He was wrong. The engagement was announced right after the lunch break, which he’d spent handily away from the group so Princess Liath couldn’t try to slit his throat or poison him.
King Brin pushed to his unstable feet once the convocation reconvened. As the crowd quieted, he looked out at them with flinty eyes. “We are pleased,” he announced creakily, “to announce that it is toourson and the heir to the throne of Deloth that Princess Liath of Sharezar is now engaged.” He stared with satisfaction across the room at Petur, who affected a posture of sudden disappointment. Prince Lonn stood placidly by his father, not quite making eye contact, but there was a hint of a pleased smile on his lips.
Princess Liath, on the other hand, was looking more dangerous than ever. She glared at Petur fiercely, and on their next break, he wasn’t quite fast enough to evade her again. She approached him with all the inexorable bearing of a battleship, her stride long and head held high, a train of seabird feathers wafting behind her crown.
“Walk with me,” Liath said as she slipped her arm into the crook of Petur’s elbow.
“I have my queen’s departure to prepare for,” Petur tried, but Liath wasn’t taking any excuses. She steered him down a hall and into an open courtyard. The walls were half crumbled and the ground one enormous puddle thanks to the unending rains they’d been plagued with. The rain acted as a muffler, softening all sound.
Petur was reluctantly impressed. Princess Liath would have made him a formidable spouse.
“I didn’t need your help securing that alliance,” Liath said quietly but vehemently as they stood together in the rain.
“I wasn’t trying to helpyou,” Petur told her. “You’re going to land on your feet no matter where you end up.”
“Something I would like to have more of a direct say in.”
“You made your say direct,” Petur replied, unwilling to be cowed. “You did it by making your suit public. We all knew about it. Don’t play at being disappointed now, because you got what you wanted.”
“Don’t pretend you helped out of the goodness of your heart,” she snapped back.
“Of course, I didn’t,” Petur replied. “I don’t care about your happiness. I don’t care about Lonn’s happiness. Idocare about the stability of your countries, though. I care about there being a clear line of succession. I care about you being strong enough to defend yourselves and come to the aid of your neighbors without feeling so strong that you might try to swallow them whole. I care about strengthening what the Southlands have.”
“Then why not marry me yourself?”
Petur smirked at her. “Because I know you,” he replied. “And I know myself. Be honest. Do you really want to fight with your spouse every day for the rest of your life? Or do you want someone biddable, who will help you accomplish your goals as long as you help him retain his crown?”
Princess Liath rolled her eyes and let out a huffy sigh. “You’re so much prettier, though,” she said, and Petur laughed.
“I’m sorry to deny you my beauty,” he crooned at her. “Perhaps if I had a miniature painted for you?”
“Oh, shut up.” She laughed as well, though, then continued in a more serious voice. “Consider this all the thanks you’re going to get. My father left the convocation two days ago.”
“Yes,” Petur agreed. “We all know that. He didn’t want to see you throwing yourself at every man who crossed your path, I suppose—”
“Quiet, you jackass. I’m trying to tell you something. He left two days ago, and there was an attack against him on the road home.”
Petur went still. “Why didn’t the rest of us hear about this?”
“Because he weathered it well enough that there was no reason to share. A bridge was out,” she explained. “My father decided to attempt a shallow crossing. Our people aren’t afraid of a little wet. They came under fire while they were still in the middle of the river.”
Petur’s mouth went dry.
“Obviously, the attack was unsuccessful,” she continued. “It was the work of less than an hour to build rafts for the crossing, and my father ordered them cut free from the line that was hauling them across. Everyone ended up a few miles off course as they floated downstream, but no one was injured. We didn’t even lose any of our supplies, but”–-she shook her head slightly—“I thought you should know.”
“Thank you.” He inclined his head in genuine appreciation. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“Go, go.” She waved him away. “And please, never help me again.”
“Your wish is my command.” Petur left at a brisk pace, fighting to keep from scowling. There really wasn’t any reason to feel as annoyed as he did about being left in the dark about the attempt; it was standard procedure. Information such as this wasn’t the sort of thing you wanted getting around. Tania was already a bit of a focal point because of the fact that their family was a target of assassination attempts right now, and no one wanted to take that unfortunate crown away from her.
No, Petur wasn’t surprised that this knowledge had been hidden from him, but he did dislike the fact that now it meanthewas the one who’d have to do the right thing and lose face byletting everybody else know that they could be attacked on their return trips home.
He gathered Lise to him as soon as he returned to the wing their people had been stationed in. “I need you to make some visits,” he said under his breath, “covertly, to the heads of security for all visiting royals present except Liath.”
Lise immediately nodded, bless her. “About?” Petur relayed to her what Liath had told him. She frowned thoughtfully at the end of it.
“There won’t always be a convenient bridge to knock out,” she murmured. “How do you think they’ll do it for us?”
