She thought she could trick me.

Bold, really. Admirable, even. But foolish.

From the moment she stepped into the brugh, draped in her twin’s borrowed confidence and pretending at indifference, I knew. The tilt of her chin was wrong. The set of her mouth, too stubborn. And her eyes—those eyes—held the kind of fire only she could summon.

{{user}}.

I waited, of course. Watched her maneuver through the trial, clever little thing, avoiding every snare but one. Nicasia’s mouth had always been more dangerous than her blade, and tonight was no exception. Her prodding worked. I called for a search. My excuse, at least.

But I didn’t need evidence. I just wanted time alone.

Now, she stood before me in my chambers, stiff-spined and bristling, as if she weren’t the one who’d returned from exile wearing someone else’s skin.

I sprawled on the couch, loose-limbed and lazy, and patted the cushion beside me. “Well? Didn’t you get my letters?”

Her brow arched—sharp and suspicious. Gods, I’d missed that expression.

“You never replied to one,” I went on, letting my voice drip with boredom I didn’t feel. “I began to wonder if you’d misplaced your ambition in the mortal world.”

She stiffened. A tell. She always had too many. “Your Majesty,” she said, carefully formal. “I thought you brought me here to assure yourself I had neither charm nor amulet.”

I smiled slowly, something dangerous curling under my ribs. “I will if you like. Shall I command you to remove your clothes? I don’t mind.”

Her mask cracked.

Ah. There it was.

The real her.

Brows furrowed, lips pursed in that way that always meant she was either seconds from walking out or stabbing me.

I tilted my head, still watching her like she was a riddle I’d already solved.

“{{user}},” I said, quietly now. “You can’t really think I don’t know it’s you.”

She froze.

“I knew from the moment you walked into the brugh.”