“Because he’s my mate?”
“I didn’t know half-breeds could have such things.”
She bared her teeth. “Real classy.”
Fire filled his eyes. “Did you not consider that I arranged for your union with Cormac out of your best interests? The interests of your offspring?”
“You mean your best interests. As if I’d ever let you within a hundred miles of any child of mine.”
“Cormac is powerful, his household strong. I want you in Avallen because it is a safehold. Even the Asteri cannot pierce its mists without permission, so old is the magic that guards it.”
Bryce stilled. “You’re full of shit.”
“Am I? Did you not kill an Archangel this spring? Are you not now at the mercy of the Asteri? Are demons not once more creeping through the Northern Rift—in greater numbers than ever before?”
“Like you give a single fuck about my safety.”
Flame rippled around him, then vanished. “I am your father, whether you like it or not.”
“You didn’t seem to care about that until I surpassed you in power.”
“Things change. I found watching Micah harm you to be … unsavory.”
“Must have really bothered you, since you’ve seemed to have no issue with harming others yourself.”
“Explain.”
“Oh, come on. Don’t give me that blank fucking look. The last Starborn Prince. You killed him because he was special and not you, and everyone knows it.”
Her father threw back his head and laughed. “Is that what you think? That I killed my rival for spite?”
She said nothing.
“Is that what prompted you to hide your gift all these years? Concern that I’d do the same to you?”
“No.” It was partly true. Her mother had been the one who’d thought that.
The Autumn King shook his head slowly and sat in the chair opposite her desk. “Ember fed you too many lies born of her irrational fears.”
“And what about the scar on her face? Was that a lie, too? Or an irrational fear?”
“I have already told you that I regret that more than you know. And that I loved Ember deeply.”
“I don’t think you know what that word means.”
Smoke curled from his shoulders. “At least I understand what it means to use my household name.”
“What?”
“Princess Bryce Danaan. That was the name you gave the Governor, as well as the director of the Crescent City Ballet, isn’t it? And what your lawyer—Marc, is it?—called you in his letter to the Astronomer, justifying the fact that you and your brother had commandeered four of his slaves.”
“So?”
Her father smiled faintly. “You purchased influence with my name. The royal name. You bought it, and there are no returns, I’m afraid.”
Her blood went cold.
“The legal paperwork for your official name change is already filed.”
“You fucking change my name and I will kill you.” Starlight flared at her chest.
“Threatening your king is punishable by death.”
“You will never be my king.”
“Oh, I am. You declared fealty by using my name, your title. It is done.” Rage surged through her, rendering her mute. He went on, enjoying every second of it, “I wonder how your mother shall react.”
Bryce shot out of her chair, slamming her hands on the desk. Light shimmered at her fingertips.
Her father didn’t so much as flinch. He looked at her hands, then her face, and said blandly, “You are now officially a Princess of the Fae. I expect you to act as such.”
Her fingers curled on the desk, her long nails gouging the wood. “You have no right.”
“I have every right. And you had the right not to use your royal privileges, but you chose otherwise.”
“I didn’t know.” He couldn’t get away with this. She’d call Marc immediately. See if he and his team could find some way out of it.
“Ignorance is no excuse,” her father said, cold amusement frosting his face. “You are now Bryce Adelaide Danaan.”
Bile burned her throat. She’d never heard anything more hateful. She was Bryce Adelaide Quinlan. She’d never stop being a Quinlan. Her mother’s daughter.
Her father continued, “You will maintain appearances with Cormac for as long as I command you to.” He rose, glancing again at her hands—the lines she’d gouged in the desk thanks to that new Vanir strength. His eyes narrowed. “What is that number there?”