“Good, so that’s half of it. And you are?” I smile, but perhaps not so brightly this time.
“My name is Lucidia, but you may call me Matron.”
“That’s a pretty name. I mean, the Lucidia part, not the Matron part.”
She blinks. “Clean up, and dress to please your king. I will return shortly.” She turns, her stiff spine straight, her steps sure. She pauses before passing out into the main consort area. “Don’t disappoint him, nightling. Kings are fickle creatures. Disappoint him, and you’ll wish you hadn’t.” With that dire warning, she disappears, and I’m left alone to ponder what dismal fate awaits me should I displease Solano.
14
Solano
Brock, Charen, and Tristano sit around the crystal table as I stride in.
Tristano snorts a laugh. “You look like you took a detour through the Spires.”
Charen punches him in the arm. The move would break a changeling’s bone, but Tristano shrugs it off.
“The road was long.” I sit down in my father’s chair. My chair now, I suppose.
“Ten consorts wear you out?” Tristano grins.
“One.” Brock sits heavily to my right. “He took only one.”
“What?” Charen runs a hand through his short golden hair. “Won’t that cause a problem?”
“If it does, I’ll just add it to the pile.” I wave a servant over, and he pours water for Brock and me, wine for Charen and Tristano.
“Where are Bladin and Everett?”
“Hunting.” Tristano drains his goblet and holds it out for more. “Tell me more about the consort.”
His tone sets my teeth on edge. It shouldn’t. Tristano has long been favored by the females of my court. His swagger and charm have felled more maidens than I care to count. But the thought of him touching my nightling makes my blood sizzle.
“There was another attack,” Brock intones.
“Where?” Tristano sobers.
“The farmlands near the border. We came upon it on the road, but we were too late to find the culprits.”
“They struck that quickly?” Charen shakes his head. “They even evadedyou?”
“Yes, Charen.” I snap with far more ire than usual. “Even I couldn’t find who murdered our people and stole some of their children.”
He sits back, the wine forgotten.
I sigh. “Sorry, I’m just—”
“No, I had it coming.” He meets my gaze. “Apologies, my lord.”
“Don’t start that.” I wave his ‘my lord’ away. I grew up with these warriors, and if it weren’t for the palace healers, I’d have the scars to show for it. Our bond is formed in blood and love of the day realm, and no disagreement can ever break it.
Standing, I stretch and turn to leave.
“That’s it?” Charen asks.
“That’s all I have. I saw the damage for myself. Whoever is behind it—”
“Sigrid,” Tristano snarls.
