Morkai strolled past the rows of benches until he reached the king. “Your Majesty,” he said with a deep bow.
Dimetreus nodded in reply. “Prince Teryn, how good of you to join me for prayer.”
“I appreciate you allowing this intrusion.”
“It’s no intrusion,” the king said, “for I am merely posturing. I’ve never been a man of prayer. A man of faith, yes, but not as faithful as I should be.”
“Is that so, my king?” Morkai strolled up the dais and lit seven sticks of incense on the small brazier burning at the center of the table. Then he placed one stick before each of the deities before returning to the king’s side. Teryn watched his every move with keen awareness, a tense wave of energy tightening his ethera. He expected Morkai to do something sinister, but he simply kneeled beside Dimetreus, positioned slightly behind as was deferential to the king.
Dimetreus spoke again. “Lords Kevan and Ulrich insist I make a show of being a penitent king to improve my image. Though I can’t see how it would help when there’s hardly a soul to witness me in here.”
“I wouldn’t say you’re without witnesses, Majesty.” Morkai gave a subtle nod toward the dais. Teryn’s gaze followed to where the king’s personal guard stood, two men on each side, nearly hidden amongst the shadows of the dark nave.
The king snorted a laugh. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he said, “I suppose you know more than anyone what position I’m in, as you had a strong hand in negotiating for my and Aveline’s pardon.”
“Yes, though I would have prevented Verdian’s stranglehold on your castle if I’d held more sway. Kevan and Ulrich are too ambitious for their own good.” Teryn hated hearing Morkai utter words that held true for Teryn. Perhaps the sorcerer was adept at playing this role after all.
“I appreciate you saying that, Prince, but…but I am in a situation of my own making. Though I wasn’t of the right mind when I attempted to declare war on Selay and Menah, I can’t change that it happened. I am willing to do whatever it takes to demonstrate my peaceful intent to my allies.” His tone was dry, rehearsed.
“Majesty, I hope you won’t fault me for being blunt, but you need not speak with caution around me. I’m on your side.”
Dimetreus gave him a warm smile. “Of course you are. You were quick to forgive me, for you saw how I was being controlled firsthand when the sorcerer brought you here. Still, I bear the burden of having neglected to see Morkai’s vile intent long before I named him duke. Even after, I’d had a choice. I could have listened to Aveline…”
His voice trailed off, eyes vacant. Haunted. Then he shook his head and rose to his feet. One of his guards rushed forward to offer him a hand, but he waved him off. The guard hesitated, then returned to his post at the end of the dais.
Morkai stood as well and faced the king with a bow.
“I’m glad my sister has you, Prince Teryn,” Dimetreus said. “I can tell your affection for her goes beyond a betrothal contract.”
Teryn was torn between feeling elated and enraged at the king’s words. Though he said them to Morkai, the sentiment was true. Teryn’s affection for Cora went beyond what he’d confessed to Dimetreus during the audience he’d had with him the night Teryn arrived. He was glad the king understood that.
But Morkai didn’t deserve to hear those words, to receive them with that smug grin of his, one that made Teryn’s face look nearly unrecognizable.
“You honor me, Majesty,” Morkai said. “I am mosteagerto wed the princess.”
Teryn tensed at how Morkai had emphasizedeager.
“Next year, Khero will have regained enough stability to allow us to host a grand wedding,” Dimetreus said.
“I await that day with the most ardent anticipation. However, I’m surprised your council has allowed for such a lengthy engagement.”
Dimetreus gave a lighthearted chuckle. “I thought you were the one who’d suggested a yearlong betrothal, Prince. The marriage alliance had been your idea.”
Morkai’s face flashed with the slightest hint of alarm before he donned an easy smile. “Yes, I did propose the alliance, but I didn’t set the timeline.”
False, Teryn wanted to shout. He had set the timeline. He’d proposed a yearlong betrothal out of respect for Cora, out of consideration for the time he knew she’d need to adjust. The time they’d both need to fully enjoy their courtship.
“Ah,” the king said, wagging a finger. “Your heart has made you impatient. I remember that feeling well.”
“Yes, you are very right about that,” Morkai said, but his voice lacked the warmth necessary to suggest the words were true. He furrowed his brow as if deep in thought. “I am concerned with one thing. Aren’t you essentially without an heir until Aveline and I marry? Doesn’t the peace pact state that your council will only accept your sister as heir after she and I are wed?”
“That’s technically true,” Dimetreus said. “It seems you are the key, Prince Teryn, for your neutrality secures Verdian’s trust as well as that of my council.” The king’s tone turned grudging as he spoke the last part.
Morkai narrowed his eyes. “You don’t seem too happy about that.”
Dimetreus forced a smile that crinkled the skin around his eyes, but there was no mirth in it. As he glanced over at his guards, it waned completely. He lowered his voice, eyes still on his guards. “It isn’t a matter of being happy or unhappy. Aveline deserves to be heir in her own right. Yet the marriage alliance is a necessity. I’m only grateful it’s a happy one.”
Morkai’s lips lifted at the corners in another smirk that had no right twisting Teryn’s face. The expression disappeared as the king returned his gaze to Morkai.
