How he wished that were true. But as decent as Dash was, there was one important bit to this that they couldn’t overlook, and he waited until the server left them before he spoke. “She’s the daughter of Meara. Given how much he hates her… I don’t know if we should tell him.”
Ronan took a deep drink. “Doesn’t that make her an heiress?”
Xaydin frowned as he considered that. “If not for…what…three, four brothers? Anyone know how many kids Meara has?”
“No idea.” Ronan sighed. “But Ferox might already be dead.”
“Either way, Gisela doesn’t want to rule. She’d probably slap me if I even suggested it to her. From what she’s told me, she profanes all politics.”
“Can’t say I blame her.” Ronan looked up, then scowled as his gaze focused on something behind Xaydin’s back.
Xaydin turned to see what had caught his attention, then he fell silent, too. It was Mischief coming toward them with a tall, muscular man who dwarfed her in size.
More than that, his dark features were eerily similar to hers. They even had on matching brown leather armor. Distinctive in its own right by the leaf-like scaly appearance.
Brother? Maybe a cousin.
Whatever he was, he looked enough like her that they could easily be related. Right down to the gold star and streaks drawn over his face. Until now, Xaydin had assumed those were random patterns the Marauders liked to use.
Now, it appeared they might have more meaning than that. This looked more like some form of heraldry or family design.
Mischief didn’t speak until they stood by Ronan’s side, facing Xaydin. “My brother, Evar.”
Xaydin wasn’t sure which of them was most stunned by her declaration. All the years they’d known her, she’d never once mentioned her family.
Not a single word.
They’d figured that she must have some, and that, like all the rest of them, she was the bastard child of a monarch. It was what Meara had required as hostages to keep the peace of the kingdoms. A royal child and the child of one high-ranking noble from every king or queen had been sent to her for her so-called protection.
It sickened him to even think about it.
The Marauders had sent Mischief and a red-headed boy who’d died the first month of captivity. He couldn’t even recall that poor soul’s name now. Only how scared the boy had been and how sick he’d become within days of entering Meara’s court.
Since Mischief had never mentioned her parents, everyone had assumed the dead boy to be a prince and her the daughter of a noble. Which made sense as most of the royal children hadn’t been hearty enough to endure Meara’s torture.
Only the Outlaws, and they had banded together to make sure they could stand against the bitch queen.
But the bearing of her brother was as regal as any royal Xaydin had met.
He rose to his feet slowly. “Pleased to meet you, Highness.”
Instead of correcting him, Evar inclined his head imperiously. “My sister tells me that you’re hunting me.”
They all exchanged puzzled glances.
“Pardon?” Masakage asked.
“I’m the one Marstyn left his kingdom for.”
That was unexpected. Not that Xaydin cared who or what Marstyn loved, he was just a little surprised by it. “I take it that you’re here to tell us to go away and leave you alone.”
“In a manner of speaking. But I know Mardyth won’t stop until he drags Marstyn home. Neither of us wants that. What I was hoping for is a meeting where we may discuss the matter with the king.”
Clearing his throat, Ronan looked down at his tankard.
Xaydin didn’t need to read his mind to know what thoughts lurked there. Mardyth wasn’t the most reasonable of creatures.
“I’d rather not be a hostage again. But I have to say that of all the places I’ve been held, I rather did enjoy Mardyth’s palace.”
