Blood Cannot Lie
“Let go of me!”
Thalia drove her heel into his shin. But Gareth was not the sort of brother to fall for the same trick twice. He shifted his foot with practiced ease, dodging the blow, then wrenched her arm behind her back and laughed in her face — a light, mocking sound that scraped against her nerves.
“I almost didn’t believe it… To think the imperial family’s little problem had set her sights on an eastern nobleman!”
Thalia stared up at him, eyes wide with terror. It felt as though every drop of blood in her body had frozen solid. She scrambled to compose her face.
“Don’t talk nonsense. Who would—”
“Exactly. It is nonsense. A bastard like you, forgetting her place and daring to covet the heir of Grand Duke Sierkan!”
The pleasure of having finally seized a weakness in the half-sister he had always regarded as a thorn in his side seemed to fill him entirely. Gareth rocked with laughter, his whole body shaking with it. He seized her jaw in one hand and breathed into her face — a sour, wine-soaked breath that made her stomach turn.
“Blood will out, after all. How could the vulgar instincts of a whore who eyed other women’s men ever leave you?”
Thalia fixed him with a blazing stare. Gareth grinned down at that venomous face, then shoved her away as if discarding something unclean. He added, with a slow, oily smile:
“Dream on. Barcas is not a man the likes of you could ever—”
“There’s one thing you’ve forgotten, brother. The blood that runs in me isn’t only that of a vulgar whore. It is also the blood of a man who left his heavily pregnant wife to chase after a girl half his age.”
In an instant, the smile vanished from the Crown Prince’s face as if wiped clean.
Thalia looked straight up into that hideously contorted expression and continued, her words slow and deliberate.
“And come to think of it — that shameless man’s blood runs in your veins as well, doesn’t it?”
She could see the tension coiling through his large, muscular frame. She knew she ought to stop. But she could not end this having handed him her secret and nothing more. Thalia smiled at him the way he had smiled at her — a thin, bitter curve of the lips.
“Since you’ve dug up my secret, brother, shall I dig up one of yours?”
A faint unease flickered in Gareth’s eyes. Thalia watched it with open mockery, then leaned in and whispered against his ear.
“There’s a quiet rumor among the ladies-in-waiting. That His Highness the Crown Prince seeks out, night after night, only women with deep honey-gold hair and eyes as blue as the sea.”
The color drained from Gareth’s copper-toned face.
Thalia smiled into that ashen pallor with pure malice.
“I think I know who the woman was — the one you met in your dreams the first night you became a man and soiled a bed. Shall I guess?”
His entire body jerked as if struck by lightning. The thought flashed through her that if she did not stop now, he might truly kill her this time. But as always, she listened to the devil’s voice goading her on.
“No need to tremble so. I’m a good little sister. I’ll keep your secret to the end — the fact that His Highness the Crown Prince seems to have inherited His Majesty the Emperor’s blood… very, very thoroughly.”
The words had barely left her mouth when a heavy blow snapped her head sideways.
Thalia hit the ground and clutched her face, which burned as if set alight. The world swam before her eyes as though she had suffered a concussion. She was still trying to push herself up, holding her spinning head, when Gareth came down on top of her and closed both hands around her throat. Her eyes felt ready to burst from their sockets.
She fought with everything she had. She raked her sharp nails down his forearms and kicked wildly at his stone-hard body, but her flesh — already worn to frailty — was utterly powerless. Thrashing like a fish dragged onto dry land, Thalia finally went limp, her limbs hanging loose. Then, all at once, the crushing grip that had been about to snap her neck simply fell away.
She twisted convulsively and dragged air into her lungs in raw, choking gasps. Through a vision blurred by tears, she saw Barcas holding Gareth’s arm.
Barcas looked down at her with a face as blank as a mask, then shifted his gaze to Gareth.
Gareth was still glaring at his half-sister as if he meant to kill her — a face twisted with the fury of a man who felt himself the wronged party. The sheer absurdity of that victim’s expression was so ridiculous that a laugh broke through her residual coughing.
Gareth’s face flushed scarlet as he raised his fist.
“You damned bitch—!”
But his hand never reached her.
Barcas caught that thick, muscular forearm as lightly as if twisting a child’s wrist, and fixed Thalia with a sharp look. He seemed thoroughly sick of a woman who, having just escaped death, still could not stop clawing at her own brother.
“Escort Her Highness the Princess to her quarters.”
He gave the order to a guard knight who had come running, face pale as chalk. The knight moved at once to support her.
Thalia shook off the offered hand without mercy and staggered to her feet on her own. Then, as if nothing at all had happened, she calmly brushed the dirt from her skirts. Gareth watched her with burning eyes and roared at Barcas.
“Let go of me this instant!”
“Stop this at once!”
From a short distance away, Aila raised her voice. It seemed to be the first time she had witnessed her brother’s violence up close; her face had gone white. She hurried to his side and spoke in a hard, clipped tone.
“What on earth do you think you’re doing? You are the Crown Prince of this empire! How could you commit such an outrage—!”
“Stay out of this!”
Gareth snarled like a beast.
Aila flinched and took a step back. She seemed genuinely shaken that the younger brother who had always behaved toward her like a gentle puppy had bared his teeth. Thalia turned to her half-sister with a mocking smile.
“She’s right. Stay out of our business, sister.”
Aila’s emerald eyes flashed as she glared at Thalia — then she stiffened at the sight of Thalia’s ruined face. Thalia touched her swollen cheek with one hand and smiled strangely.
“It was only a light quarrel between siblings. Wasn’t it, brother?”
She tilted her head as if seeking agreement, and the sound of teeth grinding between clenched jaws answered her. She stepped forward until she stood before the still-panting Gareth. A knight moved to block her path, but she ignored him and looked straight up into her half-brother’s deep green eyes.
“After all, we’re close enough to share secrets, aren’t we?”
His face was now so red it looked ready to burst. The expression of a man who wanted nothing more than to tear her apart and devour her alive. But he clearly had no wish to risk having his filthy secret exposed in front of his sister. He let the tension drain from his body and spoke in a voice locked tight.
“…Take your hand off me.”
Barcas studied Gareth’s face for a moment, then released him. He must have been gripping hard; clear handprints stood out against the sun-browned skin. Gareth rubbed at the marks, glared at Barcas and Thalia in turn with eyes full of raw hostility, then spun on his heel and strode back toward the camp.
Thalia was still giggling at the sight of him retreating like a defeated soldier when she felt a cold gaze on her. She wiped the amusement from her face and lifted her chin. As always, an unreadable, impassive face looked quietly down at her.
But in those ice-hard eyes, Thalia could read the disgust and the anger with perfect clarity.
He took hold of her arm with a gauntleted hand and gave a slight nod to the knight.
“See that Her Highness the First Princess is escorted to her chambers.”
Then he offered a brief bow to Aila, who still stood rigid, and led Thalia away between the trees as if escorting a prisoner.
She twisted her face into a venomous scowl. Whatever anyone said, she was a princess of the empire. A vassal of the imperial house had no right to drag the Emperor’s daughter about like a mongrel dog.
Thalia wrenched her arm free of his grip.
“You insolent—! Let go of me this instant—!”
In the next breath, her body lifted clean off the ground. Thalia screamed. Barcas had slung her over one shoulder like a sack of goods, and he strode straight through the tents, ignoring every stunned stare that followed them.
Thalia’s face burned scarlet as she thrashed like a poisoned animal. She pounded her fists against his back and shoulders and kicked savagely — but Barcas did not so much as flinch.