“You don’t have to lie for him. I know he’s working with the stardust smugglers. You don’t have to make excuses for him.”
“They’re letters I wrote while we were courting. I was hopeful we’d conceive and mend the rifts in the kingdom through our union. But as more and more time passed, and it didn’t happen, I became discouraged, and I burned the letters...”
Heinrich stood up and came over to grab her shoulders, bringing her close. Not in a comforting way, but possessively. Liane’s skin prickled with anger as he gave her a smarmy smile.
“I managed to salvage it from the flames and kept the rest as a memento of our hopeful youth. When Cyra blesses us with a child, perhaps your doubts will be erased, Liane.”
Aristea kept her head down, not meeting anyone’s eyes in the room. Liane looked to her parents and brother, but no one would look at her. This was madness. How could they not see Heinrich manipulating Aristea in front of their very eyes?
“This isn’t time for squabbling. We’re stronger as a family, together,” Mother said.
“Your mother’s right. We can hope for the best, but we must prepare for the worst. Since the dukes are in the capital, I’ll call a parliament meeting first thing tomorrow,” Father said.
“We’ll need allies outside the empire. I shall write to the southern country,” Aristea said, sniffling slightly.
They chattered together, making plans for war against the elves, ignoring her and everything she’d said.
Mathias came over and pulled her into a bear hug, and against the top of her head, he said, “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I’ve gotten out of worse scraps before.”
She pulled away and felt as if her head were full of cotton. They were doing it again, covering up what they didn’t want to see. Mathias would walk into certain death, and they’d hold their fake smiles as Heinrich stabbed them in the back. She had to do something. But the small scrap of evidence she’d had was dismissed, and she was no closer to finding his mistress and bastard than she had been days before.
“And I think we should offer a marital alliance to Sundland as well,” Mother said.
Liane’s head snapped up.“You said who I married was my choice!”
“Aren’t the two of you rather close?” Heinrich sneered.
“We’ve just met recently. I can’t decide to marry someone so soon…”
“If we’re going to war with the elves, then Sundland has the military power we need. Their support could mean the difference between winning and losing a war.”
They’d turned her lie against her, but if she fought too hard against it, Mother would either force her to marry Erich despite her protests or find someone worse. By trying to accuse Heinrich outright, she’d tipped her hand too soon. If she had any hope of salvaging her investigation, she needed Mother to think her compliant.
“You’re right; let’s propose a marriage alliance between Sundland and us.”
16
Fear gnawed at Erich’s entrails as he watched Liane walk away and the dragon pushed against his bindings. He didn’t think it would latch onto her quite so quickly, but what else could explain this madness that had overcome him? It wasn’t like him to run headlong into danger. It wasn’t his problem if she was besieged, or if an assassin waited for her in the shadows. Yet instinct had overridden common sense, and he’d rushed to her. This was how it started, wanting to protect. Then it transformed into possessive need, and in dragon form, hunger and desire were too similar. Never again.
He needed to focus. Get the sword, get out. After tomorrow, he’d forget they’d ever met.Eventually, the desire would fade…
“You’ll need to come with us, your majesty,” a palace guard said.
Hisempty hand twitched. They were asking nicely. No cause for concern. But the dragon rolled, testing his bindings, attempting escape to follow Liane, and he tightened his hold, doubling the mental chains binding it. Flanked on both sides, he followed the guards down the stairs and into the entryway, where panicked groups of courtiers clustered, chattering, eyes rolling like nervous cattle. Their fear stank up the air and raised panic in him, clawing at the back of his throat. He hated this feeling; he was a cornered animal ready to strike.
“What is the meaning of this? Let us go!” shouted a red-faced lord, his clothing torn, likely in the stampede.
“Everyone must stay together for their own safety,” a guard said.
“I heard an elf killed Cyra. Have elves gotten into the palace?” a woman shrieked.
“Please remain calm. There are no elves in the palace.”
“Who would dare do such a thing?” another man shouted.
“We are investigating. There is nothing to worry about,” they repeated their refrain.
A line of guards blocking the exit pushed the group forward, forcing them down a long hallway that spilled out onto the grand hall, and as much as he hated crowds, he stayed in the center. There it was safer to blend in. Doors closed behind them with an echoing clang. Erich’s skin twitched as voices buzzed in his ears like swarming flies.
