among them, perhaps playing along would buy Beatriz more time.

"Well?" Father said, after the ballroom doors had clanged shut behind him. Andrew stood just behind him and mother, his expression as completely unreadable as Father's. At least I had one ally with me now.

"I would like to propose marriage to Adelaide." The words tasted like ash. So vile that I almost choked on them.

Beside me, her chest swelled as she held her breath.

"Have you asked her father for permission?" Mother asked, her smile still in place. When her eyes met mine though, my shoulders sagged with relief.

She knew. She knew, and she was trying to help me.

"That won't be necessary," Adelaide said, seizing my hand and leaning into me again. "I accept."

"I did not raise you to flout such customs, Thomas," Mother said, then graced Adelaide with another smile. "I'm certain your father will agree, but I will not let my son debase you so by neglecting such a time-honoured tradition."

Adelaide's mouth popped open, then snapped closed as Mother stared her down with a smile. The tension was so thick in the air that I half expected someone to draw a sword and start shouting when I realized how much I'd forgotten about these court games. No poisons and knives here, just backstabbing words and manipulation concealed as kindness.

"He's all the way in Umberwood," Adelaide said finally, with her own syrupy sweet smile. "Surely my mother's approval will do. She's just outside"

Father cleared his throat. "I will discuss the terms of such a proposal with the Earl of Umberwood before I agree to any such arrangement."

Even Andrew looked over at him in shock. But the relief that weakened my knees was shortlived with the way Father's green eyes held mine.

"I'd like a word with my son," he said, then swept his ermine-lined cloak around and strode down the hallway.

"Wait here, Adelaide," Mother said kindly, then linked her arm with mine and pulled me down the hall after Father.

"What is going on?" Andrew muttered, falling in beside me. Mother hushed him, until the three of us were safely behind the closed door to Father's study. He'd already reached for the whiskey decanter and the crystal clinked before he turned around to face us.

"What in Fates' name have you done now?" he demanded.

I felt about as small as an ant under the weight of his stare. But I refused to shrink. I would not cower now, not when it had finally come to this.

"Graham," Mother warned.

Father's jaw muscle worked as he took a sip of his whiskey. His tone barely masked the explosion brewing within him. "This is preposterous. Giles warned us that she was a spy, and now he wants to propose to her?"

"I had no choice," I said through gritted teeth.

"So she played you into a corner then?"

Shame heated my cheeks. "Yes, but—"

"There is no but." Father turned away with an irritated shake of his head. "She played you into a corner, and now you need me to clean up your mess, as usual."

"There is more to the story," Andrew ventured.

"Then let's have it," Father said to the window, with another sip of whiskey.

Mother gave me reassuring squeeze, her arm still knit around mine. I inhaled a steeling breath, and launched into the story.

I told them about Relizia, about Dulciana, about the late king and how Dulciana had poisoned him to seize the throne. I shared how Beatriz had saved me, and the secret of Frederico's troops, which garnered little more than another sip of whiskey from my father. and I told them about the Vareinnian king's decision. I told them about Beatriz, about how I'd fallen in love, and how I'd tried to save her life by bargaining with Dulciana and how Adelaide factored into all of it. I left out the false marriage bit though, wary that I hadn't asked for Father's permission before claiming Beatriz as my wife. I didn't want him seizing on that as a means to manipulate me.

"So if you hadn't been caught, you would've brought the princess back and fulfilled the bargain after all," Father mused to himself, finally turning back around to face me. "At least you tried to do something right."

I ground my teeth at the insinuation that falling in love with Beatriz had anything to do with a treaty.

"That is why I cannot marry Adelaide, but I cannot spurn her either," I managed. "Not until I know who else has ties to Dulciana."

"Then it's simple," Mother said, from where she'd taken a seat as I'd paced and bared my heart. "If we can't throw her in the dungeon, then we imprison her another way. A way she won't recognize."

Father massaged the bridge of his nose. "Will you never let me live that down?"

"Perhaps if you ensure that Sam Winters cannot come for his daughter as he came for me, then I'll be willing to let it go," Mother fired back.

"What are you propsing, then?" Andrew asked, from where he leaned against the wall beside the doorway.

"That we keep our enemies closer than our friends," Mother said. "We will give Adelaide rooms in the royal quarters and lead her into believing that she will have her way. But really, we'll do it to ensure that she's never unsupervised. She will spend her days with me and Libby, under the pretense that she should be learning the same things about running a court, and Thomas will be at her side in the evenings. Only Lissa will attend to her, no one else. She will have no contact with the outside world that we cannot secretly screen. Whoever asks to see her, whoever she corresponds with—all of that will tell us who might be the other Ardalonian spy."

I collapsed into one of the leather armchairs with a whomp. Fates, I'd missed my mother.

Father grunted, but at least he set down his whiskey. "And what of Sam and Umberwood? There will be fallout from slighting his daughter so publicly."

"Leave Sam to me. And Cora too," Mother said. "What you ought to be worrying about it how you're going to help his son get his princess home."

I massaged my face, deciding I might as well lay it all out before they helped me come up with a plan. "They think she's my wife," I said, as I scraped a hand over my face.

"What?" Andrew, Mother, and Father all said in unison.

"That was how I bargained with Dulciana. I told her that Beatriz was my wife."

Mother pressed a hand to her mouth. "But...is she really?"

"Not yet," I replied.

Father had pressed his eyes closed. "Does anyone else know?"

"Only Ardalone's Prince Consort."

"We must keep it that way, understood?" Father held my gaze again. But it wasn't laced with disapproval anymore. No, now it was stern and brimming with determination.

I hated the hope that bubbled up inside of me. I hated the way I so quickly interpreted that look to mean that he would help. Worse, I hated the way the words leaped from my lips before I could stop them. "Will you help me?"

His jaw tensed and he turned away. "Find the Winters girl a room. And make sure no one else learns the truth."

My chest deflated. I pushed myself to my feet.

"I'll talk to him," Mother whispered when I helped her rise. "Go and pretend everything is all right." She rested a hand on my cheek.

Andrew closed the door behind us and our footsteps echoed in the silence. He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck before he reached for my arm to stop me before we turned back into the hallway where Adelaide lurked.

"I hadn't wanted to bring it up, not with...well, everything else going on," he said, waving back towards Father's study. "But I was hoping you would stand up with me."

"Stand up with you?" I asked slowly.

"In three weeks," Andrew said. "At my wedding. Will you do me the honor of being my best man?"

For the first time all evening, the smile that sprang to my lips was real. "Of course."