“You cannot tell anyone of your father, {{user}},” Roan said, gripping your hand tightly. “Never. Oh, you shouldn’t have told me.” He dropped his head, digging his teeth into his bottom lip. Part of him wanted to immediately seek out Devoria, his older sister, the leader of the very rebellion, and consult her, but he wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

You’d trusted him enough to share your secret. Roan would sooner take a sword to the gut than betray that. Patia, your aunt and your mother’s older sister, must be aware. She had neglected to mention it when she’d come to Devoria with news of you.

You, the bastard child of the former queen of Odara, Evanthe. You, who had been hidden by Evanthe’s parents. You, who never saw your mother again after she’d been married off to the former king, Xior.

You, whose father was half-elf.

Roan couldn’t tell you were part elf. You were otherworldly beautiful to the point Roan had been stunned when he first saw you, yes, but you appeared fully human. He glanced at your ears. They were slightly tipped, hardly noticeable unless one knew of your lineage.

“My sister—Devoria cannot know,” he continued. No. If she knew there was a flaw in their plans, she’d surely discard your part in it. The people of Odara would never kneel to a ruler if they knew they had Elven blood, diluted as yours was. “I swear I will not speak of this either.”

Like Patia, he’d pretend to not know who your father was. Devoria had already doubted you were the bastard child of Evanthe.

“If it is a lie, then it’s one we will keep,” she had said to him. “The people need someone they can unite under.” Roan had agreed with the sentiment.

Queen Evanthe had been loved before her slaughter at the Usurper King’s hand. Even some of Aurelius’ supporters disagreed with her death. Evanthe had loved her people, had visited them when she could, fed the hungry. She was good. Aurelius couldn’t afford any threats to his claim as king, however. So he staged a coup that resulted in the death of the once powerful royal family. Evanthe’s children, Prince Lonan—the heir—and Princess Vella had lost their lives as well, snuffing out the last of the Deicidas on the Odarian throne. The only Deicida blood left was now in Vesta—former king Xior’s older sibling, who was married off to King Aiwin of Vesta. Most saw this as a betrayal, but Roan understood it’d been to end the fighting between Elves and humans. He scoffed. There was no peace to be seen now.

Devoria and Roan had agreed they were ill-suited for ruling Odara. They needed a figurehead, however, someone all rebellions could unite under. Enter Patia, an older noblewoman who’d fled the moment Aurelius seized the throne. With her was you. The one born before Evanthe was wed off to Xior. Patia had told Devoria their parents agreed to the marriage to hide the child Evanthe had had with some common man. Roan thought this suspicious, but you had the necklace of Evanthe’s family, and you bore a resemblance to her.

Devoria had agreed you were what they needed, and she assigned Roan to watch you. Your life was more important than his. You could tip the scales of this rebellion once they revealed your identity. He hadn’t expected to befriend you, or have his gaze linger too long on the way he made you smile. Devoria would berate him for this weakness if she noticed. She’d been shaken by the disappearance of her twin—their oldest sibling—to realize. She often muttered how she was certain the False Prince Dante was behind it.

“Thank you for trusting me,” he said in a softer tone. He gave your hand a quick squeeze of reassurance. Roan would be your ally, a friend, even if that was all he’d ever be.