## The Trap
"What if a red-haired child is born in Temnes?" Valquiterre asked casually, as though discussing the weather.
Kaian's jaw tightened. "That's ridiculous to even consider."
"Isn't it possible? Vermont blood would show—"
"It's a terrible thing," Kaian said coldly, "that dirty blood would mix. You can't cut a child in half."
He hated saying it. Every word felt like a lie because the moment he'd learned Claudel was pregnant, he'd rushed to his office and written down his feelings in his private journal. *The baby will be Temnes's heir. My child. Mine.*
He'd felt the small, hard presence beneath her belly button. He'd bought pregnancy gifts in the marketplace that afternoon, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might burst free.
But Claudel hadn't told him yet. Which meant Valquiterre somehow knew before she'd even informed her own husband.
*Why is he bringing this up? Why now?*
Kaian's suspicions flared, but he pushed them down. He trusted Valquiterre as family. And he trusted Claudel with his life. If some anxiety had disturbed her, it was nothing more than temporary disturbance.
He was wrong to underestimate how a woman, worn down and frightened, might be manipulated.
He was wrong not to suspect that Valquiterre—the cousin he considered a brother—might have his own dark agenda.
"The Duke of Vermont might have expectations about the child," Valquiterre continued, his blue eyes watching Kaian's reactions carefully.
"If he cared about Claudel, he wouldn't have let her into the den of her enemies," Kaian replied harshly. "And no child with red hair and golden eyes should be born in Temnes."
Valquiterre nodded slowly, as if something had finally occurred to him. "I suppose succession must be determined. The bloodline must be pure."
Kaian heard the words and felt something in his chest twist. This was manipulation—subtle, deliberate, calculated.
But he also heard something else. A soft noise from behind a nearby curtain.
He turned sharply. "Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?" Valquiterre's expression didn't change. He smoothly refilled Kaian's wine glass. "Let's call it a night. Our last drink together before I return to the capital."
Kaian drank, his mind churning. But the wine was strong, and his focus slipped.
He didn't see Valquiterre's smile as he left.
---
## Valquiterre's Truth
Once Kaian was gone, Valquiterre walked to the closet and opened the door.
"It's safe now. You can come out."
Claudel emerged, tears streaming down her face, her entire body trembling.
"Kaian..." she whispered brokenly.
Valquiterre pulled her into an embrace, and she collapsed against him, sobbing silently.
"Don't cry," he murmured. "I told you—I'll help you. I'll make sure he accepts the baby."
As he held her, Valquiterre's mind drifted to a childhood memory.
The seesaw. He'd fallen hard on his buttocks, and the pain had kept him awake all night. Unable to sleep, he'd wandered the halls of Rowen Castle like a leaf caught in the wind.
When he finally returned to bed, he found Madame Elise in Kaian's room, gently applying medicine to a bruise on her son's forehead.
*You're going to get bruises,* she'd whispered tenderly, her small sigh filled with maternal love.
Valquiterre had watched her gentle hands care for Kaian and felt his mother's coldness in sharp contrast. His mother had never touched him with such affection.
Every loving gesture toward Kaian felt like a rejection of Valquiterre himself.
And now, holding Claudel as she wept, Valquiterre understood his own nature.
He didn't want Claudel for love.
He wanted her because Kaian had her.
He wanted to take what Kaian loved most and remake the world where *he* was favored, where *he* was worthy of tender hands and gentle care.
"I will help you," he promised, stroking her red hair. "I will make sure the baby is accepted. Trust me."
She believed him because she was desperate and alone.
She didn't know she was trusting a man whose childhood wound had never healed—a man who would use her despair as a weapon against the cousin who had always been favored by fate.
---