The walk back to my rooms is the worst time I’ve had to endure in the palace thus far, save for the time I was literally tied to a chair and covered in a dead man’s blood.

Nico leads the way back, walking two paces ahead of me. Everyone who passes us by stops to stare at him and I can’t blame them. The anger rolling off of him in waves is nearly tangible. I want to say something, but I don’t want to be on the receiving end of his know-it-all attitude.

As it turns out, I shouldn’t have worried at all, because as soon as we round the corner and enter the privacy of the corridors that lead to my chambers, Nico lays it on me.

“What on earth were you doing back there?”

“What?” I ask, hating how small my voice sounds.

“Why were you acting like you and the Princeling are thick as thieves?”

“All we did was take a walk around the gardens.”

Nico looks like he isn’t quite able to wrap his brain around what I’m saying.

“You can see what he’s getting at, can’t you? The way he’s trying to wrap you around his finger, the way he did all those other princesses?”

Nico hurls questions like an artillery raid. I wish I could run back to my rooms and take cover, but I feel trapped beneath his gaze.

“He’s not trying to do anything,” I say. “His brother just died. His brother, my husband. Prince Griffin is just being kind.”

I try not to linger on the other half of his sentence. All those other princesses. It isn’t Griffin’s fault if foreign princesses found him charming, and I hope it doesn’t mean anything that they did. After all, Griffin is here, in Draconia, not with them.

“Kind? Kind? He’s playing the manipulation game with you, and clearly, he’s winning.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You blushed when he handed you that flower. You. Blushed. You don’t blush, much less accept flowers from a Tarasque.”

A flurry of emotions churns in my gut. Humiliation, at having been caught. Horror, at the thought that if Nico noticed, then Griffin definitely did, too. Shame, for abusing a mourning man’s kindness like this.

“I didn’t blush,” I mumble.

“Whatever you say, Your Highness.” Nico spits the words like they’re something between the punchline to a cruel joke and a curse. “If you want to play the part of the grieving widow, then so be it. Just don’t topple what we’ve spent months building.”

Then it hits me. I’m supposed to be grieving the death of an Emperor. I’m a Queen. I’m not the Annie who has to sit back and let men run me into the ground. In this world, I can tell Nico—or anyone, for that matter—exactly what’s on my mind and there will be no room for discussion. The realization is exhilarating, more freeing even than realizing that Griffin has no idea who I’m supposed to be.

I stand up straight, and despite the fact that I only come up to Nico’s chin, for the first time in my life, I feel enormous.

“Captain,” I say, meeting his eyes. “I don’t know why you think you know everything there is to know about me, or about Prince Griffin, but what you’re saying is inappropriate.”

If for nothing else, speaking up is worth it just for the look on Nico’s face. His eyes go wide with disbelief, his jaw slack. I’m thrilled by the feeling; blood rushes in my ears, my heart hammers in my chest. So often, I’d fantasized about telling off one of our suppliers when they talked over me, or snapping at Mr. Dickerson to get his own coffee in the morning, but I never found the words. Nico is the type of man all of them would be afraid of talking back to, and I’ve just done it.

“What are you saying?” Nico glances around the hall and leans in to whisper in my ear. “Just last week you were saying the Princeling is the next hurdle to overcome, so I don’t understand—”

Still on my high, I say, “Excuse me, Captain, but I’m pretty sure the princeling has a name and a title.”

I shock even myself with how steady my voice sounds, how right it feels to speak like this, how easy it is.

“What?”

“You heard me,” I say, stalking forward.

“Are you defending him?” Nico sounds every bit as shocked and appalled as he looks.

“Why wouldn’t I? He’s my deceased husband’s brother,” I say, leveling Nico with a look.

His face circles through an array of emotions, before it settles on complete and utter confusion. It’s not the reaction I’m expecting.

“What’s with your change of heart all of a sudden?” Nico asks. “You were the one who said—”

But I don’t get to know what I said, because Helena comes rushing down the hall.

“Your Majesty,” she gasps, leaning forward to catch her breath. “Madame De Vries requests your attention immediately.”

“You heard her, Captain,” I say, glaring at Nico. “I’ll be off now.”

“Wait—” Nico calls, but I turn on my heel and follow Helena back the way we came.