He wished he could have forced the gateway into permanent existence. Then they could have returned to safety that same day, and he would have no questions. But Luccan was not yet that skilled in the magic of gatemaking. It had cost him much to create that one gateway in such a hurry. He’d been weakened for a fortnight after and had only recently ridden himself of the dark circles under his eyes.
“Fates, do you think the king is ever going to show?” Arie muttered. “This is a waste of time. I was in the middle of researching”
“Stars forbid you pull your head out of a book for a moment,” Thantrel teased.
Arie’s jaw set tight. “I’ve been reading histories, learning about the noble families and their traditional alliances. Might be helpful, don’t you think?”
Luccan stiffened. Yes, the histories would be helpful. Especially if Neve came to court. Should she claim the throne in the name of her dead kin, the realm might divide. Then, war.
In contrast to Luccan’s reaction, Thantrel shrugged as if he did not care, though he surely understood the serious ramifications of what might come to pass. The youngest Riis brother was as clever as his elder siblings. He simply hid that intelligence in favor of exuding a larger-than-life personality.
Before Luccan could inquire deeper into what Arie found, Princess Saga entered the throne room on the arm of Vidar Virtoris, finally healthy enough to walk about the castle after the attack on the Royal Theater. Vidar’s side remained bandaged, and he still walked with a slight limp, but both matters would resolve in time—or so the castle healers assured his family and friends.
Luccan loosed a long breath. The healers had also released Sir Qildor. If Vale did not return in three more days, Luccan would call the cabal members together. He couldn’t tell Vidar, Qildor, Duran, or Sian about Neve being a Falk princess. But he could at least suggest the brotherhood send out feelers and search for Vale. That seemed safe enough.
The queen appeared at the door to the throne room, dressed in Aaberg blue and gold. She filed down the long runner to her throne. Prince Rhistel followed a moment later. The rapacious Lord Roar, who looked far too pleased with himself, trailed them, and the king appeared last, his white fur cloak billowing behind him. Two Clawsguards flanked the White Bear, their faces set like stone.
King Magnus did not delay in taking his throne. Lord Roar tucked himself away at the edge of the crowd nearest the golden seats.
What could the Warden of the West have possibly said to get back in King Magnus’s good graces? The king had been humiliated when Roar left court right after the king approved his betrothal to Neve—so humiliated that he’d put Neve in great danger and claimed to want Roar’s head. And yet, now the Lord of the House of the Snow Leopard stood smugly before the king.
“Today, I have many more matches to set,” King Magnus boomed without preamble. “The following subjects approach the thrones.”
He rattled off names, those of members of lower houses, some of whom Luccan had spoken to but did not know well. Most did not live in Avaldenn where Luccan spent nearly all his time.
“Hadia Ithamai,” King Magnus continued, and that name got Luccan’s attention. Which was lucky, as his name was the very next spoken.
Luccan shared a wary glance with his brothers. Before him, fae parted, knowing who he was, allowing the flame-haired lordling to pass with ease. Swallowing, Luccan approached the throne.
Clemencia’s sweet face swam through his mind. She had not been born noble, but Luccan didn’t care. He hadn’t been either. Raised a bastard, Luccan’s legitimization came only mere weeks ago. All that mattered to Luccan was that he loved Clemencia, though he hadn’t told her as much. He would, though, when the time was right.
The king called three more names, all from houses of the Sacred Eight: Eireann Balik, Baenna Balik, and Njal Virtoris. At the last, Luccan’s throattightened.
Since Sayyida Virtoris’s disappearance from court, the king had beenfuriouswith House Virtoris. Luccan was not sure that things would go well for young Njal, only nineteen turns old and the quietest of the Virtoris clan.
Luccan joined the line up, standing between Baenna and Njal. With everyone present, the king stood.
“The first match of the day is for Lady Baenna Balik. She will wed Lord Arvis of Kethor. Her sister, Lady Eireann Balik, will soon be the lady of House Skuld of Vantalia.”
Luccan’s lips parted slightly before he corrected his expression into one of approval that the king would expect.
House Arvis and House Skuld were lower banner houses from the midlands and easternlands. These were not marriages that Lord Balik, Warden of the South, would have negotiated for his daughters. King Magnus knew that too. Which meant the king was fishing to see if House Balik, like Houses Armenil and Virtoris, would fight his selection.
But Lord Tadgh Balik was a wise and patient fae. He remained silent, and his daughters also wore masks, though Luccan was sure he could see Baenna’s hand trembling. They weren’t that close, but they ran in the same circles. And Luccan had always enjoyed the Balik sister’s company. He wished he could reach out to comfort Baenna, but not now. Not here.
The king made other matches for those of lesser houses. They appeared, if not quite pleased, not upset by their matches.
“Njal Virtoris.” The king turned to the second youngest in the Virtoris family and the last member of that Salt andSerpent bloodline who was of age to become betrothed. “You will wed Lady Eyja of House Ra.”
Luccan averted his eyes. Another midlands match for the Virtoris family. Another lesser noble house that was neither wealthy nor powerful.
Behind, the crowds shifted, and Luccan looked into the masses to find the Lady of Ships staring daggers at the king. Njal might not be a skilled sailor like his older siblings, but the Virtoris family bled saltwater. Lady Virtoris would see House Ra’s ranking as the slight, but that they were landlocked was an additional, deeper insult. However, unlike when Sayyida received news of her match to Jarl Salizier, this time, Lady Fayeth Virtoris said nothing. She’d learned, and to that, the king gave an oily smile.
“Only two matches remain.” The king turned his gaze on Luccan.
He rolled back his shoulders, knowing that no matter what King Magnus said, Luccan would not like the outcome. He would not like any name that did not belong to Clemencia of Guldtown.
“Lord Luccan Riis, you will wed none other than the stunning Lady Hadia Ithamai.”
