My throat tightened. I tried to convince myself that the king would never harm a son who had loved him and tried to please his father, despite the many reasons not to. A son who followed through on his father’s wishes and then worked in secret with the cabal to right any wrongs the king might have ordered.

But even as I tried to convince myself the King of Winter would do no such thing, I’d never be able to say asmuch, because I could no longer lie. King Magnus would doanythingto keep control of this kingdom, harm anyone, cast anyone aside.

My jaw tightened. But King Magnus would never hurt Vale. Not while I breathed.

“Lord Riis told me the truth,” Vale admitted. “He even spoke to my mother about it. He claims to have loved her all his life.”

“Still?”

“Still.” He met my gaze. His eyes were no longer watery but resigned. “I can’t say if Mother loves him, but they were together before Mother married my—the king. Rhistel and I were born prematurely, even for twins, though the king did not seem to realize—even then he was busy, planning for the rebellion to come.”

“Why would she do that? Did she not love your father at all?” I understood why Inga would feel repulsed by her husband now. He slept with concubines and any female who took his fancy. The start of a marriage, though, that was when people were on their best behavior.

“Their families arranged the marriage. Not a love match.” Vale shrugged. “Common enough amongst the noble houses—even those with little power.”

Yes, that made sense, but something else did not.

“Vale?”

“Yes?”

“You insinuate your mother knew right away that Lord Riis sired you?”

He paled. “I did.”

“So did your father call himself that and QueenInga agreed to allow him to father you and Rhistel? And then when he acted as a father, she could call him one?”

Otherwise, it would be a lie, and fae could not lie.

Vale cleared his throat. “I have something else to tell you. Another secret. One that cannot leave this room. One that I should have told you much sooner.”

“I will keep any secret you give me,” I promised, touching my heart.

“Rhistel is not the only whisperer in the family. Mother is one too—hence, she can lie.”

I gaped. To have one whisperer in the family was dangerous. To have two? “Do the others in House Vagle know?”

Technically, like Rhistel, the queen should have been killed as a youngling.

“My grandfather does, and of course his wife did, though she is long gone to the afterworld. Uncle Eirwen is the only other to know, besides Father, Rhistel, and me.”

“Not Saga?” Then I recalled that Saga had told me, adamantly, that her mother was not a whisperer. “Oh, my stars, she doesn’t.”

“I only learned of Rhistel because he used his power on me,” Vale replied. “Mother assured me it would never happen again. That she’d teach him to act with honor.”

A lot of good that had done.

The information made so many things click into place. How only the queen disciplined Rhistel. She was the only one with the power to do so.

“Is she stronger than him?”

“Yes, and Mother has far more control too,” Vale assuredme. “Please, say nothing. Rhistel is not a male of honor, but Mother has done no wrong, save for continuing to live. And revealing one of my loved ones might reveal the other.”

“I said I wouldn’t say a thing,” I assured him. “I meant it.”

I looked at the window where the lights of House Vagle, the great stags of the midlands, glowed. The noble houses had so many secrets. Inga’s powers and a relationship with a merchant were salacious, but those secrets were far from the only ones that the old stone castle guarded.

How romantic—the son of an up-and-coming merchant falling for the noble lady. Her falling for him too. If the tale hadn’t been crushing Vale, I would have enjoyed it far more.