Yes, in our sinister world, especially within the upper ranks, daughters were possessions to be used for their House's advantage. But there was no way my family would cage Ferne the same way my little bird had been by her own father. Sure, my brothers and I were overprotective, but Ferne wasn't a thing, a piece of property. Ferne was an independent soul—sharp and cunning and full of life. We'd never stifle it. She might very well be chosen as the heir to House Crowther. Unlike the rest of the Houses, our heirs were chosen on merit, not because they'd been born first.

I rolled my jacket up in my hands, finding it safer to look at than Wychthorn when I spoke. "There's a wider world out there, even within the Houses. Women aren't always chattel. They rule too. Houses Estlore and Qillisan and Văduva—all headed by women." All Lower Houses, too, but I didn't say that out loud.

"Not us," she said with a shrug. She gave me a wide, wary berth as she skirted past, disappearing into her walk-in closet. "My father's heir won't be Annalise or Evelene or even me. It'll be the first male baby born to either of my sisters. Her husband will rule Great House as Regent until the child comes of age." I heard the noise of rattling hangers pause. She stepped back into her bedroom holding the usual attire: an oversized dress shirt, this time in a pale blue. She flicked it over a shoulder, obviously intending to get dressed a little later.

Shock and a little disbelief washed over her. "Is that it? The reason why I was chosen for the Alverac. Someone easy to dominate?"

A soft chuckle rasped from my throat. Who the hells did Wychthorn see herself as? "If we wanted someone easy to dominate we would have picked either of your two sisters. Not you, little bird."

She tilted her head on her side, staring at me long and hard, a ghost of a smile tickling her lips. I started feeling uncomfortable. I gave her a look—What?

Her pale brows rounded. "A compliment? Was that a...compliment, Graysen Crowther?"

I rolled my eyes, "Gods, Wychthorn, don't let it go to your head."

She grinned. "I think I will. I think my head's swelling so big you won't be able to tug me out my bedroom door. Imagine, the sullen and brooding Graysen Crowther giving me a compliment."

I huffed a laugh and hers joined mine.

But then the mischief in her eyes died. There was something uneasy in her gaze as it landed on me. "Crowther."

Fuck, we were back to that again.

She nervously shifted her weight, her fingers combing through the messy tangled locks of her hair. Buttery sunlight poured through the window, gilding her in gold and shining through that flimsy nightie so her figure was apparent.

Sleeveless nightie, low neckline, the hem skirting mid-thigh. Panties—dammit.

"What I said..." she began, letting the words drift apart.

"At the tithe prison?"

She nodded. "I don't know why I shared that...with you, I mean..." She glanced away, then brought her gaze slowly back. Her hands twined together. "I think if I was in my right mind I never would have."

I stepped closer, frowning. "How can you forgive your mother for doing that to you?"

She lifted one shoulder. "Easily."

I shook my head, pushing the locks from my forehead. Really? Was it really that easy to forgive someone that locked her up in darkness? And though I knew deep down the answer was of course, yes you could, I carried on still seething on behalf of her. "You can't even sleep without a night light."

She blinked. "How do you know?"

I jerked my chin at the lamp still glowing. "Saw it last night too."

I took a step closer. She took a step back.

"Your mother made it so you can't bear being in the dark, even to sleep."

Just thinking of Marissa doing that to her had ire stirring in my veins. Byron, I wanted to be brought down...but Marissa, I'd always been conflicted about her.

"I know...I know..." Wychthorn replied, her hands rubbing anxiously at her arms prickling with goosebumps.

"She locked you in a tithe prison. No light. No window. No way out." With every sentence she flinched, her shoulders shrinking inward. Misery pinched her delicate features as I kept pushing onwards. "You were locked in there over the course of a year." Anger began to boil my blood. My hands fisted at the thought of what Marissa had done. "You were a kid." I couldn't wrap my mind around it. "And you just forgave her?"

With one more step backward she bumped into the wall. The abrupt halt seemed to snap her out of distress. Fury sparked. She flung an arm wide. "I did. I did, alright. I hated her. Is that what you wanted to hear? She shouldn't have done it!"

As suddenly as the anger had ensnared her, it swiftly left. She slumped against the wall, bowing her head, and replied with anguish infusing her voice. "She's my mother. I love her."

I took one more step so we were flush with one another.

Her expression was wretched when she finally looked up. "I forgave her. What else was there to do?"

With her braced against the wall and me leaning in—I guess right then we both realized just how close we were to one another. She sucked in a breath—I did too. Shock flared briefly as the scent of her, that heady spiciness with notes of fire, suddenly spiked.

Something changed in her stance. She'd become softer, more pliable. She'd become vulnerable opening up to me. And, like the prick I was, I sure as fuck was going to take advantage.

Her gaze swept across my chest, causing heat to bleed through my veins as it stroked upward to linger on my mouth just before gray eyes met my black. Her pupils had dilated, eating up the glacial charcoal of her irises. She wanted me. I could taste it. "No one knows what she did..." she whispered, her breathing a little uneven.

Fuck, I realized mine was too.

I reached out to trail a hand up the side of her graceful throat, and she curved away from my touch but didn't break contact. She didn't push me away either. Her breath quickened as she stared at me with big wide eyes.

"Are you asking me to keep your secret?"

Something glittered in her gaze, disappearing like a comet streaking across a night sky. Something so swift and clever I didn't quite catch it, couldn't grasp what was going on in that brilliant mind of hers. All I could think about was that mouth of hers, those plump pink lips, how the top lip was a touch fuller than the bottom.

"Ah-huh..." she murmured, closing her eyes on a soft sigh.

I bent my head, deciding to take a risk. "What will you give me to keep your secret?" My mouth was so close to hers, I could taste the sunshine in her breath. We shared the same air as she parted her lips slightly in invitation.

My mouth brushed against hers.

And then—

Something sharp and hard stung my nose.

I jerked back, scowling. "The fuck?!" She'd flicked my godsdamned nose! I rubbed the stinging pinch from the bridge. Fuuuck!

She bristled with her hands braced on her hips. "You must really think I'm an idiot, Crowther."

I bit my fist in frustration. I wanted to kiss her. She wanted me right back too. Godsdamn her!

"No, I don't," I barked, thumping the wall above her head with my fist. "You're a fucking thorn in my ass!"

"Good, because I hope it hurt like fuck! I hope I infect your sorry ass!"

Gods, this girl! This tiny little thing was doing my fucking head in!

I grabbed her by the forearms. Fuck, I'd steal that kiss if I had to.

She shrieked, finding herself hauled up against the wall. "Put me down you pigheaded prick!"

"Kiss me!" I roared.

"Like fuck I will!" she roared back, and I slammed the flat of my palm against the wall beside her head, shouting, "Now, little bird! NOW!"

She let out an exasperated hiss. "Godsdamn you Crowther." Her hands threaded through my hair. And gods, that felt good, those fingers curling around the nape of my neck. For one brief stupid moment, as I leaned forward, eager for the kiss she'd denied me, I thought she was complying, that she wanted that kiss as badly as I did. Until—

She fisted my hair, tugging painfully and yanking hard to arch my neck back so I couldn't do anything. "Never!" she chanted, "Never, never, never!"

And that's how Princess Number Two found us.

Evvie strolled into the bedroom carrying a breakfast tray, chittering about something to do with tomorrow night. She stumbled to a halt, her blue-green eyes flying wide. "No fucking way...no way...not you two..."

I'd never heard her swear before, ever.

Wychthorn's fingers loosened their grip on my hair, and her astonished gaze snapped to mine. She grinned. "Holy hellsgate, she never curses."

I grinned back. "There's a first for everything, Wychthorn."

Evvie drew in an awful breath. A silent accusation leveled at her little sister.

Wychthorn suddenly flushed, and I guess it must have slammed into her what it might look like. Her here with me, in her flimsy nightie, her legs wrapped around my waist, as if her sister had caught her in the act of making out. Such a pretty color suffused her cheeks—a deep rose pink. It might now be my favorite color. "No!" she shrieked. "As if!" She struggled within the cage of my arms. "It's not how it looks."

"It's exactly how it looks," I shot back.

But I let her free. Let her slide to her feet. She skittered sideways.

"Then what's he doing in here? With you? Like that?" Evvie demanded. Before Wychthorn could answer, Evvie stormed away to slam the breakfast tray down on the bedside table, the jarring noise rattling through the room. She rounded on me, glaring as if I'd just offed a litter of kittens.

She was a fierce thing. I wondered why I'd never recognized it in her before.

All I could think of was what Wychthorn had shared with me. I saw, in my mind, Evelene as a child, sitting outside the tithe prison spinning tales to keep her sister's fear at bay.

My little bird's flush deepened as she ran an anxious hand through her messy hair, her fingers snagging on a knot. She jittered on the spot, gray eyes darting everywhere about the room but at me. "He...uh...I...we...ah..." She lost the power of coherent speech.

How delightful.

Finally, her gaze snapped around and she actually looked at me, silently begging me to help her out.

Sure, little bird, with pleasure.

"Gods, Wychthorn," I purred, stepping right into my little bird's space and draping an arm over her slender shoulder. "You're old enough to invite someone into bed with you. And last night...exceptional." And I slapped her ass.

Her mouth fell open. I expected some kind of cutting retort, maybe even an attempt to punch my face, but she merely gaped. I pressed a finger beneath her chin, guiding upward, pressing her lips shut. She slowly blinked. Still silent. Still staring.

Bending lower, I whispered, "That's for flicking my nose." In my periphery, I grinned to see her older sister's horrified expression. "And this is for lying. We both know you wanted to kiss me, little bird." I blew a gentle swirl of air against the shell of her ear. My grin broadened when I felt a slight bow in her spine at the erotic sensation of my caressing breath. Her mouth slightly parted before straight teeth bit down on her lower lip to stifle a moan. The distinctive scent of her desire flooded my nostrils—she could deny me all she wanted, but that fragrance that was unique to only her, of bittersweet berries and spice and flames, said otherwise.

"Not in this house," Evvie snapped, tugging at the long sleeves of her dress, but not quick enough for me to see the bruises of fingerprints branding her lower arm like a bracelet.

I almost snarled.

Why the fuck is Byron giving his daughter to that monster?

Well, I guess I did know. To secure his family's position. He didn't want to be the one at the head of his House who lost the seat as Great House. Fucking egotistical asshole.

Wychthorn shrugged out from underneath my arm and darted away to the safety of the breakfast tray. She snatch up a piece of dried toast, glaring at me as she waved it my way. "Evvie, he's messing with you."

"I know," Evvie said, her gaze narrowing on me. "As if you'd go there. Ugh, Graysen Crowther."

Shit, she made me sound like a disease.

I rolled my eyes. Then jerked my chin in the direction of my room. "I'll be seeing you later," I promised the youngest sister. "Knock anytime you feel like round two."

"Un-fucking-likely Crowther," she bit back.

I winked. "I'll leave the door unlocked."

She sent Evvie a smug smirk and when the both of them burst into a crowing kind of laughter it unsettled me.

What the fuck are they laughing at?

And that's when I saw the armoire leaning in front of the door that adjoined our two rooms. Not that it would keep me out if I wanted in.

As I left, striding toward the fucking door of her quarters, I heard Evvie urge her younger sister, "Off you go and get dressed. I thought we'd have breakfast together before the day turns to chaos." Already the sounds of construction rang outside. Trucks were pulling up, and the contractors that had been brought in to erect the marquee for the engagement party tomorrow night had begun their day. "I'm glad I came when I did. You were about to kiss him."

"No, I wasn't," I heard Wychthorn hiss, mortified.

"Yes, she was!" I sang out.

"NO!" she roared at my retreating back.

"YES! YES! YES!" And I kept chanting it on my way out of her quarters.