Her people were frightened. War had come to their shores at last. And now even the weather seemed to be conspiring against them.
But their faith in her would be restored the moment she recaptured Arlund.
She could only pray that would be soon.
“Very well,” she exhaled, earning a sidelong glance from her Crow. “You may go.”
Lifting her chin, she added with renewed authority, “But be careful and take no unnecessary risks. Write no letters. Merely report back to me the moment you return to court.”
Lord Tiberius doffed his flat cap and swept into another low bow. “I amalwayscareful,” he teased, another of his smiles curvinghis lips. “But how sorry I am that I will miss the wedding. Alas! I am sure it will be a…historic occasion. At least you have already received my gift.”
“Yes,” Seraphina agreed, her own smile turning brittle. “And how generous a gift it was.”
A bribe, more like it.
When the baron had gifted the entirety of his precious shipping fleet to the war efforts just two days ago, she knew what it had meant. He wanted to remind her of her promise toconsiderfinding him a wife just as soon as her own wedding concluded.
She needed the ships. Desperately so. Adding the Beaumont Trading Company’s fleet to the Elmorian navy might very well help them turn the tide of this war.
But now Tiberius’s latest favor hung over her head like an executioner’s blade.
She could not leave it unrepaid forever.
The beginnings of a headache bloomed just above her eyes, making the light in the council chamber a little too bright.
Seraphina winced.
“You may go,” she dismissed the baron before he even had a chance to ask for permission. She was beyond ready to be out of the public eye. To no longer have to smile until her cheeks ached. To no longer have to pretend to be anything other than tired and worried.
As if in need of a change of scenery herself, Alyx abruptly spread her wings and took to the air. Without a single chirp goodbyeor even so much as a backward glance, the usuru followed Lord Tiberius from the council chamber.
Leaving Seraphina alone.
With the Crow.
The moment the baron stepped past the threshold and disappeared from sight, she twitched away from Aldric’s side. Her hand slid from its perch atop his arm. Without the warmth of her fiancé’s body heat keeping her company, the cold of the season rushed in.
Ridiculous. She was being ridiculous again.
“What was all that about?” she bluntly asked while hurrying away from him, making for the door. “With you taking my hand?”
With a grunt, her Crow followed, having to take brisker strides to keep pace with her own. “And here I thought we were one mind,” he rumbled, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.
Her Queensguard and Master Fitzjesmaine fell in with them, making for a formidable entourage that filled the hallway. Ever since the assassination attempt, her godparents had insisted she quadruple her guard. It seemed like a defeat in some way—the actions of a queen who feared a knife around every corner rather than one confident and secure in her rule.
But am I not the former rather than the latter?
“How droll,” she muttered, not daring to spare him a single glance as they stepped out into the corridor together. She feared her dream from last night might come rushing back to her if she did. And sherefusedto relive last night’s rendition of the vision the Lord had plagued her with before witnesses.
“You know I must say these things,” she whispered to him sidelong. “You know we must appear to be a united front.”
Under his breath, Aldric muttered out of nowhere, “You place entirely too much faith in a man who cares more about his appearance than anything else.”
Seraphina thinned her lips. “I place just enough faith in a man keen on keeping himself in my good graces,” she whispered back, aware of the curious eyes of the courtiers they passed.
With an effort, she forced a smile back to her features for their sake. An expression perfectly at odds with her next hissed words. “And yes, you have made your dislike for the Baron of Crestley perfectly well known. What with that…idiotic duel of yours on your first day at court.”
When the Crow had no retort to that, she glanced his way sidelong and studied the hard planes of his face. A muscle in his jaw now ticked, just barely visible beneath his silver-speckled beard.
