As soon as the Prince catches sight of Sinclair and me, his eyes flash with obvious rage. He's clearly surprised to see us, though he must have known I survived the hunt. When none of his rogues returned to confirm my death, he would have immediately realized what happened. Still, I'm sure he expected Sinclair to keep me home at all costs.

Despite his fury, the Prince quickly masks his emotions and stalks toward us. I can feel Sinclair vibrating with dangerous energy, and I lean into him, letting him feel my warmth and breathe in my scent. He's making low grumbling sounds—not the kind he makes when kissing or scent-marking me, which tells me his wolf is pleased. These sounds are different: sharp and vicious, hinting at barely contained aggression.

"It's okay," I whisper. "He can't do anything here."

"I'll kill him," Sinclair snarls under his breath. "You need to leave before this gets ugly."

I can tell Sinclair is losing control, and his wolf is urging him to protect the baby, even if it costs him the campaign. Killing the Prince would eliminate the competition, but it wouldn't look good for a future king. I don't understand shifter society well enough to be sure, but my instincts tell me a death match on one of the most sacred days of the year is a bad idea.

"I'm not going anywhere," I answer firmly.

"Ella, I wasn't asking," Sinclair snaps, pinning me with his most intimidating gaze.

The fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, and I feel the urge to cower before the predator towering over me. But I can't bring a pup into the world without Sinclair, and I'm not going to risk him being jailed or exiled. "You can threaten and punish me however you like," I remark coolly, pretending my knees haven't turned to jelly. "But I promised not to leave your side, and I meant it."

Sinclair's powerful arm squeezes my waist, pulling me closer, though our bodies were already touching. He drops his lips to my ear. "This is not the time to test me, little human."

Before I can respond, the Prince appears. Acting on instinct, I start to pull away from Sinclair, forcing him to pull me back, keeping his hands occupied holding me instead of ripping the Prince to shreds. "Happy Solstice, Dominic," the Prince greets, before turning his wolfish gaze to me. "Ella. You're looking very well."

Another growl rends the air, but I move directly in front of Sinclair, creating a human barrier between the wolves. I lean my back into Sinclair's chest, encouraging him to wrap his arms around me and rest his palms over the baby. "Thank you," I smile, trying to sound genuine. "We're so pleased to be here—though I'm afraid our masks didn't do much to disguise us." I laugh falsely.

Sinclair is muttering a steady stream of threats in my head, using his connection with the baby to make his voice echo in my mind. He compliments me even as he promises to punish me for my interference, and I run my fingers through his silky hair, soothing him even though I'm making myself the target of his outrage. You're in so much trouble, you magnificent, fearless little angel. What are you thinking?

"Ah well, it's hard to go incognito when you're as famous as you two," the Prince grins, creating a conniving, cruel expression. "It seems like I can't open the newspaper these days without seeing you two staring back at me."

I shrug gently; an audience is forming, drawn in by the magnetic pull of watching two competing alphas. "It's amazing, isn't it? You'd think people would have gotten bored of us by now."

You're too clever for your own good. Dominic is saying, making it very difficult for me to focus on the Prince’s response. I need to make him pay for what he did. I need to kill him.

"Well, there's no accounting for taste—especially among commoners," the Prince remarks snidely.

"Forgive me," I answer boldly, speaking loudly enough for the onlookers to hear. "But weren't you a commoner until your father became King? It seems awfully callous to write off so many people just because they haven't been as lucky as you. After all, that's why you're in this position—isn't it? Luck?" A stark murmur runs through the crowd.

When we get home I'm going to put you right back over my knee and this time I'm not going to let you get away without coming at least three times, you brilliant, impossible creature. At this point, I press one of my stilettos into Sinclair's foot, needing him to shut up before I become so aroused that the entire room can smell my desire. Of course, he only responds with a low chuckle. That might work if you weighed more than a field mouse, little one. But that's okay—I won't forget that you tried to stomp on me again.

"What interesting ideas your mate has, Dominic," the Prince comments, looking over my head to speak to Sinclair with barely contained rage. He obviously hates being shown up in public, but he's in the same position as Sinclair, trapped by convention. "I wonder if you might release her for a dance? I'd be very curious to speak with her further."

"I don't think so," Sinclair growls, before I can respond. "Ella is struggling with morning sickness; too much dancing might trigger it."

Sighing, I tilt my face up to his, urging him to lower his ear to my mouth. I wish I could speak to him through the baby, the way he does with me, but I also know that the more intimate we appear for the media, the better the reports will seem. "It's okay," I insist. "He won't hurt me with you watching."

No. He responds immediately. You’re mine, he can’t have you—even for a dance.

"Dominic, he underestimates me. He thinks I'm a dumb commoner; I might be able to get information from him that he wouldn't admit to you," I reason. "And it would look good to the council. I doubt they want it to appear like there's a risk of civil war between the alphas."

I hate this. Sinclair complains in my head. I need you to be safe. I need him to be dead.

"You need to win. The baby and I need you to win, and you can't do that if we make a scene here," I counter.

Goddess, damn it! The next thing I know, Sinclair has spun me to face him. His mouth claims mine with urgent need, drawing a whimper from my lips as I open for his questing tongue. I'm sure the Prince is still standing behind us, impotently waiting for us to reach a decision. We pay him no mind. Instead, I let Sinclair ravish me for all to see, stealing kiss after kiss from my swollen mouth and nibbling my neck before he releases me. I’ll be right here. If you need me, just send me a look, and I’ll be there.

"I promise," I confirm. "I'll ask for help if I need it."

You better! Sinclair claims one last kiss before letting me go, glaring at the Prince over my head. "Make it quick."

I turn and accept the Prince's outstretched hand, shaking off Sinclair when he doesn't immediately release me. Gradually he does, though I can see him in my periphery, following our progress as we move onto the dance floor.

"Dominic is very protective of you," the Prince observes, glancing at the wolf currently stalking us.

"Aren't you protective of your mate?" I reply. "I thought all alphas were that way—all true alphas, that is."

The Prince's wolf glows in his eyes, and I know I've struck a chord. I'm not sure where I found the courage to question his dominance. Maybe it's the baby, or maybe Sinclair is rubbing off on me—either way, it's difficult to be afraid of the Prince when I spend all my time with a man who is ten times more powerful.

"Hmph," the Prince murmurs, barely containing his ire. "I suppose."

We dance for a few moments, and I try not to pay attention to Sinclair. I try to focus on the steps and not make a fool of myself, but I'm painfully conscious of the emerald eyes glued to my back.

"You know—I had my investigators look into you," the Prince declares abruptly, as if he's talking about running an errand rather than invading my privacy.

"Did you?" I counter, making an effort to sound nonchalant. However, the little voice in my head is struggling not to panic. If his investigators searched for me in the Bloodbane pack, they won't have found anything. And if they searched for me here, they might have discovered my true identity. "And tell me, what did you find?"

"Well, it's the strangest thing," the Prince replies, suddenly looking like a hunter going in for the kill. "They didn't find anything. Not a single thing."