The herald’s booming voice echoed through the room. “His Majesty, King Merrick of Evergorne, and Her Majesty, Queen Reyla.”
Those seated rose, some bowing their heads in deference. Others greeted us with stilted warmth, their voices full of well-practiced praise. Others remained silent, rigid even, their gazes flickering between Erisandra and us, their lack of acknowledgment speaking louder than words.
I straightened my spine as I walked down the carpeted aisle,my steps in time with Merrick’s. My gaze remained on those gathered ahead, and I noted the cool scrutiny of some, the outright hostility of others. Erisandra fluttered in the center of the group, still holding her court with those who must be her allies, her piercing gaze tracking me like prey.
Merrick led me past her without a glance in their direction. I caught Lord Hadrin's smug smile and was tempted to stop and directly address him, but Merrick gave a subtle shake of his head. I keep moving.
The dais loomed in front of us, crowned with our twin thrones carved from gleaming fessalile wood and gilded with gold. As we reached the steps, Merrick paused, waiting for me to ascend first. His unspoken show of respect didn’t escape me. I settled on my throne, him brushing my thigh as he seated himself beside me.
The cluster below began to shift, Erisandra and the others dispersing to the benches, like oil spreading across water. Lord Hadrin took the seat directly behind hers and leaned forward to whisper something to her. She glanced over her shoulder at him before her attention settled on me like a frosty wind. Only a thin, false smile cracked her face. Her ladies fussed with her skirts before sitting themselves nearby.
Lord Hadrin leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. His brooding gaze locked on me, and my fingers twitched where they rested on the arms of my throne.
How many of those seated on the benches were friends and how many simply waited to see who would win this subtle game of Wraithwaite being played before their eyes? It took considerable strategy to win, and it was anyone’s guess how any game might come out.
Merrick's gaze traveled through the room, and his voice carved through the low hum of whispers. “Welcome, citizens of Evergorne. I'd suggest we get started, but it appears some business hasalready been brought before our court this afternoon.” His attention landed on his mother and the others. “Do share.”
Erisandra stood, her gorgeous gown swishing around her ankles. She inclined her head toward Merrick, though not without flickering a glance my way. “It’s nothing of significance, my son.” Her smooth voice came out much too coy. “Merely idle chatter, beneath the dignity of this court.”
Her words slid off Merrick like rain on stone, though the tension in his shoulders told me how irritated he must feel.
“Idle chatter.” His voice held an edge of warning.
“What else?” Erisandra lowered herself back into her seat. “A queen mother often has little to occupy her time other than with simple gossip.”
I spoke out of the corner of my mouth to Merrick. “They’re organizing something.”
His eyes slanted to me, and he nodded. “We won't wait to discover what it is.”
He didn’t need to say it aloud. This court was a battlefield. Every glance, every word, and even silence could be used as a weapon.
And right now, we had no idea how many of their weapons were aimed directly at us.
9
Merrick
Erisandra’s little gathering infuriated me. From the moment Reyla arrived, my mother had done whatever she could to unsettle my court. To drive a wedge between Reyla and me. To wrest control of the kingdom away from us.
I would not allow this to continue.
Their gazes scattered like rodents under mine. Whatever strings they were tugging on, they were doing it in plain sight, and that irritated me more than anything else. It was disrespectful at best, treachery at worst. This court would not thrive if it rotted on the inside.
Too many were watching and waiting for cracks to appear. I would not break my resolve. But as much as I wanted to challenge her some more, everyone was listening. Everything I said or did in response to her taunt would be reported throughout the kingdom.
If I shrugged this off, it would strike later, when I least expected it. Better to have an inkling of what might be creeping up behind me.
With a tilt of my chin, I signaled Talvon. He strode toward me, his boots whispering across the marble floor as he leaped onto the dais and hurried over to stand beside my throne. The silver threading through his deep red livery gleamed in the lights. Leaning close, he inclined his head, blocking my mouth from view.
“Find out what they were talking about,” I said.
Talvon’s lips twitched with a feral grin. “It would be an honor, Your Majesty.”
He’d draw out answers without causing ripples to spread. After giving him a nod, he turned smoothly, his tunic shifting across his back as he descended the dais stairs. He strode toward the back of the room, lowering himself onto a bench with a loose, casual air countered by his intense focus on every single person in the room.
Facing the court, I lifted my hand.
The herald strode out into the center of the open area, silencing the whispers that had started up again in the crowd. His voice rang out. “Dalva Grevald, step forward and present yourself before His Majesty, King Merrick and Her Majesty, Queen Reyla.”
