I slipped into my bedroom, locked the door, and practiced with a stick I pretended was a sword. I’d held my own during raids from the fortress, but I wasn’t the sharpened warrior like Tempest.
But with a blade . . .
I grabbed one from the closet and threw it, over and over, atthe back of the door, hitting the ding I’d selected each time. Few could best me in a knife-throwing contest, something we’d done at the fortress bar to make time fly faster. Nothing tasted sweeter than the whistle of the air after I threw my blade, followed by the thwack when I hit my target squarely.
I also practiced with my magic, though I wasn’t making much progress. The only thing I seemed able to do other than light up my finger and shoot fiery bolts at the water outside my porthole window was will the blade scars in the back of the door from showing. Were they gone? I couldn’t tell. At least I could no longer see or feel them. I hoped no one else could, either.
I did everything I could to avoid thinking about Merrick and our kiss.
“Tell me why he did it,” I finally said as Lord Briscalar was collecting my half-eaten dinner tray that evening. How could I be hungry when all I could think about was Merrick’s mouth on mine, the weight of his body pressing me into the blankets?
“Why who did what, my lady?” Lord Briscalar puttered with the tray, placing the silver dome over the plate and collecting my napkin from the small table, nudging the chair back beneath it.
“You know.”
He said nothing, turning toward the door with the tray in his hands.
“Why don’t you call me queen, like Merrick?” I assumed I could refer to my husband by his first name. The lord’s lack of a flinch or a sharp look in my direction confirmed my assumption.
“It’s merely a formality, and I do apologize.” He dipped his head in a quick bow. “Per court protocol, I’m supposed to call you my lady until you’re crowned.”
Crowned? Lovely. “Please tell me it’s a simple ceremony.”
“Never,” he gasped. “An occasion such as that requires pomp and celebration.”
I winced out a smile. “Merrick calls me queen.” I liked that better than fawn. While I felt timid too often on the inside, I projected a solid front. I was more the wildfire Lore had named me.
“That’s his right, of course,” the lord said. “As our king, he can do whatever he pleases.”
“Such as toss sailors over the side of the ship? I didn’t miss that the man was bound.”
“He tried to kill the king. He could’ve harmed you as well.” Lord Briscalar’s eyes widened with fright. “When he discovered who’d tampered with the boom, the king had no choice but to take quick, decisive action.”
Since behavior like that reminded me too much of my father, I huffed. “No trial first?”
“Would you give your attempted murderer a trial if you caught him in action?” he asked with lifted eyebrows.
“Probably not. I can be as ruthless as anyone else.” Especially those in my family. They called my brother the Beast for a good reason. If I’d discovered a sailor had tried to kill me, would I have acted in the same way?
Yes.
“You’ll discover our king is equally ruthless,” the lord said. “This isn’t the first time he’s had to act swiftly, and it will not be the last.”
“How does he feel about it?” I asked, my head tilting as I studied his face.
“You’ll have to ask him. It’s not my place to say, though I assume if he felt a twinge, it swiftly departed.”
Also like my brother. Merrick hadn’t come across as brutal, but I didn’t know him well. I doubted he’d show that side of his personality to a new bride.
“Is there anything else I can get you, my lady?” Lord Briscalar strode toward the door.
“No, thank you.”
“Will you be taking a walk on the deck this evening for a bit of fresh air?” His disapproving gaze slid down my leathers. “I could help you don something . . . more appropriate.”
I looked down at my scuffed, well-loved outfit. “I used to battle beasts in this.”
“And it shows,” he said in a blustery voice. “But may I say that you looked quite delightful earlier. I could tell the king was pleased by your appearance in the gown he created.”
