The Rebel Prince (The Season Series #3)

Chapter 50

My heartbeat roared in my ears as Adelaide smiled up at me in the moonlight. But there was something about being cornered that finally served to rein in my spiralling thoughts.

"Then I suppose we'd best go speak to my father," I said, sliding my hands into my pockets.

Adelaide shook her head, adamant. "So you can wheedle your way out of this? Absolutely not. You will announce our betrothal now, in front of the entire court."

Quickly, before she could see the wheels turning in my head, I made a decision. There were only two ways out of this: to play along, or to refuse and hope she wasn't as dangerous as she thought. Dulciana had clearly not told her about Beatriz, otherwise I know Adelaide would've named her, which meant she didn't know about my fictional marriage either. I trusted Dulciana not to hinge her country's military hopes on Adelaide's romantic prospects, but I didn't trust Adelaide not to lie if it meant seeing Beatriz' life ended. She was the type to do everything in her power to see any wife of mine—pretend or not—killed.

Which meant I had to play along. As much as it grated against my every last nerve, I had no other choice. Not when Beatriz' life hung in the balance. Not when flinging more truth in Adelaide's face would only rile her further.

"Then don't come crying to me when he annuls the betrothal." I shrugged. "You saw what my father did to Libby and Andrew when my brother failed to seek his approval first."

A muscle twitched in her face at the mention of my future sister-in-law, the only crack in her pleasant facade. One I couldn't see past to determine if she knew I was lying.

My father would never step in the way of a marriage to Adelaide—it would tie Umberwood to the throne as surely as his marrying Mother had kept Kentshire. But I prayed Adelaide was single-minded enough not to think my father's motives through .

Thankfully, she was.

"Fine," she said, her lips pressing into a line. "But I will be in the room when you tell them."

"Shall we, then?" I said coldly, gesturing to the ball.

She tipped her chin up and wiped everything sour from her face when I held the terrace door open for her. I hated the sly, adoring looks she flung at me as heads turned our way, and the way she pressed herself against my arm in a bid to paint the picture she so desired: the two of us, happily in love, headed to ask my parents for permission to marry.

Libby saw us first. She leaned over to whisper something into Andrew's ear, and he paused, mid-conversation with an older couple as his eyes locked with mine. We were all the way across the room, but I hoped he could read my expression. My desperation.

I needed help. I needed allies. I needed someone to warn my parents before Adelaide snared them in her web of lies.

Thankfully, my brother was closer to my parents' thrones. He'd already excused himself from his conversation and bent over my mother's shoulder to whisper something by the time Adelaide and I reached the foot of the dais. I bought my brother a few extra seconds as I cleared my throat with exaggerated gusto.

"Yes?" Father said, his eyes sliding between me and Adelaide. Calculating already. Plotting already.

"We would like a word with you both," I said, bowing to them. Adelaide sank into a painfully graceful curtsey with a blush staining her cheeks. The courtiers around us had taken notice, and whispers were already rippling behind fans and gloved hands.

"Of course," Mother said, interrupting whatever Father had opened his mouth to say with a touch to his wrist. He glanced sidelong at her, but all she did was smile warmly at Adelaide.