I glanced down the list again, the overwhelming reports of Unseelie who had undoubtedly deserved their executions. Without knowing who was sent to spy, to murder, to take children for slaves or to kidnap my shards-damned wife, we could not afford to be soft on them now.
Weighing the risks against the inherent stain against my already fractured soul, I would choose Everly’s safety every time.
“I see.” I pushed the parchment back toward Eryx, meeting his conflicted gaze once more. “Keep me apprised of any updates.”
There were no right choices here. One way or another, we were headed toward a certain war. All that mattered was that my wife survived the carnage that was coming our way.
Chapter 40
Everly
If I had thought dinners with the courtiers to be trying, it was only because I had been younger then, and full of all the hope and optimism of a person who had never yet been forced to hold court.
Let alone when there was a war on the horizon.
I shifted uncomfortably in the throne Draven had crafted for me earlier this week, the first of many demonstrations meant to solidify my place at his side. I appreciated the gesture, if not the ornate seat that got colder with every minute I sat on it.
Wynnie assured me that it was impossible to get frostbite with this many layers of fur between myself and the solid ice, but my increasingly numb buttcheeks told another story.
Still, I forced myself to sit a little straighter, ignoring the way my crown dug into my skull as I prepared to welcome the seven thousandth person who approached with something petty or hateful or downright asinine. Though there were a few rare, treasured opportunities to do something useful, for the most part, this felt exactly like the show Soren had intended it to be.
“First of all, may I thank our illustrious king for his swift dealings with the savages at our borders.” Though the villageelder was slightly over the top in his praise, his navy eyes held the burn of sincerity. “My wife and daughter were caught by the slavers, but the soldiers stepped in to save them.”
Draven, to his credit, did not radiate smugness at the male’s words, nor enter my thoughts to remind me of the many heated debates we had engaged in this past week over the law he refused to lift. He only nodded, gesturing for the villager to state his case.
“However, a group had already gotten away with our food stores for the winter,” the male went on. “I ask that we be granted stores from the crown’s holding to replenish them so that our people don’t starve.”
My husband looked at me, his signal that I was able to grant the people a favor. We were enacting Soren’s plan, bit by bit. It should have been easy, except for the daily rejoicing over the deaths of the Unseelie.
Some of them were warranted, like the male here now. Others… others would have gladly danced on the grave of the children who had been slain at the Frost Grave Pass for the sin of daring to escape the monsters Winter was responsible for in the first shards-damned place.
All of it made my teeth clench to the point of cracking.
Still, I nodded with as serene an expression as I could manage. “Granted.”
“Thank you, My Queen.”
The male stepped down, and a female took his place, Lady Feomyr. She wore the height of Frost Court fashion, a gown of pale glacial silk layered over deeper storm-blue velvet, the fabric cut close through the bodice before spilling into sharp, angular skirts that echoed icicles mid-fall. Every accent was deliberate, and cold.
She was a recent arrival, reminiscent of Lady Thessara, from her upturned nose to the haughty tilt of her lips .
“I’m afraid there has been an error made with regard to our accommodations,” she said in a nasally voice.
“Oh?” Draven intoned.
“Yes,” she simpered, missing the warning in his expression entirely. “Surely the queen’s sister did not intend to house my family on the same floor as the peasants.”
“I’m quite certain Lady Noerwyn has been intentional in her rooming decisions, given the need for efficiency with the space at hand.”
I suppressed a snort. I was certain of no such thing. Wynnie had almost definitely placed the lady with the poorest villagers on purpose.
It’s a shame she’s out tending to just such peasants right now so she can’t tell Lady Feomyr herself how intentional her rooming choices were,I thought to Draven.
Amusement trickled from his side of the bond, but there was no trace of it on his stern features.
“Dismissed,” he said shortly, before the lady could protest.
She pursed her lips but bowed anyway, backing away into the crowd.
