I cinched the drawstring on my oversized pants, wearing a matching shirt akin to a potato sack. Melody and Kenzie didn’t own anything even remotely similar, and maybe it’d bother me if not for the fact that I’d rather resemble a bag of potatoes than wear a lacey monstrosity of a dress. My long, thin black hair dampened the neck of the shirt, but I had no time to fix it when Eucinda beckoned me.

Squeezing my hands into fists, I blew out a steadying breath and quickly made my way downstairs. Caine and Eucinda appeared in the foyer the moment I rounded the top of the staircase.

“Ah, there’s my girl,” he crooned with a crooked smile.

Eucinda’s glare sent daggers my way through a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I trust she’s serving you well.” A pointed statement, edged as a freshly sharpened razor.

“Indeed. Please.” He gestured toward the sickly looking sitting room, an invitation for us both to join him in our home.

“Of course.” Eucinda dipped and angled her face for me to follow.

Caine stood, hat tucked under his arm, a black gloved hand extended for me to follow my stepmother. Survival forced a smile to flash on my face and I kept my head down as I obeyed his request.

The weightlessness at my side was disconcerting. Two women alone in a big house with a notoriously dangerous man. I had no protection on me, left to the mercy of a hopefully diplomatic meeting.

Part of me wished I’d removed the false bottom in the armoire and donned my black uniform. Kicking his ass would be so satisfying.

My thoughts drifted to my daggers, but only upon reflection did I realize I’d only returned one with my night clothes. When was the last time I’d even held, or seen the other? I briefly glanced down and confirmed I did in fact have clothes on, the lack of weaponry making me feel utterly naked.

I stood next to Eucinda. Her hands were tightly fastened together in front of her. She chose to stand rather than suffer the embarrassment of pulling back the white sheet that covered the only remaining sofa behind us. Caine, on the other hand, held no qualms seating himself in the lone chair that used to belong to a matching set. Dust swarmed into a tidal wave when he sat, resting his ankle over his knee like he owned the place.

Technically, he did.

“I have a proposal,” he said, dominating the room with the boom of his voice.

Somehow, my skin felt slimy. When he didn’t immediately offer an explanation, I started drowning in a sea of tumultuous thoughts. Did he mean an actual proposal? He wasn’t married. Did he mean Eucinda, or me? Maybe one of my sisters? Or maybe the term was just a ploy, a figment to make it sound like we had a choice in whatever he came here to discuss—or dictate. Or maybe he’d come to finally make good on his threats and we’d be calling the streets home by evening.

“Oh?” Eucinda raised her chin, her stoney features unmoving.

“I have a way to absolve your family of the debt. In its entirety.” His wicked smile lingered, even as he took a casual position pressing his fingers into his temple and resting his chin on his thumb.

I didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t dare breathe a single breath.

“We’re not interested in trading one debt for another,” Eucinda replied stiffly.

He sat forward, waving a dismissive hand. “Not a trade. Not another debt. A final payment that will conclude our business together. You may receive the deed to your home, and Nora will no longer be needed at the tavern.”

My mind emptied. Eucinda’s face didn’t budge, but her tight inhale gave away her desperation. My father used to say, if something seemed too good to be true, it was. I didn’t even know his suggestion, and I mentally prepared to figure out his angle. No arrangement would mean we gained more than he did.

“In two days, the prince will invite every eligible young woman from the south side to a luncheon. The opening ceremonies of the marriage competition, if you will.”

My eyebrows pinched together, but I refrained from speaking.

“In this very house alone…” he motioned around the room. “There are three eligible bachelorettes.”

Hot bile branded the back of my throat. Eucinda perked up at the suggestion one of her daughters could be the next queen.

“Simply ensure one of your daughters secures the crown, send the lump sum payment before the marriage, and our business is concluded.” He flicked a speck of invisible dust from the shoulder of his jacket and returned his too casual gaze. As if he hadn’t just suggested something ludicrous and, frankly, disgusting.

“There are a lot of young women vying for the prince’s affection,” Eucinda said, carefully gauging the consequences of failure. I was curious about that, too.

He groaned as he stood, then held perfect posture standing directly before us. “It’d be a shame if I had to sell this house to recoup my losses.” His austere stare never wavered.

Things must be getting dire for him if he suddenly needed to cash out his investment. The light reflecting off his soulless eyes drove the point home. He didn’t care if we were put on the streets.

“Good day, ladies.” He placed his hat atop his head and tipped the rim in our direction, then saw himself out. The door closed, leaving Eucinda and me to stew in his wake.

Melody stood a chance, but my thoughts turned to her current prospect. Though I didn’t necessarily wish him for her, if she decided to partake in the search for a queen, surely Mr. Pepins would take offense. That, or propose to take her off the market. Would she be willing to risk it?