Disappointment and rage rushed through me at the sight.

Teodric, my sweet, delicious, gorgeous Teodric, the man who occupied all my wet dreams and loving fantasies—

Was in bed with Ysac.

Should I have expected it after everything that happened in the past few days? Probably. But that hadn't stopped my poor heart from hoping. Dreaming. Yearning.

This was Ysac's room. I should have braced for the notion of finding Teodric in here with him, but I still couldn't fathom it. Nor did I comprehend why the foreign prince would choose Ysac over me.

That kiss they'd exchanged a few days ago...it appeared authentic, at the time. We'd all gotten chills from watching it—though mine were more from revulsion and jealousy—and yet...

I'd seen fake kisses before. I'd seen sultry situations turn out to be just that; nothing more than physical passion with a hefty dose of lust.

Hell, I'd experienced that myself with many partners.

But Teodric, oh, Teodric!

How I longed to experience him.

"Gentlemen," I said, perking up as best as I could considering the circumstances.

Finding them alone in here, most definitely naked under those sheets; it infuriated me. More so as I noticed they were positively glowing, and not only because of the light filtering in. No, they were both ecstatic, clearly happy to be next to one another in bed. Beaming at one another like soulmates.

I was supposed to be Teodric's soulmate.

And here I'd been hoping it was all a fluke. That they'd sleep together and Teodric would realize he only wanted me, the red-headed delight he'd met in Diamond Castle. That Ysac would realize he'd rather be chaste forever, or pursue some young, busty thing he found in the castle kitchens.

He was always stealing my prospects. Always going after the same men that I yearned for. And now he'd gone the ultimate mile to snag this exquisite foreigner I'd made it clear I was interested in.

Damn Ysac. Damn him and his perfect pectoral muscles gleaming in the sunlight. That luscious hair, like precious gold. Those hypnotic eyes that somehow made everyone take their clothes off for him.

Including me. Naturally, I'd had my fun with Ysac in the past. To see him here in all his glory should have roused some former feelings between us; but I was too peeved to let my lust get the best of me.

Ysac was pretty, but Teodric was perfection.

And that delicious monster, Ysac, got to indulge in him before me. He got to showcase his prowess, the skill he'd developed in his few years of training. For someone in his early twenties, he had quite the list of conquests.

Did Teodric know that? And might I use that information to my advantage?

He'd avoided Ysac all day yesterday, I knew. Avoided me, too, but that was because he had no idea how to handle me yet. I was a lot—a bundle of exquisiteness in rose-gold gowns—and it'd take him time to realize we were soulmates.

I'd give him that time, but I preferred if he didn't spend it naked with Ysac.

"What is it, Astrida?" Ysac's voice was hoarse, and he shifted the blankets about, as if to conceal something.

Oh, I knew what he was concealing under there. I was familiar with the width and length of his cock, having had it inside me a few times.

Now he offered it to Teodric? My Teodric?

I squinted towards where I presumed Teodric's legs were, immediately curious about what he hid under there. All I could see were his shoulders, broader than I'd envisioned. A chest devoid of hair, fairly well sculpted, little fatty flesh on it. There was a flush on his adorable cheeks, a luster in his dark eyes. His hair was a mess of curls I'd do anything to shrug my fingers through.

Scrumptious. Utterly irresistible.

Why did Otho have to be evil? I needed a love potion from him. One that would enable me to obtain Teodric by any means possible. I wasn't above asking for magical help if it got me what I craved.

And I craved Teodric so badly it was painful.

"Astrida?" Ysac was waving at me, and I snapped out of my desire for Teodric. "Why are you here?" The fluster in his timbre was obvious enough to bring me back to reality.

Back to the sordid matters at hand.

Gwenore.

My beloved sister, the newly proclaimed queen, had enlisted me as her messenger today. I'd have to inform her later how displeased I was by this delivery.

"Right, sorry." I shook myself off. "You're being summoned."

"Summoned?" Teodric's chirp drew me to his face, and the redness flaring up to his temples. He tugged the blankets up higher, as if to slide underneath them completely.

I wished I could slide next to him and caress those cheeks and kiss those lips and tell him it'd be all right. That I'd take better care of him—I'd had a handful more cocks in my mouth than Ysac had—and would be ever devoted to him. Forever.

"Astrida?" Ysac snapped his fingers this time, standing up to expose his nudity. His chiseled chest caught my eye, followed by the limpness of what I imagined was his erect cock, before I'd interrupted them.

Teodric gasped, throwing a pillow at Ysac as he hopped off the bed. "Darling, we're in a ladies' company!"

I snarled at his tender words towards Ysac. He should have been using such words towards me.

"Darling," Ysac chortled, "it's nothing she hasn't seen. She's not interested anymore."

It was my turn to sense heat gushing all over my face as I pulled my gaze away from Ysac's body. It was appetizing, but I'd had enough of it. After everything we'd been through, and after he stole Teodric from me? We'd never fuck again.

"You're summoned to the meeting room," I said, trying to recompose myself. Between Ysac's nakedness and the lack of Teodric's nakedness, I didn't know where to focus. I twisted around, facing the hallway, instead. "The queen is gathering her closest advisors and family and needs you both there as quickly as feasible."

With that, I shut the door behind myself and raced across the castle to my next destination: Tilda.

She was the only one who'd divined the depth of my feelings for Teodric. Others thought them surface-level, that I was only interested in his physique; but Tilda knew it was so much more.

I'd sensed a connection with him from the get-go. A link I could only assume was love at first sight. Well, unrequited love at first sight. My dearest Teodric was a fool who'd fallen for Ysac, but I'd find a way around that.

I arrived at Tilda's door and set my hand on the doorknob, but paused before pushing in. Tilda, though the youngest princess, was also known for her sexual antics. If possible, she was the most promiscuous of us all, but I always associated it with all the liquor she drank at her parties.

I knocked, unwilling to see any more naked bodies today, and definitely not my sister's.

"Yes? Come in, I'm decent," said Tilda, from inside.

I opened and crept in, sealing the door behind me. "Catastrophe," I whispered, pressing my back against the door, fanning myself.

"Rejected again?" Tilda was seated on a plush red velvet chair, a silk robe over her nightwear. She was sewing a decadent navy garment of some sort, but I couldn't tell what it was yet.

"How are you not bedding someone?" I said, sauntering deeper into the room. She'd redecorated to her newer tastes—fine dresses hanging as posters, reds and golds and mauves her color scheme. Since her stint in Hartland, she'd taken on all the traits of Otho's heart style, but she wasn't a criminal like him.

She scoffed, not looking up from her stitch-work. "Too much to do to go around bedding boys," she said, finding a good spot to stop. "We're princesses and ladies-in-waiting now, Astrida. How do you have time to keep running after Teodric?"

I scowled at her as I sat on the edge of her bed. "I'm not running after him."

"Ah, you may fool everyone else, but not me, dear sister." Tilda took the garment and draped it over the closest mannequin. She kept several in her room for all her creations, and I wondered how she didn't panic from their shadows at night, in the dark.

Tilda was much smarter and more insightful than she showed others. She'd been making her own outfits since she was a child, but also had a flair for spying and hearing information that didn't concern her. Often, she'd share with Gwenore and I; but as she grew into her teenage years, she kept all her secrets to herself.

"What is all this?" I watched as the garment flowed down to the ground, much longer than I'd thought. "That's quite a royal gown."

It was elegant, sophisticated; though it was in its early stages, I could tell it would be grand. A vision.

"It should be," she said, touching the fabric with a smile. "It's for Gwenore's coronation."

"Ah," I said, wrinkling my nose, "so princess, lady-in-waiting, and seamstress, is that correct?"

"Astrida," she cautioned, narrowing her gaze on me. Her eyes were the same icy blue as mine, but hers always pricked me the wrong way when she glowered at me.

"Only pointing out the obvious." I huffed, crossing my arms. "She's using us."

"We put her on that throne, remember?" Tilda flurried behind her changing panel. "We agreed that she was better suited for all this."

"Yes, but now I regret it."

Tilda threw her nightgown over the panel, then tilted her face around to frown at me. "You actually want to be queen?"

"No." I looked into my lap. "I want to wear the fancy dresses and get all the recognition, obviously."

"Astrida." Tilda reemerged, dressed in one of her velvety red numbers lined with spotted white fur. "You're a princess. You still wear fancy dresses and get recognition. But you don't have the responsibilities and don't have to confront room-fulls of dainty, dressed-up courtiers that have demands. Isn't that ideal?"

Something tugged inside me. A hunch that had I been the queen, had I won the vote, I might have won Teodric, too.

Tilda sat beside me, setting a hand on my thigh. "It wouldn't have mattered," she said, her tone smooth as she squeezed.

"What wouldn't have mattered?" I turned to her, eyebrows scrunched.

"Teodric." She gently moved a few stray hairs from my forehead. Her soft, round face was so innocent, so kind; no one knew the level of shrewdness she could sometimes hide under it all. But for the most part, Tilda was my favorite sister, and always had been. "Even if you'd been named queen, he wouldn't have come to you."

"How insightful," I said, shrugging away from her, repelled by her bluntness, much as I adored her for it most of the time. "I appreciate you bringing me down gently."

"It's the truth, Astrida, and you know it." She grabbed my arm before I could vault off the bed and out of reach. "His heart beats for Ysac, no matter how that disgusts you. You can't always get what you want."

I weaseled away from her and paraded to the door, my veins charging with annoyance and loathing. Not towards Tilda, but towards the fact that she was wrong.

I would get what I wanted. I always did. Even as a child, I knew how to work my wiles on everyone around me, to obtain whatever I desired. I requested fabrics for Tilda to fawn over, covered for Gwenore when she sought to explore the outdoors, and lavished myself in jewels and luxuries beyond any royal girl's dreams.

As an adult, I'd learned more about using my body and its language for whatever I wished for.

Teodric would be no exception.

"We're to attend a meeting with Gwenore," I said, pointing at the door.

Tilda caught up with me before I could dash off, to be alone before having to sit at my queen's side and heed her every command. "Not so fast," she said, linking our arms as she pinched me. "We're going together. I don't trust what kind of mischief you can get into when your heart is set on something it can't have."

I hated how correct she was.

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