“You what?” Anger defused from his expression, and puzzlement replaced it. “Is that where you’ve been? In some monastery?”
Sobbing loudly, Greta fled the room, slamming the parlor door on the way out. Both stared after her before sharing a look. Ivar no longer looked angry; he just looked weary as he sunk into the seat across from Erich and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“She’s refused eighteen proposals, and most recently one from a very wealthy Neolyrian merchant. I thought bringing her here would help her forget this childish nonsense, but she’s persisted in this delusion that you’ll make her Queen of Sundland.” Ivar rubbed his palm over his face.
“She’s welcome to become Father’s heir. I’ve no intention of filling that role.”
“I suppose I was naïve thinking you came here because you’re ready to return home.”
“Afraid not, Ivar. I came to call in that favor.”
“This is your favor? Then what was freeing you from prison?” His eyes shot up, narrowing once more at Erich.
“Doing your duty to your prince?”
“I’m afraid to ask what you want. First, you need me to release you from prison, and then you break my daughter’s heart…”
“I guess Soccicio meant nothing to you…” Erich half rose from his seat.
“Now, let’s not be hasty. I didn’t say I wouldn’t help. What is it you want exactly?”
“Nothing too hard. I need you to get my friend and me into the palace... unofficially.”
Tugging on the ends of his drooping mustache, Ivar considered his proposal as echoes of Greta’s sobs rippled through the townhouse. If he refused, Erich would have to find another way in, but that meant presenting himself at court as Prince Erich, and he hadn’t claimed that title in six years and wasn’t about to give up anonymity, not even for a cure.
“Who is this friend?” Ivar shook his head. “Actually, don’t tell me. The less I know, the better.I owe you a great deal, your majesty, but I cannot put my neck on the line for any illicit dealings. You must know it would be in my best interest to send you back to Sundland.”
“Hasn’t he gotten a new son from that young woman yet?” Erich said to change the subject.
“Queen Freya. And no, he hasn’t. The king hasn’t been... well...”Ivar’s bushy blond eyebrows drew together.
The briefest twinge of sadness passed over Erich. But it was short-lived. When Father died, his cruel legacy went with him, as did Erich’s responsibilities to the throne. In his absence, his uncles would squabble over the throne, and Erich would be free at last.
“Pity.” Erich examined his nail beds.
“I know the king isn’t the most nurturing.”
Erich scoffed.
“But Sundland needs you. Duke Mattison and Duke Ericson are gathering allies. You must return, before they plunge the kingdom into a civil war.”
“Let them fight for supremacy. Isn’t that the law of Sundland, only the strongest survive?” The words left a bitter taste in his mouth, as he envisioned Father looming above him as the cane fell over and over onto his backside.
“Then convince me otherwise. What are you after in the palace?”
Grasping the stem of his empty goblet, he twisted it between thumb and forefinger. Few knew of his dragon curse, and even if Ivar were one of them, he couldn’t tell him he’d made a deal with an elf. Ivar wouldn’t turn him over to Father, at least not straight away. He owed him that much, but Ivar wouldn’t tolerate an elf.
“You owe me, Ivar.”
“I repaid your favor when I released you from jail. And I will not be informing your father of that fact. That’s two favors, but out of my love for you, I’m willing to do one more.”
Erich tapped his foot on the ground.
“What do you want, to send me home?”
Ivar shook his head. “That is your decision to make. I want to see my daughter happy. Be her escort to the ball, and I will not ask questions, and I will allow you and your companion to join us at the masquerade tonight.”
“Hoping I’ll change my mind and make your daughter my queen, Ivar?”
