ETAN

It was a ploy, and he knew it. But a dangerous one. She sought to intimidate, but she bore the confidence of one who did not make empty threats.

Etan let his lips twist. "Feel your weaves as I say this," he said quietly. "You claim concern for Ayleth's wellbeing and heart—and if you are true, we share that burden. So, know this: If you were to kill me, you would break your daughter's spirit. You would tear her apart limb-from-limb. We are one. You cannot steal that. If you destroy me I take to eternity with a clear conscience and wait for her to arrive. But her? You only destroy her and force her to live a hollow life, empty of the truest love she knows she has ever received."

The Queen blinked. Her face was remarkably still, but so was the rest of her, as if she'd suffered a blow and was waiting to see if she might breathe.

Etan waited. Like a spider in the corner, he didn't take his eyes off her.

"I might be able to help you," she said finally. "But first I need two more answers, and then we will discuss where we go from here."

"Very well then, ask."

She glared at his short tone, but didn't comment. "Does any other woman have a hold on you—whether you would choose her or not, whether they are present here or not, can anyone lay claim to you or your heart?"

"No. No one."

"Does anyone wish to have you? You have spent hours with the other heirs and I have seen you at Court. There are women here who would choose you given half the chance. Do you measure any of them as truly… attached? Who might grieve this announcement?"

Etan opened his mouth to say, 'none,' but the weaves began to tighten on his skin uncomfortably for the first time, and a small voice in the back of his head held him to caution. He cleared his throat while the Queen waited.

"There are none that I would choose to be attached to," he ground out. "Am I to be held responsible if a woman finds me attractive?"

"Do not dodge the question," she snapped, and the weaves yanked at him.

Etan tensed. "There are no women that I have given agreement to, or even implied an attachment."

Her eye flashed. "However?"

"However… Lady Sarya Playne is a friend and has… I have sensed that were things different, she may wish to see our relationship develop. There may be others that I am unaware of. There are certainly others that have made themselves available. But I have turned them all down. And Sarya understands that I am… not hers."

The Queen nodded. "Could she bring accusation against you on the Day of Unions?"

Etan's eyes narrowed. What was she getting at? The Day of Unions—the day in which any heirs or nobles of the Royal Court who had made an alliance and planned to marry while at the Festival of Peace would announce their betrothals or intentions—had a rarely-used, but still recognized tradition: If an heir was found to be breaching the Peace Accord through sowing division between nations by making unfulfilled promises or marriage contracts, and the accusing Kingdom could prove the breach, the Heir who was found guilty would be denounced, and their Kingdom struck from the record of the Peace Accord.

Etan shook his head slowly. "No matter what feelings she may carry, Lady Playne is of no confusion as to my position in regards to her, and we have never discussed a union between us or our nations."

There was no bite from the weaves. Etan swallowed a spiteful smile. He was true. Whether she wanted to believe it or not, he was true. "I love your daughter with everything within me, Your Highness," he said, softening his voice intentionally. "Trust me, no one understands better than I what a shitshow this could become. When I first realized who Ayleth was, I wanted to resist because of the potential disaster our union could cause. But I cannot deny it. She is the light of my soul—the woman created for me, and now my wife. You will not disconnect us. The question is whether or not you are convinced and, if so, whether you will advocate for us with the King?

"Your appearance has already thwarted our plan—we wished to tell both you and my mother together, so that there would not be any chance of one nation being advantaged, or disadvantaged, but an earlier understanding. But I see you already knew… so you must have thought about this at some length. So tell me, Highness, do you believe me? Do you accept that my feelings for her are real? And if so, will you help us?"

The Queen sat back and brought one elegant hand up, tapping her lip with one finger as she regarded him.

"I believe you," she said finally. He felt the weaves fade, sliding away even as they weakened, the unholy light in her eyes fading with them.

Etan breathed slightly easier. But her second response was far more important. He didn't react or respond, but waited.

She let go of a long slow breath. Etan's eyes narrowed, but when he spoke, her voice was still calm.

"Yesterday, when I heard of your relationship, I was so enraged, and yet also afraid—for my daughter, and for my family as a whole. I love Ayleth, and her father does as well. But his temper… I feared that were he to learn of this in the wrong way, his punishment would be swift, and irrevocable. I feared that she would be removed from me not by you, but by her father's pride. And I was… beyond anger.

"Who were you, I thought, to touch what belonged to me? To sully my daughter? To take her—and without our knowledge?" Then she met his eyes and the fire flashed in her eyes. "Who were you? And so I decided then…" she leaned forward, jaw pushed forward as she snarled through her teeth. "I will not have my daughter taken from me because of a flashy Prince with big shoulders. I will not have her stolen by a barbarian Prince!"