He’d needed this so badly. For someone to give a damn, to stand by him, even if that would start an all-out war.

The press of her pregnancy was a brutal reminder, though. Everything had a consequence. He’d learned that with Charlie. He opened his eyes and found Blade watching. “I can’t stay.”

“What?” Honoria lifted her head.

“The rookery defenses haven’t been completed.” He couldn’t look at her. To do that would somehow break him. “And the weapons you’ve stockpiled aren’t enough. Not yet. He’ll throw everything he has at you. Fifty years ago, when you forced the Echelon out of the rookeries, they learned from that mistake. They won’t misjudge you—or the people here—again. I can’t stay. I can’t give him an excuse to push this to war.” Not a single expression flickered over Blade’s face. “Damn you, look at her. She could give birth at any moment.”

“You don’t think I know that?” For the first time, Blade’s composure wavered.

“So it’s true,” the Duchess of Casavian whispered. “You’re planning to overthrow the prince consort.”

Blade shot her a look that had Leo stepping between them. He’d acted before he thought about it, poised on the balls of his feet.

They all noticed. Blade shared a glance with Honoria that Leo couldn’t read.

“Perhaps we should all take the night to think about it,” Honoria suggested. “No matter what the decision, one thing is eminently clear. The duchess cannot be released, not yet.”

“Don’t ’ave to keep ’er ’ere, either.”

The words were deadly soft. A threat. Leo stiffened. “I brought her into this, and I will see her out of it. Safely.”

Blade gave him a long, slow look. “She stabbed you inna back once. Don’t you forget that.”

“I won’t.” Never again. “But she’s my hostage. Not yours.”

“Fine. ’Onor, see ’em to some rooms to freshen up. You oughta get some rest whilst I go rouse the lads. We’ll see what the prince consort’s first move is, and work out ’ow this gets played.”

* * *

The small room they took her to was surprisingly clean and smelled like beeswax. Mina stumbled over the stoop and jerked to a halt. Barrons murmured something under his breath at the tall giant who’d bundled her here—Rip, she thought he’d called him—then stepped inside and shut the door behind them.

Alone together.

Mina wrapped her arms around herself. So much was going through her mind, but in a day of revelations, the one that was most startling was the fact that both Barrons and Blade did indeed seem to be working to overthrow the prince consort.

All these years, she and the queen had thought themselves alone, maneuvering pieces into play until they finally had enough money and resources to begin actively working against the prince consort. The humanist movement had already been in place, so Mina had simply started pushing some much-needed funds their way and helping with recruitment, until she’d slowly become the heart of the movement.

Did she dare trust Barrons with the truth? That they were working on the same side? Mina opened her mouth, then shut it again. Too many years and too many secrets made her cautious. She needed to know more before she committed herself to this.

And for the first time, she felt desperately alone. She and Alexandra had always worked together on this. Any step she made was a threat against the queen herself, if handled incorrectly.

After all, neither Barrons nor Blade had made mention of who they intended to see in power once the prince consort was overthrown. And Barrons… He was not himself, that much was clear. There was no sign of the man who’d managed to sneak beneath her defenses. The man who’d dried her off so tenderly and whispered in her ear of Paris. She wanted that man back. He was just a shell now. Weary. Exhausted. Lashing out at her. Potentially dangerous.

“I know what it must seem like,” she said quietly. “But I want you to know that I never betrayed you.”

“No?”

Just that. Mina took a deep breath. “It’s my fault indirectly. I set my man-of-affairs, Gow, to…to finding something I could use against you. Gow must have gone to the prince consort with the information I’d requested.”

“Did you wish to ruin me so badly?”

“I-I—” She didn’t know what to say. There was a bitter taste in her mouth, and how could she explain her actions when she didn’t truly understand them herself? You frighten me didn’t seem to be answer enough.

Those dark eyes watched her, drawing their own conclusions, no doubt. Mouth thinning, he turned away, examining the barred windows. “The problem with trust is that once it’s broken, it’s very difficult to restore again. Do you know, you almost look guilty. And I almost believe you.” Barrons looked up, his voice turning to smoked honey. “But I don’t.”

“What do you intend to do to me?”

“Blade’s correct. You know too much now.”

“I can’t stay here. I have to go back.”

“Why? Lord Branson’s ball tomorrow night? Or an appointment with your milliner in the morning?”

She backed away, keeping a chair between them. “You wouldn’t understand.” Without her, Alexa had no one to truly protect her. And she’d been in such a rare mood this morning—to actually condemn Barrons to death when the prince consort requested it, without even challenging him. That wasn’t the woman that Mina knew. He’d done something to her. Hurt her. The bruises she’d left on her queen hadn’t been enough.

“Please,” she said, seeing no other way out of this. “I’ll do anything you want. Just let me go.”

Barrons’s eyes became half-lidded at her words. “Anything?” he murmured, tipping the chair out of his way and stepping toward her.

Mina’s back hit the wall as his hand slid around her throat, fingers stroking the pulse of her carotid. Those black eyes were bottomless, empty chasms where she stared directly into the face of his hunger as he gave himself over to his darker side. Her throat went dry, heat blazing behind her eyes as her own hunger ascended. The room went dark as her vision changed, becoming sharper.

Too long since she’d last sipped some blood, combined with a horrendous day. There’d been no time to grieve for Boadicea, not truly, and the rush and excitement of their escape from the Ivory Tower had stirred her blood. Saliva wet her mouth. She wanted blood. Wanted it with a fierce ache.