I looked first to Claude, and then to Zafir to judge their reactions to Xander’s rant. I don’t know why it mattered, but I needed to know if they’d been told yet, if they knew who I was.

Zafir appeared bored, his brown eyes glazed over. Claude looked incensed, as if he’d like to personally snap every neck in the room.

I was suddenly self-conscious in their presence, knowing they were still unaware.

“You could have hurt her,” Xander continued, treacherously quiet. “I expect you to protect her with your lives. All of you.” And then he said the words that made my stomach twist. “As if you were protecting your future queen.” He reached Eden and lifted his fingers to her cheek, the ropy muscles of his forearm visibly tense. He ran his hand along the side of her face, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “Do I make myself clear?”

Jumbled emotions surrounded her like a thundercloud: fear, regret, devotion, and something that felt unexpectedly close to passion. A tear slipped from her closed eyes, cutting a path down her face. She nodded, opening her black eyes once more and staring, not at Xander but past him, to where I stood.

“I understand,” she vowed, swearing her fealty to me.

“How is this possible? She’s a simple merchant girl you met in a club.̶ J be A.̶ J1; Claude raised his voice, shouting now in the Royal tongue. He had refused to look at me since Xander’s men had holstered their weapons. Since Xander had dropped the bomb about who I was.

Zafir seemed more open to the idea. “How do you expect your grandmother to react when she finds out?”

The reminder that Queen Sabara—the woman who Xander and his revolutionaries were waging war against—was Max’s grandmother was jarring. It was something I shouldn’t forget, I told myself. I had no idea where Max’s loyalties lay.

“She’ll be thrilled,” Xander interjected. “Why shouldn’t she be? Charlie could be the heir she’s been searching for, the one her own family was unable to provide. And I intend to make certain the old woman never gets her hands on her.”

Zafir tipped his head, as if accepting Xander’s cryptic statements. I, however, remained in the dark.

I glared at them all, unable to keep my opinion silent any longer: “I have no intention of taking the queen’s place.”

Only Claude and Zafir reacted to my interruption, reminding me that they were still unaware of my ability to comprehend the Royal tongue.

“She interprets?” An expectant smile lit Zafir’s stony face.

“She does,” I replied tersely, as if he’d been speaking to me.

He hadn’t been. “What else can she do?”

Max answered. In Englaise. “Nothing that she’s aware of, but time will tell.”

It was the first time I’d considered that possibility, that I might be capable of more than just deciphering the languages of others.

“What of the child? Has she displayed a proficiency yet?” This was Claude, sounding irritated by the discovery. The only difference was that he addressed me directly.

“No.” Max shook his head, and I guessed that he’d taken my silence when we were at my house as a denial.

Xander draped his arm around Eden’s neck. It was a brotherly gesture—like comrades—and I wondered how long they’d been fighting together. “We need to figure out what our next step will be.” He raised his eyebrows expectantly. “I, for one, think it’s time to let Sabara know we have Charlie.”

“What about my parents? And Aron?” I cried, tired of being spoken about as if I were livestock, cattle for them to do with as they chose. “We need to get them back.”

Xander’s expression turned serious, and his words were callously indifferent. “It may already be too late for them. They can’t be our concern right now,” he explained.

“No, no, no! You don’t get it!” I shook my head, crossing my arms defiantly. “They are your concern.” I glowered at him and at Eden, and then turned to face Max. “Do you think it’s too late? Do you?” I demanded.

Max moved toward me. “I don’ J be A#8217; Jt think they’re dead, if that’s what you’re asking.” He frowned, watching me intently, his intense gray eyes boring into me, delving into my psyche and searching for cracks in my spirit as if the weight of this bit of information—or the next—might be too much. “But my grandmother is ruthless, and if she thinks there’s even a chance they might know where you are . . .”

I spun on Xander once more, not wanting Max to finish his sentence, or even to contemplate the words he hadn’t said. “You see? They’re alive,” I rasped, demanding that he pay attention to me. “I need to go there.” Then to Max, I said, “I need you to arrange a meeting with your grandmother.”

“It’s a bad idea, Charlie,” Xander explained to me, and I took it as a good sign that he was no longer shouting at me. “Sabara can’t be trusted.”

“You can’t reason with her,” Claude insisted, repeating the words he’d already stated several times.

“They’re right, Charlie,” Max agreed. “She’s both my queen and my grandmother, and I don’

t trust her. She’ll say, and do, almost anything if it means getting her way.” He reached for my hands as if somehow he could convince me through his touch.

I was tired of having this conversation. They were my parents—what was I supposed to do? I withdrew my hands, watching as his fingers slipped through mine. “I have to,” I whispered. “Please, just make it happen.”