What an unexpected moment.
I drag my eyes back to the king before I have to pick my jaw up off the dais.
With a polite clear of my throat, I turn to my second, waving a hand toward him. “This is Second.”
The king’s eyebrows perch at his hairline, and then his upper lip curls before his words slur out. “Ruthlessqueen. Won’t even let your court have names.”
I don’t correct him. I am ruthless when I need to be.
He licks his lips, eyes running up my bodice. “An enticing choice for a wife.”
Second steps forward with a hiss, a pace before me. “Noton the table.”
The king glares at Second. “You’re an assertive one, aren’t you?”
I raise my hand. “I look forward to our discussions,” I say vaguely, keeping tempers at bay for now.
Second’s head jerks to me, and with great effort, I ignore him. Nothing was going to stop me from this visit, even if it meant keeping the contents of the letter private.
Bold and brave.
With all that I am.
The king clicks his tongue. “Let’s dine, shall we?”
“I fucking hate this guy already,” Charlotte whispers into my ear before stepping toward the king and cooing, “I’m starved.”
I turn to look at her, pinching my lips to suppress my grin.
She tosses King Nerian a sweet smile.
Charlotte’s conniving and manipulation will have the best at any court wondering what happened when she’s done with them. She’s been integral in wooing and distracting my foreign princes’ companions while I worked on the larger target.
Nerian’s gaze rakes her up and down next. “You’re a lovely thing. Doyouhave a name?”
She bows deeply to her knee, gown pooling around her and breasts spilling over green silk.
“Charlotte, my king,” she purrs, her bright blue eyes drinking him in.
“It’s a pleasure, Charlotte,” Nerian drawls as he stands from his throne, his slim build drowning in fur. “And who is your other companion, Queen Veya?”
Emmanuel steps to my side.
“I always travel with my most entertaining attendants. This is Emmanuel.”
Nerian eyes Emmanuel, and my assassin offers him a curt nod.
The king snorts and descends the dais. “I’m no fool, Queen Veya. And I didn’t expect you to travel to Goreon with anyone less than your best.”
I try not to sigh. Nerian is right—a vampire who’s survived this long as a ruler is no fool.
The royal Goreon guards shift to attention, lining the entirety of the hall, their red eyes soulless but alert, like once-vibrant cranberries now crushed beneath an unforgiving boot.
Second and I step to one side as the king passes, Del descending after him, and I hold the breath and nerves in my chest, still in disbelief that I’m a few feet from Nerian.
Del’s eyes skirt to mine, piercing and captivating.
“I can’t believe you came,” he whispers, and my gaze narrows on him as Nerian marches ahead, Charlotte accompanying the king and feigning interest over his impressive throne room while fielding his complaints about how long human labor takes to build such things.
