Chapter Thirteen
In an instant, everything made sense.
Tyson’s magic.
His father’s disdain for the youngest prince.
His mother’s cleaving to one child over the others.
Alex knew his mother loved him. There was never any doubt of that. But with Tyson, she was different. Her mothering bordered on obsession. Even as a child, he’d been stunned when she took Tyson to her own breast despite the arguments from the wet nurse.
A queen didn’t serve her children. It was beneath her. But not Catrine Durand.
Alex rubbed his eyes. The days following his father’s death now had meaning. It’d struck him odd how deep into mourning she’d gone when she’d never appeared beholden to her husband at all.
Viktor Basile. The kingslayer. His mother had loved the man. He was sure of it now.
His fists clenche
