Theodora’s POV
The gambling establishment's smoky interior welcomed us like old friends—which, after three years of clandestine visits, we had essentially become.
Frederick and I occupied our usual corner table, the proprietor having long since learned to reserve it on nights when the palace grew particularly suffocating.
Our common clothing hung in a concealed wardrobe near the servants' entrance, maintained by a chambermaid whose discretion we had purchased years ago with gold and genuine kindness.
These nocturnal escapes had begun shortly after Frederick's twentieth birthday, when we had discovered our shared inability to endure palace confinement without periodic rebellion.
The gambling halls, the taverns, the music venues where performers played with raw passion rather than courtly precision—these had become our sanctuary, the only spaces where we existed as merely ourselves rather than royal obligations waiting to be fulfilled.
"You're distracted this evening," Frederick observed, sliding another coin across the scarred wooden surface toward the dealer. "Normally you'd have fleeced half these gentlemen by now, yet your attention keeps wandering toward territories I suspect have nothing to do with cards."
"Perhaps I'm simply savoring the atmosphere rather than pursuing conquest."
"Perhaps pigs have developed aviation capabilities."
He collected his modest winnings with the careless grace of someone gambling for entertainment rather than necessity.
"You've checked the door seventeen times since we arrived, and your thoughts clearly occupy chambers considerably more elegant than this establishment provides."
I signaled for more wine, buying time to construct appropriate deflection. Frederick possessed unfortunate talent for perception that made concealment challenging even for someone as practiced in deception as myself.
"I find myself preoccupied with palace matters. Edmund's situation requires careful management, and our dear mother's latest scheme regarding my marital prospects demands strategic consideration."
"Mmm." Frederick's expression suggested complete disbelief. "And Lady Beatrice? Does she factor into these palace preoccupations, or does her education in 'matrimonial preparation' constitute a separate category entirely?"
The directness of his inquiry caught me unprepared, and I felt heat rising to my cheeks—a betrayal I would have thought myself incapable of producing.
"I'm certain I don't understand your implication."
"Theodora, I've watched you pursue countless diversions over the years."
His voice gentled with the particular concern he reserved for moments of genuine sibling intimacy.
"Artistic endeavors, intellectual challenges, romantic entanglements of varying intensity. Never have I observed you so thoroughly consumed by any single pursuit as you've become by Nicholas's intended bride."
"She requires guidance regarding court navigation. Sisterly duty, nothing more."
"Sisterly duty that necessitates midnight visits to your chambers? Sisterly duty that leaves you staring at empty doorways with expression suggesting profound emotional investment?" Frederick shook his head slowly. "I'm not judging, Thea. I'm worried."
The childhood nickname pierced defenses I hadn't realized I'd lowered.
Frederick alone retained permission to use it—a remnant of our shared youth when we'd been genuine allies against palace suffocation rather than merely fellow prisoners maintaining cordial relations.
"There may be... certain complexity beyond simple instruction," I admitted, the words emerging reluctantly. "I had not anticipated complications when I initiated our arrangement."
"Complications." Frederick's laugh carried no mockery, only weary recognition. "That's rather understated phrasing for whatever has you watching doors and losing card games. When precisely did calculated seduction transform into genuine attachment?"
"I refuse to examine the timeline with any precision." I drained my wine with deliberate focus on the physical sensation rather than emotional implications. "Such examination serves no practical purpose given the impossibility of the situation."
"Impossibility has never deterred you previously."
"Previous impossibilities didn't involve my brother's betrothed."
The words tasted bitter, an acknowledgment I had successfully avoided until this moment.
"Whatever I feel, and I am not prepared to articulate what I feel with any clarity, Beatrice belongs to Nicholas. That arrangement will proceed regardless of complications I may have unwisely permitted to develop."
Frederick studied me with an expression that combined sympathy and concern in proportions that made my chest ache uncomfortably.
"Does she know? Beatrice, I mean. Does she understand that your interest extends beyond educational philanthropy?"
"She understands nothing."
I laughed, though the sound carried more pain than humor.
"She believes herself engaged in practical preparation for marriage, guided by a sophisticated mentor who possesses no deeper investment in the proceedings. I have been remarkably careful to maintain that fiction."
"Have you? Because from external observation, Thea, your careful fiction appears rather transparently threadbare."
I had no response adequate to that assessment.
We departed shortly afterward, the evening's entertainment having lost its savor beneath the weight of admissions I had never intended to make.
The walk back to the palace consumed the remaining darkness, dawn beginning to paint the eastern sky with colors that reminded me unpleasantly of Beatrice's blush when I touched her.
Nicholas awaited us in the entrance hall, his expression carrying the particular disapproval he reserved for my most egregious transgressions.
"How delightful," I observed with false brightness. "A welcoming committee. To what do we owe such dedicated fraternal attention at this ungodly hour?"
"You've been seen."
Nicholas replied, his voice tight with controlled fury.
"Multiple reports of Princess Theodora gambling in establishments no respectable person would acknowledge visiting. Your reputation, such as it remains, cannot survive continued exposure to such—"
"My reputation serves me precisely as I require it to serve." I swept past him with deliberate unconcern. "Perhaps you might concern yourself with matters actually within your authority rather than monitoring my recreational activities."
"Your recreational activities reflect upon the entire family. Upon the crown itself." Nicholas followed, his footsteps sharp against marble. "Have you considered for one moment how your behavior affects others? How it provides ammunition for those who would question our family's fitness to rule?"
"I have considered that our family's fitness to rule depends rather more on actual governance than on which establishments I frequent during private hours."
I turned to face him, allowing anger I typically concealed to surface with dangerous intensity.
"But please, continue lecturing me about duty and propriety. Your sanctimonious certainty never fails to inspire."
"Sanctimonious… I am attempting to protect this family from consequences you seem determined to court."
Nicholas's composure cracked visibly.
"Your influence corrupts everyone it touches—Lavinia imitates your sharp tongue without understanding its costs, Sebastian finds your rebellion romantic rather than destructive, and now…"
He stopped abruptly, but I sensed the unspoken name hovering between us.
"Now what, Nicholas? Please, complete your catalogue of my corrupting influence."
"Now Beatrice defends you against criticism she should recognize as entirely justified."
His voice carried confusion alongside anger.
"A woman who barely knew you weeks ago suddenly argues for your hidden depths and misunderstood complexity. What precisely have you been teaching her during your sisterly guidance sessions?"
The question struck dangerously close to truth, and I felt my pulse quicken with mingled panic and possessive fury.
"Perhaps Beatrice possesses intelligence sufficient to form her own assessments rather than accepting your characterizations uncritically. Perhaps she recognizes that your dutiful compliance represents rather less attractive quality than you assume."
"Leave Beatrice out of your cynical commentary." Nicholas stepped closer, his expression hardening with protective intensity that made something violent twist in my chest. "Whatever grievances exist between us, she deserves better than becoming ammunition in our conflicts."
"She deserves better than many things she's likely to receive," I shot back, the words carrying weight he couldn't possibly comprehend. "But by all means, continue believing your gentle consideration provides everything she requires. I'm certain she appreciates your... thoroughness."
"What exactly are you implying?"
The possessive fury I had been suppressing threatened to erupt into declarations that would destroy everything.
I wanted to claim ownership, to announce that Beatrice's education had progressed far beyond anything his innocent courtship provided, that she responded to my touch with passion his careful affection would never inspire.
Instead, I forced glacial composure over volcanic emotion.
"I'm implying nothing whatsoever. Merely observing that your confidence in her satisfaction seems rather presumptuous for a man who has yet to secure anything beyond chaste kisses and proper conversation."
Nicholas's face flushed with fury that suggested my observation had struck home with uncomfortable accuracy.
"Stay away from her, Theodora. Whatever games you're playing, whatever manipulation you're attempting—I won't allow you to poison my engagement as you've poisoned everything else in this family."
"Your engagement requires no assistance from me to develop complications."
I turned away before my expression could betray the anguish his words provoked.
"But rest assured, brother—I shall maintain appropriate distance from your precious intended. Wouldn't want to corrupt her with my influence."
I walked away without looking back, though I felt his gaze boring into my spine with suspicion that would only intensify in coming days.
Frederick caught up with me near my chambers, his expression carrying the particular concern that had characterized our earlier conversation.
"That was rather more vicious than your typical exchanges."
"Yes." I didn't trust myself to elaborate.
"Thea..."
He hesitated, clearly weighing whether to voice whatever observation pressed for expression.
"Be careful. Whatever exists between you and Lady Beatrice—be careful. Nicholas suspects something, even if he cannot identify what precisely troubles him. And if he discovers the truth..."
"There is no truth to discover," I lied, the words tasting like ash. "Only sisterly guidance that has reached its natural conclusion."
But as my chamber door closed behind me, I confronted the devastating reality I could no longer deny.
Beatrice belonged to Nicholas. And I was falling in love with her anyway.