Prologue

1687

Sébastien's heart hammered as he stood in the sitting room with Uncle and peered at the trinket on the wall. It wasn't the first time he'd seen it. The simple pentacle looked quite old as if the wood might crack. He didn't understand the symbols around the edge that a South Sea fairy had carved long ago.

"Do you like it?" asked Corentin.

"Yes. It's nice." Not really.

He wanted to go downstairs and meet Father in the stable for a horseback ride, not look at a flimsy collector's item. Jean hadn't been paying much attention to him lately, but he'd suggested that Sébastien come along if he wanted. It was the first time since Mother and Enzo's death that Jean had suggested they do anything together.

"You showed me," he said since Uncle seemed to be waiting for more of a response. "I remember you said it came from South Sea."

"Yes, and isn't it interesting?"

Uncle had already shown it to him before. He had bought it from a collector, and Sébastien didn't see the point because it was useless, and it wasn't even that pretty. It was something to collect dust. Maybe it had been intended to be a protection charm once or for luck, and he imagined it had hung on the wall of a commoner's home back when South Sea was a thriving Kingdom.

"Can I go?" If Sébastien waited much longer, he'd miss Father.

"Give it a closer look." Corentin took it from the wall.

"I want to go-"

Corentin pressed it into his hands. "I like this piece because even though it's simple, it has a certain elegance about it."

If he said so. Sébastien turned it over in his hands. The wood was brittle, and if he dropped it on the floor, it might break. He was tempted to drop it and see. If it didn't break, he could smash it with his boot. Uncle would punish him, and he knew by then what that would involve. If not that afternoon, he'd be in tears later that night when Uncle either came to his rooms or ordered Sébastien to his.

"It's nice, Uncle," Sébastien said in a low voice. "Can I go now?"

"Why? I thought you'd be happy to come up and look at it."

Why was he so obsessed with this thing all of a sudden? "Father's going for a ride. He said I could come too if I wanted, and I have to go outside to meet him before he leaves."

Corentin gave him a long look and took the pentacle. "Why don't you stay up here? You know he needs more time. It's only been a few months."

"I-"

"He can't give you the attention you want. I don't see why you can't understand that yet."

"Remere's going with him." Remere was older, and Father didn't call him clingy. Back when Enzo was alive, they used to go as a family. Mother had loved riding too.

Uncle sighed as he hung the pentacle on the wall and made sure it was straight. "You're fourteen, and you still don't get it. Come here for a moment."

Corentin took his arm to lead him into the bedroom. A part of Sébastien wanted to pull away because going into Uncle's bedroom usually wasn't safe. Pulling away would have consequences.

Everything was neat and tidy since the servants took care of cleaning. Sometimes, he wondered how the servants could take Uncle's bedding, wash it, and say nothing about the stains. Why didn't they ever notice Sébastien's either? Corentin often came to his rooms at night too.

They never seemed to notice or question why a little blood was also occasionally in a fourteen-year-old's bed.

Corentin planted him in front of a low chest of drawers where Sébastien could see himself in the looking glass mounted on the wall behind it. "Look at yourself."

It wasn't an activity Sébastien enjoyed anymore. Not only did he have a bad memory about that particular spot in the room, he almost expected to see the filth that he felt inside smeared across him whenever he saw his reflection. It wasn't the sort he could scrub off, although he'd tried.

"You're a young, pretty boy," said Uncle. "Your face still has the roundness of childhood, and you're shorter than Remere. You could pass for eleven or twelve. When I look at you, I see a young, sweet boy who still likes affection. When your Father looks at you, he sees that too, but he remembers that you're fourteen, a Prince, and the future Crown Prince when Remere takes the throne. He sees the immaturity of your face and worries about your maturity overall."

His tone suggested Sébastien was doing something wrong by being those things that Father saw.

"He sees a boy who needs to grow more independent like Remere and not need so much attention because you aren't eleven or twelve. You must remember your Father, the King, is going to have different expectations for you than commoners. When a King looks at his sons, he thinks of his own responsibilities, and he's going to see ahead to the future and the responsibilities that his sons will have in turn. He expects them to grow up."

"Remere's going," Sébastien dared to say again. He looked his age, and nobody was telling him not to have a horse ride with Father. He also didn't have to be lectured, and he would be the next King once Father grew old and either retired or passed. When that happened, Sébastien would be the Crown Prince until Remere married and produced a male heir.

Uncle sighed. "Remere also knows when to stay or go and how to read Jean's moods. He's not so huggy like you. He's growing up and doesn't expect to be coddled by his Father. That's how a future King acts. He also has friends to do things with, and he doesn't expect Jean to be the main one he does anything with."

Most of Sébastien's friends had drifted away after the death of the Queen and the Crown Prince. They had suddenly grown awkward like they didn't know what to do with one of their own crushed by grief and the other thing he couldn't bring himself to speak of. The last one who had stuck around for the most part started avoiding him a few weeks ago for whatever reason as though Sébastien had something contagious.

"Jean feels smothered by the death of Margot and Enzo, and you…well, I know you want comfort, but that doesn't help him. He expects you to be growing up and maturing. It's hard to cope and deal with another when he can hardly bear it himself."

Uncle gripped his shoulders harder and gave him a smile in the looking glass, although that didn't ease Sébastien. He never knew if he'd get safe affection or the other kind. The kind that often hurt and made him feel beyond ashamed. If Father or anyone knew…the mere thought was enough to make him want to throw up.

At the same time, he needed Uncle because who else did he really have?

"You're a very sweet boy," said Corentin. "Your Father doesn't understand that you need more attention, and he's not capable of giving it. He only offered the ride to be nice. I think he'd rather be alone or with Remere. You are a bit clingy at times, and I don't blame you for that, so I think it's better if you stay here. Make him think you can be independent and not so needy. He'll be happier with you if you do that and show him you're capable of being mature. You can spend time with me instead. He won't know."

There was a lot Father didn't know. All Sébastien wanted was to go with him through the city or maybe out in the woods. They didn't have to talk. They could simply ride side-by-side in silence while trying to gather a little peace. Sébastien could feel normal for a short time.

"I just want-"

Uncle held up a finger. "I want. This is another thing that annoys him. He's grieving too, and he lost his wife, which is a thing you couldn't possibly understand. Plus, with Enzo...It's not the same as losing your Mother. A parent losing a child is something no one can understand, including me."

Father always seemed annoyed when Sébastien wanted to hang out in his rooms or if he wanted hugs. Sébastien had once dared to admit to Father that he was lonely, and Jean had said welcome to being a man.

Mother had always been willing to hug any of her children, and it didn't matter how old they were. Father wouldn't fill that gap. Even though Jean hadn't specifically said so, he was irritated that his youngest expected something he couldn't give. Remere was satisfied with less which was why Father preferred him.

Uncle rubbed his shoulder. "You know you can always come to me, okay? You'll always be my favorite, and I know what you need."

He didn't want that.

"We could take a walk in the garden and look at the bushes in the back. The gardeners shaped them to look like animals. It's a bit hot, but I'll go with you."

Uncle wouldn't do anything to him outside beyond a couple of light touches if no one was around, and Sébastien wouldn't have to be alone. He'd pretend the touches weren't happening. Then again, that didn't actually work. "All right."

"You have to do something for me first."

No hovered on Sébastien's lips. It wouldn't matter if he said it since that word counted for nothing. He'd tried and quickly learned to not say it because Uncle would do what he wanted anyway.

1688

"With the harshest part of winter still ahead, they'll need to be tough, and that's why babies born on the longest night of the year are the strongest," Milly declared. "That's what my Ma said."

Sébastien didn't feel very strong despite being born on the night of the Winter Solstice. Mother had missed the celebrations that day since her pains had started before dawn. After spending all day in labor, she'd finally given birth to Sébastien a couple of hours before midnight. People often gave gifts on the night of the Winter Solstice. Usually, a wife doesn't get to give her husband a new child.

Milly cleaned downstairs, never dealt with laundry, and had no idea what happened upstairs at night. Sébastien was jealous that she got to sleep in a quiet room in the back passage, and nobody touched her. Not that he could be truly mad at her. She let him hang around, and when she had her late lunch, he often sat with her.

In a way, she was almost like an Aunt or an older cousin who was willing to let him tag around a bit while he struggled to feel normal. After a bit of wheedling on his part, she'd even shown him how to rub polish into wooden furniture with a soft cloth to keep it shiny.

It was late February, and the cold wasn't too bad. In fact, it was almost refreshing as he sat with her on the back step of the kitchen while she ate a bowl of stew. Far across the ground covered in patchy snow, he caught sight of Uncle's familiar, cloaked form as he strolled on the edge of the garden.

Uncle kept saying Sébastien needed to stop debasing himself by talking to a servant as if she were an equal. It didn't matter if Sébastien reminded Milly of her adult son who lived far away, and she liked having him around.

Uncle's tiny figure paused in the garden as he looked toward them. Despite the distance, he could surely tell it was his nephew on the step with Milly. Even though he couldn't make out Uncle's face, he could feel the gaze burning into him. Sébastien tightened his arms around his knees as he turned to ask Milly a question. Uncle wasn't taking this away.

***

"Uncle, please talk to Father and make him see," Sébastien begged a few nights later. "She didn't steal it. She's worked here for four years and never touched anything that wasn't hers."

Uncle sighed. "The necklace was found under her mattress."

"Someone put it there to frame her." Sébastien gripped the back of the armchair, although the barrier between him and Corentin, who sat on the couch, wouldn't protect him. The aching bruises hidden under his clothes wouldn't let him forget.

A dangerous look came over Uncle's face. "Really? Who put it there to frame her?"

Sébastien was almost entirely sure that it was Corentin. One of the courtiers had lost an expensive diamond necklace, and she'd practically turned her room upside down in an attempt to find it. She'd said she hadn't worn it in weeks, so it couldn't have fallen off anywhere in the Palace or outside. Uncle had suggested that the servant's quarters be searched because jewelry doesn't walk off by itself.

"One of the servants must be angry with her, or they're jealous..." Sébastien wouldn't dare accuse Uncle to his face.

"You can't make up excuses with no base," said Uncle. "Especially when the necklace was found in her room! She's fortunate that the Countess had a little pity and didn't want the harshest sentence. Five years for such a theft is beyond lenient, and I'm surprised your Father only sentenced her to that. Do you have any idea how expensive that necklace was?"

Five years were enough to do untold damage. Who knew what her owner might do to her? They might only have her do cooking, cleaning, or some form of menial work. Or they might do far worse.

His eyes stung with tears he wouldn't let fall. "I swear she didn't take it. She's not like that, and she doesn't deserve even a single day."

She was already in jail, and someone would likely buy her soon.

"My dear boy, you're too innocent sometimes. You're fifteen and as gullible as a child. Just because she's said nice words to you and let you tag around doesn't mean anything. Such a necklace might tempt any woman who could never hope to buy something that expensive."

"She'd never be able to wear it." Sébastien tried to keep his hands from shaking. "It'd be too noticeable, and if she tried to pawn it, the owner wouldn't take-"

"A pawn shop owner often cares little for where the item came from." Uncle closed his book. "You don't think of these things like I do."

Yes, Sébastien did. He just couldn't say them, and if he told Father that he was sure Uncle had planted the necklace to get Sébastien's only semblance of a friend out of the way, Jean would be furious. His brother would never do such a thing. Right?

"You wanted to see the best in her. You don't truly know her, and of course, she'd be nice to you. Honestly, you were likely quite annoying, and she only put up with your presence because it's rude to tell a Prince to go away. Why else do you think she had you polishing furniture a few times? It kept you quiet." Uncle shook his head as Sébastien tried to think of how he'd found that out. "I told you not to hang around with servants. They're not equals, and they're not there to be your friend. A Prince doesn't polish furniture either."

He didn't want Sébastien to have any friends. It was like he was jealous and wanted Sébastien all to himself despite growing annoyed at times with him. The hugs were still there, and they still went riding or walking in the garden. Uncle gave him gifts and said he was still the favorite.

Sébastien had made a mess the night before even though he'd tried not to because Corentin hated it. Uncle had called him disgusting before giving him a beating and hurting him worse than he had in a few months.

"Please…" Sébastien wanted to scream because it was his fault for trying to have a friend and spending time with her. If he'd stayed away, she'd still be free, and he'd never imagined Uncle would go so far. "I know you don't believe she's innocent, but talk to Father. He might listen to you. Please, Uncle." His knuckles whitened as he gripped the back of the armchair.

"What are you going to do for me?" Uncle parted his knees, silently saying the price. If Sébastien walked away, not only would he regret it later, Corentin wouldn't say a word to Father about Milly's fate.

Sébastien didn't see why Uncle even bothered to ask since it wasn't like there was ever a choice. Then again, he enjoyed humiliating his nephew, and what other reason did he need? "Anything."

"Crawl over here and show me."

***

"You said you'd talk to Father! You prom-ised me!" Sébastien's voice cracked while he sat on Uncle's couch.

"I did talk to him, and Jean wouldn't change his mind. I don't know why you seemed to think I could force him to think or decide differently. He believes Milly stole the necklace, and the evidence is clear. My words couldn't sway him."

Milly had already been bought, and Sébastien had no idea where she was now.

"Can you release her? Find out who bought-"

"I can't take away someone's property." Uncle shook his head. "You're old enough to know that and not ask something so ridiculous."

Uncle had given him the damn pentacle to hold as if Sébastien were five and easily distracted by a stupid trinket. He squeezed the brittle wood and was tempted to put enough force on it to potentially snap it. Or he could fling it across the room and hope it broke.

He hated the stupid thing Corentin kept showing him. He forced himself to put it on the couch beside him because he was sure he was about to throw it down. He wanted to scream, hit something, and leave to find the servant who'd been ripped away all because Sébastien was desperate to talk to another who treated him like a normal person.

"Don't pester your Father about this," added Corentin. "He's got enough to think about without his son crying and whining over a thief. The matter is done."

The disappointed tone ripped at Sébastien because he also wanted a hug and for someone to tell him it was all right. Someone who would actually make it so would be even better. He couldn't talk to Remere about this or…anything. Sébastien might as well have been alone except for Uncle.

"I gave that to you to look at," said Uncle.

"I've seen it already."

"It's a priceless item," said Corentin. "Do you have any idea how much I paid for it?"

Probably more than whoever bought Milly.

"South Sea items aren't cheap," said Corentin. "You're lucky I let you touch it. Once you don't look like you're ready to cry, we'll go for a ride."

Sébastien wanted to curl up in his rooms with books and try to forget he existed or what a disgusting failure of a person he was. He hadn't cried with Uncle in ages, and it wasn't like it mattered if he did. Eventually, he'd learned to pack his tears down. When he had cried before, he was never allowed to leave while his nose and eyes were still red.

"You shouldn't be this upset over a servant. It's unseemly for a Prince. But you've always been a nice boy. Too nice. You'd do well to listen to me since such a gullible attitude isn't good. You're growing up, and it's even starting to show in your face. What are others going to think if you're still acting so silly?"

In the rare times that he looked at himself for more than a few seconds, Sébastien had noticed that his face didn't look so round and young. He glanced at Corentin and was sure his expression was one of disappointment as if growing up were another thing that was unseemly for him.

"You need to have self-control too and get that look off your face," said Corentin.

At fifteen, Sébastien's body was changing and doing strange things he couldn't control while someone else controlled what he did with it at times and used it as they pleased. Like an item. Lately, when he grew angry, he felt an odd pain over his heart on his chest. There was so much he couldn't control, so why bother doing what he was told?

"I said to get that look off your face." Corentin leaned over to grab Sébastien by his chin.

Sébastien's heart pounded as he tried to smooth his expression even though the grip hurt, and he was afraid he might end up with a bruise that he couldn't hide with his shirt collar.

"I tried, so what do you say?"

He hadn't tried.

"Thank you, Uncle," Sébastien managed to get out.

"I buy you presents and even do silly things you ask, but you come in here and act like an ungrateful brat. I guess you don't want to go riding with me." Corentin released his chin.

"Yes, I do."

"Not with that attitude. I might as well find courtiers who want to go from now on and assume the brat doesn't want to accompany me."

Sébastien's stomach pinched. "I'm sorry, Uncle."

Corentin said nothing as he stood, and the pinch turned into panic. He had no one else to go with because Remere had a couple of friends he preferred riding with, and he didn't want his little brother tagging along. Father had only been going with the courtiers lately in big groups. There was always someone who wanted Father's attention over some matter whether it was personal or about the King of Rowland, who refused to do anything to control the werewolves.

Corentin was the only one who'd go on a horseback ride and actually pay attention to him.

"Uncle, I'm sorry," Sébastien said again as Corentin turned to look at him with a frown. "Please. I do want to go on a ride with you. I'm really sorry."

Corentin peered down at him for a long moment before he pointed at the floor. "Kneel. When you get that look on your face, it's hard to say no." The panic in Sébastien's stomach didn't go away as he slid down to kneel. How he hated it when Uncle demanded it. "Then again, you already know that. You've been doing it for years to get what you want from me."

Sébastien wasn't exactly sure what he meant. He hadn't been aware of doing anything in particular with his face years ago or currently, but Uncle said he had a "way." Corentin placed a hand on his head, and his gut eased a little. He was being forgiven. Uncle wouldn't be mad as long as Sébastien never mentioned Milly again.

"You know it too," Uncle said as his nephew focused on the floor. "I forgive you." He leaned down to kiss his forehead.

Sébastien could never mention Milly again, or there might not be forgiveness later. Not that Sébastien truly deserved it anyway. Corentin allowed him to stand only to grab his throat so hard, he couldn't freely draw air, and he had no choice but to look up at his Uncle.

"You'll kneel and show me how sorry you truly are tonight, won't you?" he demanded.

"Y-yes." Sébastien's chest constricted further at the lack of air, although he didn't dare raise a hand to defend himself.

"You won't bring up this nonsense about Milly either?" Corentin tilted his head. "Right?"

"No, Uncle…"

Corentin suddenly released him and brushed back his hair before pulling him into a hug. "I know deep down you're a good boy. We won't speak of this again. Hang up the pentacle, and we'll go."