Things had been hot and cold between us, mostly because he’d had more time—too much time—to consider his parentage. As far as I was concerned, as a father, Lord Riis was a great improvement over King Magnus. The kingdom would be better off with the current king being dead—or at the very least, tossed in a cell that was rarely visited.
“He’s perfect for me,” I admitted. “But this journey has brought up feelings that we’re working through.”
“I understand.” She sounded wistful, and I was pretty sure I knew why. I’d heard that tone before from Anna when she’d spoken of a boy she fancied.
“Do you think of Arie often?” I asked.
“Yes. He’s different from other people I’ve met. Which I realize seems obvious, seeing as I grew up with slaves and around vampires, and he’s a fae lord who had everything he ever wanted at his fingertips, but it feels deeper.”
“You like him?”
“I do. And I know it’s crazy to say this, but I think there could be more between us too, if this place changed.”
My stomach tightened in understanding. Arie was a faerie, a male of the Sacred Eight.
Anna was a human.
It was one thing for a commoner fae to be raised so high in fae society. Far less likely for a fae slave to do the same, but not unthinkable. A partnership between a human and a noble lord, however, was as likely as the dead gods returning to Isila.
But if I spoke my truth, if I claimed my real name and fought King Magnus for the throne, I could be a catalyst for the change Anna and Arie needed to be together. I could do so much good. My chest seemed to squeeze hard as I stood.
“You would be perfect together.” I hefted my basket. “Better get this to the fire to melt.”
Anna said nothing as I returned to my work, my head buzzing, and my heart heavy with conflict.
Interlude
KING MAGNUS AABERG, THE WHITE BEAR, PROTECTOR OF WINTER’S REALM
The throne sat cold beneath him, as frigid as many of the gazes in the crowd—of which the king noted every single one.
Enemies of my house will be punished.
The Courting Festival, the pain in the arse it was becoming, had once seemed so brilliant. A way to not only form marriage alliances that would benefit House Aaberg for many turns to come, but to discover where the Ice Scepter might be hiding. Of the Hallows the king knew existed—all lost to him—the Scepter, with its ability to influence the magic of the realm, was the most important. The one he might actually be able to get his hands on too.
The lord or lady who stole the Hallow and kept it in their possession for all these turns would, in theory, be more powerful than the rest. And if said lord or lady were smart, they’d bring it before the Crown Drassil for a blessing.
But the king had people watching the holy tree, and no one had approached the Drassil. No one Head of Houseseemed far more powerful than the rest either. Well, no one save for the king himself. Fitting, really, after all his positioning and training to be the strongest in the land. He’d worked too hard, schemed and fought mercilessly, to sit upon the Throne of Winter, and he had to believe that if the Ice Scepter thief was at court, he’d find them. Then he’d take the Hallow he desired most of the three, the only one seen since the Rebellion, and use it to meet his ends.
King Magnus’s fingers curled around the throne’s armrest, frost creeping over the royal blue velvet. “Wherearethey?”
Behind, a Clawsguard cleared his throat. “The ship arrived an hour ago, Majesty. They should be here at any moment.”
How long did it take to leave a boat? To walk through his city and bring news from the Blood Court? Magnus huffed. Skies above, Lord Sten Armenil always took his bleeding time and time was not a luxury the king felt he had much of. With Red Assassins terrorizing Avaldenn, and his son and the whore who’d caused this whole mess missing, King Magnus wanted answersnow.
He was about to demand more information from his Clawsguard, but remembered the person behind him was not Lars, his favored guard of many turns. Now dead, but faithful to the end. No, this guard was new and not of the same caliber as Lars, and likely did not have more information to give. Since Lars died in the rebellion’s massacre at the Royal Theater, the king had gone through two other Clawsguards, both not up to his standards.These failings displeased theking to no end.
“I could go check, Father.” Saga leaned forward in her throne, a smaller version of his own.
She and Rhistel had answered his summons, both sitting dutifully to his left. On his right, however, Queen Inga’s throne remained empty.
Magnus exhaled a long, frustrated breath. Perhaps no one had found Inga. Or more likely, someone spoke to her, and she’d whispered to them, made them believe they’d never found her. Frustrating as it was, his queen only did his bidding whenshewished.
Or when he pressed and dangled her secret over her head, which he knew better than to do often.
“The docks might be busy?” His sweet daughter leaned forward a touch more, ready to leave, though King Magnus did not believe it was purely to help. Since yesterday, Saga’s friend Sayyida had been absent from court. He suspected his youngest wished to look for the troublemaking Virtoris wench at the harbor.
“No need,” King Magnus replied as an entourage wearing the light gray cloaks and wolf broaches of House Armenil entered. One carried a small chest. “They’ve finally shown up.” He pointed to the base of the stairs leading up to the thrones, eyes scanning the guards and then behind.
