**RECAP TIME!

After striking a bargain with the usurper queen Dulciana, Thomas has returned to Pretania. To save Beatriz' life, he must somehow secure an army for Dulciana. But helping Dulciana means dooming Frederico and his rebels, something Beatriz would never forgive him for.

Distracted by his desperation to save Beatriz, Thomas has found himself cornered by Adelaide, who has maneuvered him into declaring her as his betrothed in exchange for her silence to Dulciana about his plot to double cross the false Ardalonian Queen. Except that plot has just been foiled by Thomas's father, the king of Pretania, who has elected to not send help to Ardalone for either Dulciana or Frederico. This is where we now find Thomas, reeling after the news that no one seems to want to help him...**

"Let's get you back to your room," Anne was saying, through the haze of my tears. Her small hands tugged at my arms, my shoulders, anything to get me to rise.

"I can't," I managed, thinking of Nisha waiting there. Dreading what she would do if she saw me like this. If she learned how badly I'd failed.

"Mine, then," Anne said sternly, before leaning down to whisper, "You can't be seen like this. Not when we don't know who else..."

She trailed off, and suddenly the servants trying to be inconspicuous as they bustled around us seemed to take up all the air in the hallway. So many watching eyes, ready to report back to some mystery ally of Dulciana's we still hadn't discovered.

I dashed a sleeve across my eyes, shoved to my feet, and stalked away towards Anne's room. She had to run to catch up to me, and was already ringing her call bell while I threw open a window to suck in some cold morning air. The bite of Highcastle's dewy morning slapped some sense back into me. The tracks of my tears chilled, then dried.

If Father wouldn't help, then I'd find someone who would. I'd bring whatever troops I could muster, and hope they would be enough for Dulciana. Hell, perhaps I'd go so far as to say that I wanted to overthrow my own Father's throne with her help. That might really cement us as allies.

But none of that would help Frederico. And with Vareinne and Germania allied against him, he didn't stand a chance. It wouldn't matter if I saved Beatriz if his rebellion went down in flames. If her brother died fighting for his country, she'd never forgive me. She'd probably want to go down alongside him, not live a cushy life in Highcastle's palace, wearing fancy dresses and going to operas.

My stomach hollowed out, dread liquefying my insides. I suppose I hadn't really thought about what might happen if I ever managed to free Beatriz. Would she really board a ship and sail back here with me, while her brother's troops needed all the help they could get? I thought of her pinning me to the ground with her knife when I'd gotten in her way once before.

She wouldn't run from her brother's fight. She'd run towards it. The only way to bring her here, to safety, would be to abscond with her very much against her will. I'd have to shackle her and drag her back, which I could never bear to do because she'd never forgive me.

I hadn't realized I was pacing until Anne materialized in front of me with a steaming cup of tea.

"Drink. And sit." She pointed to one of her armchairs.

I accepted the tea but refused the seat. My nerves wouldn't let me settle, so I kept pacing.

"He won't help," I managed finally, when she'd sent her maid back out on some other errand and then sat down to watch me pace, eyes wide with concern.

"Father?"

"He prefers to do nothing. To let Ardalone and Vareinne and Germania sort it all out on their own."

Anne tsked. "So he's doing what's best for—"

It was an effort not to throw the teacup. "I don't care what's best for Pretania!"

"Thomas—"

The door opened, and Libby took one look at the pair of us, then hastily shut it behind her. "You should know that two chambermaids just heard that."

I found I didn't care. If Pretania didn't care about me, why should I care about it? This country was Andrew's problem, not mine.

"Did you send for Andrew?" Anne asked her, as if reading my thoughts about my brother.

"He's still with the king," Libby said, eyeing me as if I were some wild animal pacing in the corner of Anne's room.

"Fine," she said to Libby, then took bracing sip of tea as if readying herself to sort out a puzzle and turned to me. "What, exactly, were the terms of your agreement with Dulciana?"

I wanted to be grateful that at least someone was trying to take my side. But little Anne, clever as she was, against the monstrosity of my dilemma still felt incredibly futile. I needed soldiers. I needed ships. I needed more than my little sister could provide.

"She wants Pretania to stand with her against Frederico and her rebellious people," I said. "She wants an army to help crush his, and ships to join her armada. If I delay, or don't return with soldiers, or try to warn Frederico, or if she loses, Beatriz dies."

It all sounded so simple to say it, stripped of all the emotions involved. But it still carved a hollow into my chest, naming all the ways I could lose her.

Anne's eyes glazed over as she sipped her tea, holding the cup pensively against her lip. "She'll have Germania on her side without much pressure, I'm sure. So what transpired in Vareinne? Are they so keen to help her, or is she forcing their hand as well?"

"Her armada was sailing for Brévis, but she agreed to leave Vareinne untouched in exchange for Beatriz. She and King Louis shook on it, but I don't know if they conversed any further before they dumped me on the ship bound for home."

"Then perhaps Vareinne can still be swayed to help," Libby offered, from where she'd taken a seat beside Anne. "She'd threatened them, and now she's turned around and gone home. Perhaps they'd enjoy giving her a swift kick in the..." She trailed off, cleared her throat as if remembering herself, and corrected her posture. "Perhaps they'd be happy to ally against someone who'd dared to threaten them."

"It's a good plan, but Father won't allow it," came a voice from the door.

Andrew closed it quietly behind him, in his shirtsleeves and looking as tired as ever. "With Ardalone's armada sailing back to Relizia from Brévis, they could very easily turn north and hammer into our southern coast. With Germania massing in the north, he won't risk that."

My fingers tightened around my teacup. "If you're simply here to spout doom over all our plans, then run along."

Andrew fixed me with a look, wearily settling himself into another armchair and pouring a cup of tea. "I'm here to liase, as much as I can. He's aware that you're right, you know. But he doesn't enjoy feeling outsmarted, and he doesn't like it when his plans are thwarted by impulsiv—"

I set the teacup down because I well and truly wanted to throw it now. "Perhaps if he told me the plan I'd know how not to get in his way!"

"You just need to trust him," Andrew said, with a pointed look at me as he fixed his tea. "He—"

"How am I supposed to trust anyone in this Fates-forsaken kingdom when I'm the only one trying to save Beatriz' life?" I roared.

"Not the only one," came an accented voice from the corner. Nisha stepped out from behind a curtain, nimble and silent as a cat.

Anne gave a little yelp of surprise, while Libby simply grinned, eyes dancing at the sheer mischief of Nisha sneaking in to the princess' room undetected. Andrew's teaspoon clattered to his saucer in surprise.

"I told you I could move around this palace undetected," Nisha said, flashing a feline smile at me. "And if none of them will help you, then I'll make them."

My heart was still pounding from arguing with Andrew, but something about the way Nisha absolutely refused to give up—that she'd stowed away to get here, snuck into the palace, and was spending every waking moment of every day trying to help me get back to Beatriz—finally provided me with the calm I so desperately needed.

I had allies. Perhaps not the ones best suited to my needs, but allies nonetheless. I just had to trust that they, too, were doing everything in their power to help. I'd gotten too used to Ardalone, a land of action and deception and coups. I wasn't used to Pretania anymore, where the very same deception was disguised in pretty words and slow-moving courtly games.

"I have an idea," Libby said, still looking at Nisha, who'd come to stand beside me, arms folded. "How well do you think you can pretend to be a maid?"

Nisha blinked a few times, clearly translating in her head. She looked down at me. "Is she asking me to be a servant?"

"She's asking if you're willing to dress as a servant," I said, following Libby's glance to the service door. "Because so long as no one gets a close enough look at you, you'll be able to sneak into far more places with a uniform than without."

"I can," Nisha declared, smiling again. "I can very good."

"Well she clearly knows her way around well enough," Anne said, still clearly disconcerted that Nisha had snuck into her room so easily. "Should we send her trailing Adelaide, or do we have any other suspects?"

We debated until the teapot ran out. None of us had a solid idea of who might be working with Adelaide and Dulciana, so we'd settled on letting Nisha tail Adelaide to see if she was somehow evading the secret lockdown imposed by Mother. If we could cut off her means of contacting Dulciana and discover who else was spying on us, I wouldn't have to continue the painful charade, and we could finally get moving on something to help Beatriz. We could warn Frederico, perhaps even try to coordinate something with him. Or maybe, if I dared go around Father, try to reach Genevieve in Vareinne.

When Lissa arrived to remind Libby about her lessons with the queen and Adelaide, our plan was still tenuous at best, but I no longer wanted to cry or throw things, which was certainly an improvement. Anne left with Nisha to find her some servants' garb, leaving me with Andrew.

"He has a plan," he said, as we left Anne's room.

I made a frustrated noise in my throat. "I know that. But it's not one—"

"No, it's not what he told you," Andrew interrupted. "I don't know the full extent of it, but he's up to something. Even earlier, after he told you what he was going to do, he was still acting secretive once you'd left."

I paused, searching my brother's face. Did he know how cruel it was to ignite that little spark of hope again? Did he know how desperate I was for Father to come to my aid, for once?

Andrew rested a hand on my shoulder. "He's trying to help you, in his own way."

I wanted to trust him. To trust Father.

Instead, I said, "I'll belive that when I see it."

~*~

Rather than return to my room to fret and pace, Andrew coaxed me along to a fitting for our wedding formalwear. His upcoming nuptials had been the last thing on my mind, but the wedding was going to take place no matter my mental state. It wouldn't do to let the court gossip if I turned up in yet another ill-fitting suit, as disheveled as my mind.

"You two are a portrait of discontent," James said, from where he was standing before the tailor's mirrors, going through a final inspection for the fit of his formalwear.

Andrew shot him a look that stilled whatever quip was coming next.

"I imagine we are," I said darkly. "Perhaps Anne ought to join us in that discontent, what with her ringless finger and all."

Andrew fixed me with the same look he'd pinned on James, one that said to mind my tongue. I found I didn't much care. Not when grilling James about his intentions with my sister was a welcome reprieve from my far larger worries. To his credit, James stiffened right as the tailor proclaimed him perfect and ready for the wedding.

"Perhaps such talk is better suited for another time," James said stiffly, as the tailor helped him out of his formal wear.

"Then perhaps that's your cue to scurry along somwhere else," I fired back.

Andrew sighed. James, brows furrowed, took his leave. I noted his swift departure with interest. He wasn't one to cower from a fight, and if he thought he could simply duck and run from my sister—especially when he hadn't even had the decency to propose after all this time—he had another thing coming.

"You know, I was looking forward to having my closest friend here for this," Andrew said, shrugging into his wedding day finery.

"Perhaps you ought to reconsider his friendship considering how long he's taken to propose."

"He's following her lead," Andrew said, with another look that said to watch my words around the staff, as the tailor inspected him from head to hem.

"He's acting like a cad," I said, as the tailor's assistant took my measurements. "Which is surprising, considering he's notoriously not a cad."

"Have you considered," Andrew said, "That perhaps Anne hasn't made up her mind yet?"

I thought back to her blush when I'd questioned her and James when he'd loaned me a shirt on my first night back. This had been going on for far longer than anyone knew, especially if Anne had kept it all a secret since that day it began during Andrew's first season. I wondered if my brother knew. Probably not, because if he had, I highly doubt he'd be so blazé about James' lack of proposal.

"I think she has," I said. "After all, you of all people understand that when you know, you know."

Andrew caught my eye in the mirror. For a moment, something bitter coated the back of my tongue. It was so brutally unfair that my brother and my sister both had the people they loved, safe in this palace, while Beatriz was half a world away, locked in a cell.

"May we have the room, please?" Andrew said to the tailor and his assistants. It was an effort not to roll my eyes.

"Really? Are you going to scold me for being a bad little boy and running my mouth in front of th servants?" I said, facing him in my barely constructed jacket—they'd had to release the shoulder and back seams to broaden the whole thing, thanks to my adventures in Ardalone.

"I know you're hurting," Andrew said. "But you need to stop this. This is exactly why Father won't tell you anything."

"He's already told me everything he intends to say. I don't think more talk of plans for me to marry traitors will help any—"

"Oh, enough!"

It was the closest my brother had come to losing his temper since I'd returned. He tugged at his cravat, rolling his shoulders in agitation. "You need to calm down. You need to trust us. We—"

"We?" I fired back. "What aren't you telling me?"

Andrew's expression neutralized into that stone-faced armor he'd learned from Father. He was hiding something. I was sure of it.

"I'm not telling you until I can trust that you'll contol yourself. You're not alone in this, and you need to believe me. But the more you act out, the more you rage around the palace or try to enact your own frankly horrible plans, the more you're going to set us back. So let Nisha trail Adelaide, let Father work on whatever it is he has plannd, and just play your part so the rest of us can help you!"

His words struck like a slap. I didn't quite know how to feel. My fists were balled, but my throat was tight. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust them. But I couldn't. Not when Father's plan seemed to hinge on me marrying Adelaide without complaint.

"I can't sit around and do nothing like some great, useless twat," I managed finally.

"We're not asking you to do nothing. We're asking you to trust us, and to play along so that while all eyes are on you and me at the wedding, the rest of this plan can unfold with no one else the wiser."

That damned shoot of hope in my chest swelled even larger.

"You'd better not be lying to me about this," I said.

Andrew sighed. "Ardalone really has changed you." He eyed my half-sewn suit. "In more ways than one, it seems."

**A/N: WHEW it's been a minute, hasn't it?! To those of you who've checked out my new project, Faking It, I'd like to thank you for your continued support! I'm living for your comments, and frankly I'd forgotten how much fun it is to post a new story online!

The good news for Rebel Prince fans is that I think I may have found a way to write myself out of the mess I made of the ending in my first draft...so fingers crossed I don't run across any more major plot holes or problems so I can continue uploading a lot more regularly than once a year (oops lol 😅). That said, there will likely be some timeline issues in the next few chapters, so please forgive me for that. They're the kind of thing I now iron out in draft mode, but since the first 3/4 of this story has been posted online for years, it's not exactly something I can go back and change without having to change a LOT!

That said, if you enjoyed it, please take a moment to vote and comment. Happy holidays, I hope you're all staying safe and healthy, and I hope to have more for you soon!!**