“Curious.” Bishop’s eyes now gleamed with too keen interest. “Is the rumor true that you helped kill the shifters whose bones hang from the king’s gates, Princess Trixie?”
I hadn’t known they were still there.
I did not reply and merely lifted one red brow.
I waited.
Bishop’s short obsidian black hair was tied back in a low ponytail with gorilla teeth sporadically placed throughout, a symbol of his respect for his shifter kind. His solid honey brown eyes narrowed when I didn’t answer him, and his massive shifter frame stiffened at the insult. His sand-colored fingers twitched as he tried to wait for me to falter.
He would be standing there forever to see me do as such.
“You trained her well, King Traevon,” Bishop eventually stated. With his black brows raised high in a pure mocking fashion, he gallantly bowed low to the ground. “Princess Trixie, it is an honor to meet you.”
“It is an honor to meet you, too, Bishop,” I responded evenly.
He lifted to his gigantic height. “So are the rumors true, Your Highness?”
“You would have to ask my king. He would know the truth.”
Bishop cocked his head and stared me dead in the eye. “I have. King Traevon once told me to ask you.”
“It is positively a conundrum then.” I smiled, showing my fangs. “But I am sure whoever killed them made them burnreallywell. It’s a shame they had to trespass where they weren’t allowed.”
Only an elven king or the heir had the royal firepower, and since he was the shifter king’s personal assistant, he would know the real reason why they were killed. He may even have been the one to plan the way my grandmother died.
I wanted him to know a royal was involved in their deaths.
Bishop’s solid honey brown eyes roamed my face, not showing an ounce of what he was deliberating inside his mind, and then he struck my father with a hard look. “She is definitely your daughter.”
King Traevon stated coolly, “Yes, she is.”
Another round of lust-fogged need battered my body.
Would this blasted Fae urge ever go away?
I wiped at my forehead again. It really needed to stop.
The main entrance door banged open.
“I am here. So sorry to keep you waiting, but the ocean currents were strong today, and High Pointe is so much farther for me to travel.” Queen Alora’s voice scratched like glass over coral, ringing in my ears loud enough to upset. “Oh my Fae. Who is this new creature in our sanctuary?”
Father turned me to fully face the queen, where she stood in a caster-spelled dress made of tiny pink and yellow shells—barely covering areas that desperately needed to be covered for decorum’s sake. With a warning edging his tone, King Traevon explained, “Queen Alora, this is my heir, Princess Trixie Towers. She will be joining us today for our meeting. Trixie, this is Queen Alora Kaiz, Queen of Merfolk.”
King Athon entered the room silently. He rested back against a wall covered in paintings, somehow managing not to bump them off, crossing his arms to silently watch everyone. His bold features were entirely blank, even when Bishop walked over to whisper in his ear.
It appeared he had his royal game face on.
I turned my body a little more so I wouldn’t have to see him.
Queen Alora sauntered in all her magnificence toward us. Her high ponytail of lush waves, bright hues of pink, purple, blue, yellow, and green, swished back and forth with her overly fancy stride. Seven feet tall of luscious curves and glimmering bronze skin, and the queen knew how to work a room. Her solid sky blue eyes with white sparkles throughout were homed on me, the gills she had now closed on land hid behind her pointed ears.
Father nudged my back unobtrusively.
Oh, yes. I must do this again.
I swept myself down into the most perfect curtsey, wishing like bloody Fairy that I could grab a new pair of underwear somewhere. I was definitely wet, annoyingly so.
I stated clearly, “Queen Alora, you are as beautiful as the songs that are written about you.”
