His hand brushed over the lace.
Xander watched as Cece’s eyes glazed, like she was trying to send herself somewhere far away. She tipped her head back and stared at the ceiling.
“Please stop,” she whispered.
“I’ll stop when you tell me what I want to know,” Vincent said, his gaze meeting Xander’s once again.
There was no winning now. Xander knew enough about interrogationsto know the pain would not end if she or Xander told Vincent what he wanted to know. Interrogations ended in death or escape, and Xander had no escape route for them. If Cece gave up what she knew, she’d no longer be valuable.
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “None of us do. Only Marcos knows for sure. We compartmentalized knowledge for this very reason. I would have told you when you were brutalizing Rainer if I knew.”
Vincent clicked his tongue. “Perhaps you all truly don’t know. Only one way to know for sure.” He stood straighter. “Enough games, Xander. Be a king for once in your pathetic life. Be a leader and make the right choice. Tell me now, or I’m going to take her to the other room and find out what all the fuss is about. I’ll fuck the information right out of her, and if that doesn’t work, I’ll let my men take turns until the truth comes out. There won’t be anything left of her.”
Rainer shook his head violently. He mumbled her name, but he was barely conscious.
Two kingdoms balanced on the edge of a knife.
Xander clenched his jaw so tightly he worried his teeth might shatter.
It was Cece or his kingdom. He could give Vincent the answer he craved and maybe that would be enough to protect Cece. Or he could keep his mouth shut and let this nightmare play out.
Xander hated being king. It was a thankless job that he could never do right because it was impossible to know what was right for so many people when he was just one man.
But he loved his home, and he knew that Vincent would destroy it.
Cece met his gaze, a faint, resigned smile on her lips, like she knew before he did what he would do. But he did not want this. He did not want to have to choose between seeing a person he loved hurt and the safety of his kingdom. There was no real greater good.
There was only the man he was now who had learned that being king was about surrendering selfish desires for the safety of his people. It felt wrong to choose anyone other than Cece, but he forced himself to stay still.
It should have felt like a triumph. Like he was finally evolving from Storm Prince to Storm King, but the victory felt hollow.
Cece nodded at Xander. It was barely perceptible. “Don’t,” she said, hervoice low enough that only he would hear. “Don’t take this on. You’re doing the right thing.”
“Very well,” Vincent huffed. “Get her ready for me, Grant.”
He shoved Cece into the arms of his guard, who dragged her kicking and screaming into the connecting dining room.
“Last chance to save her,” Vincent said, his dark eyes roaming from Xander to Rainer.
Rainer surged in his chair and it tipped to its side, landing him in a heap on the floor.
Vincent laughed and sauntered into the dining room, leaving the door open a crack—so they could hear, Xander realized.
A new terror gripped him as a scuffle echoed from the adjoining room. It all went briefly silent. And then the screaming started.
Teddy wanted to run toward the doorway—to do something, anything. His own emotions were tangled up in the memory. It was no ordinary memory magic. It was tossed with thoughts and emotions. He felt his father’s panic and grief, his bone-deep fear and love for Cecilia.
It’s just a memory. Not real.Teddy called to mind the cave. The dank smell, the oppressive darkness, the cool air.
He closed his eyes, and when he blinked them open, he was standing back in the cave.
The memory stone was still warm in his hand and glowing subtly.
It was worse than he’d ever imagined. Teddy’s father had drilled the lesson into him:You must always be king first. But Teddy had always thought that was driven by some projected desire to keep the throne. He had not fully believed until seeing that memory that his father did not want the seat, and yet he’d allowed the woman he loved so deeply to be hurt so he could keep it. Xander had kept the secret and sacrificed his love.
Teddy thought his father had never had to choose—that he’d sulked over choosing a wife after losing the love of his life—but he did not know how his father had chosen to be king at her peril. How Cecilia had looked at him with pride and fear when he did it. Teddyhadn’t known the way that look broke his father more than anything else had.
He’d expected to see the night that Isla left, but he knew all at once why Endros had chosen this memory. The god of war was trying to rattle Teddy off the throne. He’d seen Teddy in that interrogation and had him pegged immediately. The god knew fear and how to amplify it. Endros knew how to mark an opponent’s weakness the way all great warriors did.
