Luccan’s stomach tightened. Stars, it could not have been worse.
Hadia was of the Sacred Eight, which most fae likely considered a great blessing for the House of Riis—but the Ithamai family were lawful in the extreme.
By the dead gods, Luccan had been brought up in a brothel, and his brother tookgreatpleasure in illegal gambling! He himself was a bleeding gatemaker! Luccan’s powerwas illegal save for when used at the king’s will, which he did not intend to do.
But most importantly, Luccan did not enjoy the company ofanyonein House Ithamai. So while he bowed his head, he was already planning a way to get out of this.
The plan halted abruptly when the king cleared his throat. “Lord Vidar Virtoris, would you approach?”
Luccan blinked, as his friend, Sayyida’s older brother and the heir to House Virtoris, stepped out of the front of the crowd and approached the throne.
“My king?” Vidar appeared as confused as Luccan.
“Considering your sister’s refusal to accept her betrothal as ordered by the Crown, I can no longer accept you as a husband for my only daughter.”
The crowd gasped, and Luccan’s breath stilled in his chest. He cut a glance at Saga. Tears had formed in her eyes.
“King Magnus,” Vidar spoke as if he could not believe what was happening. “I apologize for my sister’s actions, but Saga and I?—”
“PrincessSaga is no longer any of your concern,” the king interrupted. “From this day forward, my daughter is betrothed to Lord Roar Lisika.”
“My king,” Vidar’s voice broke as he spoke. “I understand your wishes. Might I take my leave?”
The king released him, and to no one’s shock at all, Lady Fayeth Virtoris stomped out of the throne room after her son and heir. No one stopped her. A smart choice. The Lady of Ships looked ready to call her formidable armadato war. Poor Njal had to remain behind, his brown cheeks red as the king took his throne again.
Luccan expected to be dismissed, but instead, the king waved away those standing before him, directing them back into the crowd.
“Now that the Courting Festival business is done for the day,” King Magnus said, “Clawsguards, show in the criminals.”
“Duran,” he whispered as the door to the throne room opened, and knights shoved his friend inside.
The dwarf, a part of the cabal and lärling at the House of Wisdom, caught Luccan’s eyes, shook his head so minutely that Luccan was sure most missed the gesture. Duran’s misshapen hands were bound by manacles and shackles ringed his ankles with just enough chain between them so that he could walk.
Luccan hadn’t talked to Duran since that night in the Warmsnap Tavern. The night Vale had gotten drunk because Neve had been acting indifferent towards him. Duran had seemed odd that night. But a criminal? There had to be a mistake.
Deciding not to return to the back where his brothers waited, Luccan slipped into the front of the crowd, determined to hear what was said about Duran Urgi, hoping that the dwarf’s father, a Master Smith working at the castle, was not present to watch.
A soldier shoved Duran toward the base of the thrones, where the dwarf knelt, and looked up at the king. Wisely, he said nothing.
“Duran Urgi, is it?” King Magnus asked.
As if Duran had not grownup playing with Vale in the castle yard and the dwarf’s father did not make the bestzupriansteel weapons in all of Avaldenn. Of which, the king owned plenty.
“It is, my king.” Duran bowed his head.
“You’ve been caught brewing Liar’s Salvation. Do you deny it?”
“I—no, my king.” The words sounded strangled coming out of Duran’s throat.
“You brewed it for Princess Neve, did you not?”
Murmurs washed through the room.
“I did.”
Bleeding skies. Why didn’t Vale mention this?
“A clear admission. That’s all I required,” the king said, then with a wave of his hand, he spoke to his guards. “Take this male to the dungeons. Lock him up.”
