“How do you know?” he asks as he stares at her.
“I was gifted the ability to discern truth from fiction,” I answer. “It comesin handy.”
His jaw drops again. “That is not something you’ve shared before, Mae.” He attempts a smile, but it falls flat.
I return it anyway. “There’s a lot to share. Where are Torben and Artis?”
He motions down a hallway. “They’ll be eager to see you.”
Hope blooms in my chest, but I squash it. I was hopeful they would provide more assistance last time, and they didn’t.
He opens a curved walnut door. Over his shoulder, I get a glimpse of King Torben and Queen Artis seated around a table. They turn at the intrusion. Artis’s hand covers her mouth, and she sets a fork down on the table. We must have interrupted dinner.
“Barrett—” Torben starts as he pushes back and stands from the table. His protest dies as our gazes connect. He forms a deep bow, as does Artis.
Huh. A very different reception than the last time we were here.
“Your Highness,” he greets me.
“Hello, King Torben, Queen Artis,” I say pleasantly as I nod toward each of them. “I’m sorry at the intrusion, especially during your meal. However, I come with some important updates that are a bit time-sensitive.”
Torben nods quickly, his beard shaking at the impact. “Of course, of course. Barrett, more chairs, boy.”
Wow, I get a chair this time?I bite my tongue, the question barely restrained. Even if Torben’s attitude is different today, I will not forget the way he treated me last time. Like I was some naïve girl. Not the High Queen.
Barrett disappears down the hallway, returning moments later with several wooden dining chairs floating behind him. He arranges them into a circle, and I motion for everyone to sit.
“Where are your daughters? The princesses?” I ask Torben.
He waves the question away. “They’re off reading their books somewhere.”
“I’d actually like for them to join, if you don’t mind.”
He furrows his brow at the request. “Why?”
I motion to Barrett. “Your son is here. Why should your daughters not also be involved in this conversation?”
Barrett hides a smile, then stands and exits the room, presumably to find his sisters. It doesn’t take long; he returns within moments, Princesses Arella and Eden in his wake. They bow when they see me, then offer a shy glance at Asmo beside me.
“Wonderful,” I say. “Arella and Eden. Thank you for joining us.” They dip their chins, cheeks turning pink. “King Torben, Queen Artis. Thank you for allowing me into your home once more.”
Torben leans back in his chair, one hand gripping the arm rest, just like on his throne. He clears his throat, but Artis speaks first. “Thank you for coming, Your Highness. We have been awaiting your return.” Her tone is gracious and welcoming.
I narrow my gaze. Again, I can’t help but notice how this reception is vastly different than the last one. The chair creaks as I lean back and survey them. Torben’s shoulders are slumped, and there’s an air to him that wasn’t there the last time. His gaze, previously unyielding, feels softer. “All due respect, but the last time I was here, you laughed in my face and all but kicked me out. What changed?”
A pink flush crawls up Torben’s neck. “Yes, well. You were right.” The admission is gruff, like it took all of his effort to say it.
I tilt my head. “About?”
He shifts in his chair, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “Marik and Cora called all the kings and queens for a council meeting. Cora told us that you’re dead, which we knew to be false. But then she threatened our children’s lives if we didn’t unanimously vote the witches in as a High House.”
I glance at Asmo, who watches Torben like a hawk. I wonder what he thinks about his brother agreeing to kill the other princes and princesses. He did try to kill Etta, after all. What would it matter to Marik to kill the others?
“After the meeting, she instructed us that it was time to host a witch inside our court,” Torben continues, “But we refused. That wasn’t a part of the deal.”
“So, they’ve been attacking your court ever since?” I ask.
Torben nods, gaze falling to the floor. Funny how quickly the bravado fades when a man realizes he’s wrong.
