I may still be plotting his demise, but now, he, too, will be plotting mine. And yet I dig my grave deeper. “Is the commander watching me so assiduously on your orders, Maezza?”
A groove forms between the king’s eyebrows. One that tells me he isn’t at the origin of these orders.
“On mine,” my grandfather says.
I swivel my neck to look at him. “Why?”
“You were raised by an enemy of the crown.”
“I was raised by the mother of your children.” I could’ve said spouse, but I don’t want to think of Nonna sharing a house with this man. She already shares his name. “Whom, I might add”—I turn my attention to the king—“respects you immensely, Maezza.” How fortuitous it is that my tongue’s unaffected by salt.
Marco’s skin and eyes aren’t gilded, yet they glow like the flames swaying beside him. “Although I’m glad to hear your grandmother doesn’t harbor ill feelings toward the crown, she isn’t on trial at the moment;youare. Tell me more about this scaled companion of yours. How do you control it?”
Him, not it.“I don’t have a scaled companion.”
The king arches a brow at Silvius, who vibrates with barely contained antipathy at my side, because he knows I’m lying.
I make sure to look wide-eyed and forthcoming. “If you doubt my word, by all means, feed me more salt.”
The king’s eyes drop to my throat. “Why does your heart palpitate so?”
I gulp down the wad of panic building at the back of my throat.
“Because she lies,” Silvius murmurs.
“BecauseI’m intimidated,” I correct him, attempting to ease both my voice and pulse. “Give me more salt. From another source, since Silvius doesn’t trust his general.” I toss out that last part, hoping this will make me an ally of the man whose blood flows through my veins.
My quip hits Justus in the ego, the exact spot I was aiming for. “Many men would sacrifice the tips of their ears for your position, Commander Dargento.”
“I wasn’t . . .” A blush stains Silvius’s sharp jaw. “Your granddaughter put words in my mouth. I would never insinuate such a thing, General.”
Justus clicks his little snuffbox back open, then closed, then open. After a protracted look with the king that results in the latter nodding, Justus extends the box toward Silvius. “Put some on your tongue.”
Silvius’s eyes grow so wide that his irises bob in a pool of white. He darts out his hand and pinches a few flakes, which he quickly ingests.
“Where do your loyalties lie, Silvius?”
“With King Marco and with you, General.”
The king studies the commander’s fiery face. “Ask your man a question he won’t want to answer, Justus.”
“I hear you’ve been thinking of settling down. Which female has caught your eye?”
Perspiration beads across Silvius’s hairline and rolls down his temples. “I’d rather not say.”
“How come?” Marco seems amused by the commander’s unease. “Is she that unappealing?”
“Because . . . because . . .” Silvius grits his teeth. “Because she’s not a pure-blood.”
“Ah . . . One of the ladies fromBottom of the Jug, I presume?” The king smiles darkly. “Their in-house courtesan did mention you spend much time there when she attended to my needs the other night.”
I gape at Marco, surprised he’s dropped the information of his philandering so freely, before remembering he’s marrying out of duty, not out of love. For all I know, his betrothed has a slew of lovers as well.
“The suspense is killing me, Commander. Who is this lucky half-blood you care to marry? Catriona, perhaps?”
“No.” Silvius casts his gaze on the shiny points of his boots, deeply embarrassed by the turn of conversation.
“Another harlot?” Marco enquires.
