When he turned around, a dark brow raised in patient inquiry, she said, “I know you feel that we betrayed you by letting Adrial remain in Celieria without your knowledge. But if you had to make the decision to come here again—even knowing that we hid the truth about Adrial’s presence from you—would you still come?”
He bowed his head, and his chest expanded on a long inhale as he considered the question. “Yes,” he admitted softly. His sober gaze lifted, met and held hers, and he reconfirmed in a firmer voice, “Yes, I would. I would command that Talisa Barrial remain in Celieria City,” he clarified, “but the rest, I would do again.”
Ellysetta nodded.“Beylah vo.”She hesitated. Five months ago, she’d been a peasant, a woodcarver’s graceless gawk of a daughter who never could have dreamed she would be standing here on the battlements of a northern castle, garbed in velvets and sharing a midnight conversation with a king. And she had definitelyneverdreamed that she would be bold enough to offer that king her advice. And yet, that was exactly what she was going to do.
She had vowed not to weave magic on him, but she could not stand by and let him continue to suffer, as he clearly was. Her empathic nature would not allow it.
“You should write your queen. Tonight, before you sleep.” She said it quickly, before her courage failed. “Tell her you love her. Tell her all the things you shared with me, about the many ways you admire and value her. Tell her… tell her that if you had your life to live all over again, you would still choose her above all others to be your queen and the mother of your children. Sometimes women need such reassurances.”
For a moment, she thought she had offended him by offering such personal advice. He stood so still, watching her with such an indecipherable expression on his face. But then he bowed—not just the restrained, regal half nod shared between kings, but a deep, courtly bow, a sign of great respect.
“You are as wise as you are kind, Feyreisa,” he said when he straightened. “The Tairen Soul is a lucky Fey.” He nodded to Gaelen and the rest of her quintet, and continued down the stairs.
“That was well done, what you did back there with Dorian,” Bel said, as Ellysetta and her quintet walked back to the suite.
“I didn’t do much,” Ellysetta denied.
“You got Celieria’s king to acknowledge that he still trusts the Fey military advice,” Gaelen said. “That, even knowing how we misled him about Adrial, he still trusts us to have his kingdom’s best interests at heart. That’s more than anyone else has accomplished.”
“And you put his mind at ease about his queen,” Bel said. “No man, Fey or mortal, does his best when his heart aches and regret weighs heavy on his mind. Even if he cannot mend what is broken between them, for now he has hope that he can.”
“It’s most likely a false hope, you know. Queen Annoura never struck me as a forgiving woman.”
“Perhaps,” Bel acknowledged. “But to a man standing on the eve of battle, even false hope is better than none.”
Several bells after his walk on the ramparts, with the letter to his queen lying on his desk, written, sanded, and sealed, Dorian paced the chamber in restless thought. Pouring his heart out in the letter to his wife had brought back vivid memories of how utterly he’d fallen in love with her, how deeply and completely she had loved him back. Theirshadbeen a Fey-tale love, just as the Feyreisa said. He’d known it. His entire kingdom had known it… So what had happened? And why? For the first time, he began to examine the events of the past, attempting to understand how a love so true could have gone so wrong.
Lady Ellysetta’s remark about how the Mages constantly pushed at her mind, trying to trick her into betraying herself, had started him thinking about the possibility that Dorian and Annoura’s troubles had not been of their own making. He knew for certain that at least one Mage had infiltrated his court, masquerading as the newly entitled Lord Bolor. That Mage had stood in the presence of Dorian’s queen and could easily have Mage-claimed Dorian’s subjects. He’d only been discovered thanks to the diligent efforts of Gaspare Fellows, the Queen’s own Master of Graces. But what if Lord Bolor had not been the first Mage to hide in Dorian’s court? What if there had been others? What if those others had been working their evil on Celieria’s queen?
Annoura had changed these last years—especially the last six months or so. At first, the changes had been so subtle, taking place over a period of time so that they had not raised his suspicions. A hint of disquiet here. A small jealousy there. A fear amplified. His brave, strong, beloved queen had begun to doubt him, to see rivals for his affections, enemies among friends. It was almost as if she were back in Cappellas again, fighting a bitter, brutal shadowy war for survival and power.
Looking back, he could see it clearly, and the change no longer seemed at all natural.
Annoura wasn’t Marked. He took what comfort he could from that, but someone had been playing on her fears. Undermining the love and trust Dorian and Annoura had shared for decades. Rousing all the suspicions bred into her by her Cappellan upbringing. Tricking her into betraying herself, just as the Lady Ellysetta said the Mages tried to do with her. And he, so used to her changeable nature, her manipulations, and the small ways she’d always tested his love, had thought nothing of it.
The more he thought about it, the more he realized that Mage influence was the only explanation that made sense. And since the changes in Annoura had begun before Lord Bolor came to court, that meant Lord Bolor wasn’t the only Mage who’d been influencing her.
So who was it? Who had been closest to her? Who could have had the time and opportunity to play on his queen’s suspicious nature and amplify her fears?
Jiarine, Lady Montevero, was an obvious candidate—considering that she’d been the one to befriend Lord Bolor at court—but she’d been taken to Old Castle for questioning after Bolor’s unmasking. Tortured by some too-zealous prison guard, too, according to his Prime Minister Lord Corrias’s report. And she’d known nothing. She was, apparently, as big a dupe as the rest of them.
Annoura’s other Favorites were possibilities, including, of course, the oh-so-charming Ser Vale, a handsome, minor noble sponsored to the court years ago by Jiarine Montevero. He’d wormed his way into Annoura’s inner circle quickly enough. If Dorian didn’t trust Annoura so much, he might have suspected the relationship between her and Vale had become deeper than mere friendship and flirtation.
He scrubbed his scalp in frustration. Did he really think Lady Montevero and that silky-smooth lordling, Ser Vale, were agents of Eld, or was he just an angry, jealous husband trying to blame someone else for the disintegration of his marriage to a complicated and temperamental queen?
Dorian spun away from the window and stalked across the room to his desk. Maybe he was angry and jealous. But maybe he was also right. He needed someone he could trust to conduct an investigation. If there really were still Mages at work in Celieria City, his queen and his entire kingdom lay at risk.
Dorian sat down, pulled a fresh sheet of blank vellum from his paper box, and uncapped the inkwell.
CHAPTERFOUR
Eyes filled with cold blood-fed
seeking, enjoying their amusement’s dread
Eyes that look forward to bloodsfied
anxious, desperate to taste the dead.
