“Thinking on her again, are you?” Tristano grins.
“What?” I wave a hand. “No. I’m trying to figure out where to send you and your contingent of troops. Somewhere you’re sure to be slain.”
He laughs. “Her scent is all over you. We could hear you two in there—”
“Stop smelling me and listening to me. Keep your perversions to yourself.”
“Myperversions?” He clutches his chest as if wounded. “I’m not the one sucking a consort’s sweetmeats while the entire court listens.”
I grin, because yes, I did just that, and I’d happily do it again. “Jealous?”
“Definitely.” He laughs and takes another drink. “Do it in front of all of us next time, would you? We could use some real entertainment during those boring dinners. Or, I could do it?” He raises his brows in question.
My feral gnashes its teeth, and the mirth leaves my face.
Tristano seems to notice, because he hurries on, “With one of the noble females, I mean. There’s one from Yvelde’s house that’s always making eyes at me. I bet she’d be happy to—”
“Shut your cunt juicer.” Bladin kicks his boots up on the worn wooden table. “The grownups are talking.”
“I truly don’t know why the king allows you fools to grace his presence.” Brock grunts and sits, his gloomy disposition utterly out of place in the day realm but welcome all the same. “After the resting hours, I suggest we each take a brigade to the four main border crossings—north, south, east, and west. I’ll take the south bord—”
“You will not.” Everett fingers his bow string, testing it and fiddling with it, then testing it again. “I’m the one who should handle the night border.”
“Here we go.” I sigh and rub my temples.
“Just because you’re from the night realm doesn’t mean—”
“It does.” His silver eyes and dark hair mark him as a night fae. They’re rare in the day realm, but so is Everett. His story is one that defies belief but is true all the same.
“I can meld into the inky night if need be, and King Sigrid can’t do a thing about it. I have as much right to the Nightlands as any other member of the night realm.” He levels Brock with a silver stare. “And I’m the better warrior.”
Tristano whistles, Charen turns to the fire, and Bladin looks at Brock then Everett, back and forth.
“Would you like to test that theory?” Brock glances at his sword on the weapons rack by the door.
“Not a theory. It’s a fact.” Everett plucks his bow, nonchalance in every movement.
Brock sits forward, thunderclouds gathering along his brow. “I will stomp your pale arse so far into the dirt of Arin that—”
“Enough.” I slam my palm on the table. “I’ll decide.” I can’t bloody well choose Everett or Brock to take the night realm border thanks to their little spat. “Tristano, south. Everett, north. Bladin, east. Charen, west. Brock will remain here to assist me.”
“What?” Brock and Everett ask at once.
“You heard me.” I stand. “Get some rest. You have long rides ahead of you after resting hours.” Striding from the room, I turn right and head toward my chambers. “Brock, we’ll speak at first meal.”
A flutter down the hall catches my eye, and I have to bite back an irritated sigh. Gwenarie steps from a side corridor, her eyes fixed on me. She’s wearing a different dress from earlier, this one lower cut. It strikes me that it’s quite similar to the one Emma wore at dinner.
“My lord.” She bows low, trying to give me a direct view of her cleavage. Her little games are old and tired, and I thought we’d reached an agreement that she would stop pressing the betrothal now that I have to focus on the troubles in the realm.
“Gwen.” I force a smile. She was bearable when we were still young fae, but now that she’s matured, she’s much like her mother. Always calculating, always looking for a way to get what she wants.
“I wanted to apologize for leaving your banquet this evening.” She almost floats to me, her graceful walk practiced over centuries. Her hair is loose, though I don’t believe for a second it wasn’t planned down to the very last wave. Not Gwen. She leaves nothing to chance.
“No need to apologize.” I want to sidestep her, but she moves closer and tilts her head back, giving me a doe-eyed look.
“Thank you, my lord. You have always been so kind to me.”
“Gwen, is there something you need?” I should scold her for being in this part of the palace during resting hours, but I don’t. She’s practically a royal, her bloodline nearly as deep as mine.
