Petur was never happier to be the spare and not the heir than at political events like convocations. Gods, the conversation wasstultifying, participants repeating the same old tired talking points day after day. No one ever really gave ground, never really brought up anything new, they all just chipped away at ancient arguments and shaky agreements for weeks on end until even the calmest of monarchs, in this case Queen Melisse, looked ready to tear their hair out.
Nope, this fate wasn’t for him, and he was glad of it. Petur had plenty to do to keep their party safe.
Deloth, unlike Mersaighe, didn’t have any stark prejudice against shifters. But the king, for all he seemed to be slipping into his dotage at an alarming pace, still wasn’t comfortable with more than a single squad of Petur’s best warriors accompanying them south. Petur thought they should have pushed for twice as many, but Tania didn’t want to “ruffle any royal feathers,” as she put it.
“I have enough to worry about as it is without having to wonder whether you or one of your people is going to cause a diplomatic incident,” she’d snapped.
“Forgive me for trying to prize your life as highly as you do,” Petur had snapped right back. That exchange had set the tone between them this entire trip. Thank the Triad it was almost over with. He was more than ready to be out of this dank, ancient stone castle, a castle that was crumbling around the edges thanks to Deloth’s declining income.
King Brin, who had once been one of the sharpest monarchs on the continent, was too old to rule effectively. He was too stubborn to turn over any of his power to his son, though, or even to give him a real role in his court. The old guard was firmly in control in Deloth, and that left Prince Lonn with little more than a faded future. One of the primary reasons the convocation was held was to prevent war between the southland nations. But if Prince Lonn wasn’t given real responsibility soon, it seemed likely that his country would soon be faced with inevitable ruin, either economic or aggressive.
“He needs leverage,” Deyvid said from where he was pressed against Petur’s side in the bed they shared. It was the first night in six they’d managed to carve out enough time to sleep together, so naturally they weren’t sleeping at all. Mutual hand jobs had quickly become Petur fucking Deyvid’s thighs until both of them came a second time. Then, instead of letting lassitude carry them off, they decided to talk through some of the stickiest security points of this particular convocation, which all revolved around the king. “Even though Lonn is the only heir, he’s got very little influence with his father.”
“What Lonn needs is to marry someone ambitious,” Petur mused, stroking his fingers idly over Deyvid’s shoulder. “Someone who sees the value of Deloth as an independentcountry and who’s willing to put their personal might into building it up again.”
“Yes, but Brin doesn’t want him to marry,” Deyvid pointed out, then chuckled. “He’s almost as picky for his son as you are for yourself.”
“I’m not picky,” Petur said indignantly. “I’m taken; there’s a difference. I’myours.”
“I know, darling,” Deyvid sat up on one elbow and leaned over Petur’s chest, stroking a soothing hand down his breastbone. “Of course, you’re mine. And I’m yours. I always will be, but—”
“But nothing,” Petur broke in. “I don’t want to talk about it.” He knew he was being foolish, that Deyvid was only trying to help him face a reality that seemed to be looming closer and closer every day. Tania had made no secret of the fact that she was entertaining offers for her brother’s hand while they were here. Numerous people had approached her, including another offer from Princess Liath, but with her, at least, Petur hoped he had made the lady’s motivations clear enough that Tania felt comfortable saying no.
The final day of the convocation was the first day where Petur took an active role in the dialogue. As the conversation slowly worked around to alliances once more, he stepped forward purposefully, moving into a spotlight generally saved for leaders. Tania was fortunately saved from consternation at his forwardness due to her absence. Many of the monarchs who had come for the convocation missed the last day in preparation for the journey ahead of them, sending their representatives instead. Petur was one of them, Liath was another, but both the king and the prince of Deloth were present.
Good.
“The bonds we create between us,” Petur began, speaking loudly enough that no one seemed inclined to interrupt him, “are more important than ever in these uncertain times. This isnot a moment for faintness of heart or overlong consideration. This is a time for opportunity to be seized, lest it cease to present itself in the future.”
The old king coughed. “Speak plainly,” he mumbled. “Is this an offer for a formal alliance? What, you want my son for yourself?”
Petur bit back a scoff. Did he want to be married to a middle-aged, soft-bodied, moon-faced man who had absolutely no desire for other men? No, he did not. Oh, he liked Prince Lonn well enough. The man was insightful and incisive when he wanted to be, but he didn’t have the fire needed to work beyond his father’s will.
Well, he was going to borrow some of Petur’s fire today.
“Not at all. No offense to your heir, of course.” Petur winked at Lonn, whose shoulders relaxed minutely. “I did want to do you the favor, however, of informing you of the bidding war for one of your son’s suitors.”
There was a murmur in the crowd. A bidding war? No one had heard of such a thing. That, Petur knew, was because there was, in fact,nobidding war. The only person making a serious play for Lonn’s hand was Liath, but no one else had to know that.
“You’ve been very sly,” he added to her with a little smile, “but nothing is hidden from my people for long. And given that the dowry on the line has risen to the point that it has, it would be foolish of her other suitors not to take it. Indeed, I’m reliably informed that an offer will be made by the end of the day.”
Now Princess Liath was staring at Petur with daggers in her eyes. For all that she was desperate for a political marriage, she had her pride, too, and clearly didn’t appreciate being used as a pawn. She also didn’t know how to manipulate useless monarchs the way that Petur did. Otherwise, she’d have gotten the marriage she wanted a long time ago, Petur’s wishes be damned.
“Are you threatening to poach our prospects?” King Brin wheezed, his voice livelier than it had been for hours … days … gods, it felt like months.
“I’m not threatening anything,” Petur assured him. “I’m a representative of Riyale, and Riyale has no need to seek an alliance of this sort at this time.”
“That’s not what your queen has said.” That was Jonathan, the prince consort of Bekkon. He wasn’t the sort to speak up at these functions, mainly because everyone knew he was of common birth and treated him accordingly. But his eyes were narrow and shrewd, mouth terse as though he took Petur’s words almost personally.
“My sister believes in keeping all her options open, of course,” Petur said in as conciliatory a tone as he could manage. “I’m simply saying that Riyale has other concerns at the moment.”
“Like everyone trying to kill you,” Princess Liath said pointedly.
“Exactly that,” Petur said, which got a few laughs from the others. “The satisfaction of our tender hearts will have to wait until we’ve saved our bodies from mortification. That said, one way or another, I expect a decree of engagement to be announced by this very evening.” He nodded his head Princess Liath’s direction. “My compliments!”
Oh, if she could shoot flames from her eyes, he would be so dead right now. “How kind,” was all she said in return, though. She couldn’t very well admit that there were no other offers on hand.
Petur was confident this would work, though, not because Prince Lonn had any sway over his father, but because the king’s advisors were also listening in on this moment—old men with old money, suddenly confronted with the fact that the strings they’d been pulling at for years now were soon going to be severed. Petur was good at projecting an aura of danger. Itmotivated people, made them make decisions. Petur would bet that an engagement would be announced at dinner that night.
