And he remembered just how much she’d gone through. Alone and lost and hungry. It was no wonder she was overwhelmed.
She had no reason to trust them at all. Why would she? If one of his sisters had been lost in the woods and strange men accosted her, terrified her, and then just blurted out that her only brother was dead, he would have no hesitation in killing the lot of them. Whatever good excuse they thought they had.
He rubbed his free hand down his face, trying to clear his muddle of swirling thoughts and feelings. Given everything she’d been through and how much he’d just thrown at her, she was handling it all very well.
“I’m sorry, I’m doing this all wrong.” He let out a huff of almost laughter. “You know, some people even think I’m charming.”
She turned to look at him, her head giving a tiny, involuntary shake of disbelief.
“Not you, obviously. Which is fair enough,” he admitted with a rueful smile. He squeezed her shoulder gently and then let his hand drop. “There is no baby. And Alanna certainly doesn’t want you, Lucilla, dead.”
She watched him carefully as he continued, “Ballanor died in trial by combat a few weeks ago.” He couldn’t bring himself to say that he was sorry for the loss, and he continued with the facts instead. “The trial was held at the Temple of the Nephilim at Eshcol and overseen by the Supreme Justice. You’ve heard of the Nephilim?”
She dipped her chin a few millimeters.
Of course she had. She had almost certainly been taught that the Nephilim and the Apollyon were both descendants of the angels—with rightful dominion over theanimalsof the earth. Suddenly Ballanor’s complete blind spot toward having any Mabin in his personal guard was making so much more sense. Fuck it all.
He swallowed down his confused irritation and continued. “So you understand the trial was legal?”
Her face was blank, but she was still watching him closely.
“After Ballanor died, his wife, Alanna, chose not to return to the palace with his advisors. Instead, she let everyone know that you are the rightful queen. She asked us to find you, and we’ve been looking for you ever since.”
“Why would she do that?” Lucilla whispered, perhaps not realizing that she was giving herself away.
Mathos looked across to Tor, who merely shrugged. How the hell was he going to explain this?
His beast rumbled.With the truth—tell her everything so she understands.
Mathos had spent his life listening to his primal beast. He was as close to it as any Tarasque he knew—although he was still waiting for it to finally provide him with some lovely lethal claws like Tristan had developed—but he would not be listening to it this time. Telling her everything all at once, when she was tired and suspicious already, was a horrible idea. He’d already been much too blunt and upset her. It would be far better to ease her in gently.
He would tell her the truth, yes, but in bite-size pieces. Start with the most important facts, and then let her get used to him and Tor and eventually get to know the others. Then it would all make sense to her when they told her everything.
He chose his words carefully. “The man who fought against Ballanor in the trial was one of the Hawks. Lanval. He was Alanna’s personal guard. They grew… close. Afterward, she chose to stay with him rather than return to the palace.”
“And this man, Lanval, he killed Ballanor?” Lucilla asked in a low voice.
Mathos shook his head. “They fought in front of witnesses, but Val didn’t kill your brother.” He hesitated. Gods. How did you tell someone that their brother was a lying, cheating, abusive asshole? In as few words as possible, that was how. “Ballanor dipped his sword in a fast-acting poison. During the fight, the tip broke off and cut him on the cheek. He died by his own hand.”
“He cheated? And tried to kill someone? In front of the Supreme Justice?”
“Yes.”
Lucilla closed her eyes for a long moment, and he wondered if she was about to cry. Hell, he hoped not; his beast was in turmoil as it was. But when she opened them again, her eyes were surprisingly clear.
“No. It doesn’t make sense. If Ballanor died, then the Lord High Chancellor would simply go and get this Princess Lucilla.”
Mathos shook his head. “The previous Lord High Chancellor—Grendel—died a few days before Ballanor. There’s a new Lord High Chancellor now. And he was just as surprised as the rest of us to learn that Ballanor had a sister. But he’s looking for her, I assure you. In fact—”
“Ballanor and Grendel are both dead?” she interrupted.
“Yes.” He winced as he admitted it, hoping that he wasn’t going to have to admit that not only had the Hawks been inadvertently responsible for the death of her brother, but they’d been directly responsible for the death of the Lord High Chancellor. Bollocks.
“They’re really dead.” She seemed to be talking to herself. She pressed her hands to her mouth, and Mathos braced himself for the tearful breakdown he was sure was coming this time.
Which never happened. Instead, she laughed. It was shaky and quiet, almost hysterical, but it was definitely laughter. “I’m free,” she said softly, her eyes suspiciously bright. “Gods.”
“Yes,” Mathos agreed, flooded with relief at how well she was taking this. And the fact that she wasn’t pushing for any more details. “You’re free to come out of hiding and take your rightful place as queen.”
