My throat had become scratchy. “Could I have a glass of juice, if possible?”
His face dropped, and he moved to pour me a cup. “I never thanked you for what you did for me and my staff,” he started. “Especially after Mireal found the truth behind your illness.”
I hadn’t expected her to tell him about our conversation or even disclose that I’d been poisoned. “Is she your girlfriend?” I leaned against the counter and fiddled with a bowl of blueberries. “Not that you have to tell me. It’s your business, of course.”
“We’re friends.” He handed me the cup. “Friends that look out for each other. Even if they know the other might’ve done something wrong. Pretty scarce to find someone like that around this place.” He moved the bowl and ran fresh water over the fruit, setting it on the counter and out of my reach. He guided me away. “But I need you to know that I had nothing to do with your food being tainted. I’m not sure who was responsible, but if I did, I’d take care of them myself.”
Taking a drink from my cup, I considered his words. I’d felt alone since my mother died—felt abandoned from not only her decision, but my brother’s too. Yet I’d not considered those who’d risked themselves for me. Benton and Orion used their magic to repair my garden, despite the risk of execution if caught. Jaspar stole Roark’s uniform just for the chance to speak with me. Col, Amalee, and Sky hadn’t had to risk themselves for me, but each of them chose to. And Draven would have held someone accountable, yet he hadn’t known me for long.
“I never suspected you or your staff had anything to do with that night. It was Maris.” I pressed my mouth into a tight line. “Anyway, I came to thank you for being kind to me while I was here. You didn’t need to, but you were.”
He shrugged and wrapped me in a hug. “Friends show up.” He pulled back and looked at me. “Keep your chin up, thingswill work out. Even if you don’t like my cake.” He let out a chuckle, turned, and began smashing the blueberries.
Holding my head high, I strode through the corridors, finding my way to the hall leading to the royal quarters. Perhaps if I believed that I belonged, the watchful eyes would believe it too and allow me to pass.
The regular guard I’d seen day-after-day was gone, but the red-haired female from long ago stood against the wall, surely fighting off boredom.
“Guard Asher,” I purred, and hoped she’d remember me from the ball rather than the streets. “So nice to see you, it’s been a while.”
She hesitated, straightened her back, and eyed me curiously. I wasn’t sure if she recognized me as Ryder’s betrothed or otherwise.
“Prince Sutton is expecting me.” I moved to walk forward, but she stepped away from the wall and blocked my path.
“He’s still in the meeting.”
“Oh, I know that. He told me to wait for him in his rooms.” I forced a wink.
A slight sneer crossed her face. “You and Maris both? At the same time?”
Jealousy twinged through me. I hadn’t expected him to be so blatant with his extracurricular activities, regardless of how bad things were between us. I definitely didn’t think he’d flaunt her around for all to see.
I adjusted my shirt. “Men. One’s never enough.” I gave her a tight smile before stepping forward again.
The guard gave me one final look and then sidestepped, allowing me to pass. “I guess.” Her tone was low and sarcastic behind me.
My body trembled with nervous energy; I hadn’t expected to get through so easily. For a moment, guilt poured over me, realizing the guard could be executed for her mistake. But she likelysent many to their deaths with no guilt of her own. I forced the feeling down and continued on.
I recalled the route to Ryder’s room and tried to remember where it was in relation to the directions Jaspar had given me at the ball. He’d only given me the list of turns a couple of months ago, but it suddenly felt like a lifetime had passed. So much had changed, though my goals remained the same.
I took the first left, walking away from the direction of Ryder’s room. Nearly smacking straight into Maris, I stopped in my tracks. She blushed, likely from embarrassment at being caught in the royal quarters of my future husband.
“What areyoudoing here?” Maris shifted on her feet and, with shaky hands, pushed against her skirts.
“I’m going to visit my betrothed.” I lifted my chin and raised an eyebrow. “Shall I assume you’re doing the same?”
She cleared her throat, but didn’t answer.
“Look, I know you’re having sex with him, and I don’t care.” I rolled my eyes. “The more you fuck him, the less I have to.” There was no reason to continue the ruse of fighting for his hand; I didn’t want it, and with any luck, I would be gone soon enough.
“Why are youreallyhere then?” Her brow creased.
A minute passed as we stood and eyed each other suspiciously, neither of us giving ourselves away.
“I’m going to be the queen. I don’t owe my husband’s whore an explanation,” I spat.
I’d expected her to let my words roll off, but she looked injured by them. In such a short time away, she’d become less of the feisty woman I’d known most of my life. She'd grown sensitive, unwilling to verbally spar with me.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—” I started.
