“Terribly inconvenient,” he insisted with passion. “I’ve only just begun to understand how trade works here in the elvish territories, and I’m only halfway through my volumes on the Isle of Wyn’s history.”
“And I would hate for it to interrupt your training,” I said, a vast understatement.
“As would I. I do not wish to leave, my lord.” The look in his blue eyes was determined and a tad rebellious. Cedrych’s indomitable will was better channeled than confronted head-on. Surely his mother must know that?
“Nor do I wish for you to go,” I said.
“Can you… do something about it?” he asked, looking hopeful.
“I intend to try. Your mother’s planning a visit before the next full moon to discuss it, and I plan to prepare my most compelling argument for your continued tutelage.”
Cedrych nodded, his open expression turning sly, not unlike his mother’s. “Tutelage, my lord? Is that what we’re calling it?”
I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. “Yes, you brat, because that’s exactly what it is.”
“There is something I’d like to practice, my lord, as part of myongoing tutelage.”
I shot him a wary look. “What’s that, Your Highness?”
Cedrych reached for the placket of my pants, trapping me like a fly in honey with his hedonistic gaze. “I think you know,” he said in a raspy, wanting voice.
Well, who was I to deny a royal fae prince his practice?
“You haven’t mademany improvements since I was last here, have you, cousin? Still the same drab and dreary ambiance as before. You’d think with all the time you have on your hands, and with your coffers surely overflowing, you might invest in some redecorating, a bit of a spruce up, hmmm?”
We were seated in my receiving parlor, seldom used. More intimate than the dining hall, less personal than my study. Cedrych was training with the guard, a good thing because I didn’t want Sinclair’s dubious attention on my betrothed.
“Welcome, cousin, I appreciate you making the trip over here,” I said in a conciliatory gesture.
“Yes, well, Cloud needed the workout and my guard of honor appreciates a good, hard ride, don’t you Sir Grantham?”
The man’s cheeks turned pink at Sinclair’s innuendo, though it was hard to tell if it was accidental or intended due to the quixotic nature of my cousin.
“Yes, m’lord,” Grantham said, focusing his gaze on some empty corner of the room.
“You may sit, Sir Grantham.” I motioned to the third chair I’d set out for the occasion, now empty.
“Prefer to stand, m’lord,” he answered with a respectful dip of his head.
“My guard of honor is always on the lookout for danger, cousin. A more loyal knight one could not find, isn’t that right, Sir Grantham?” Sinclair said, somewhat tauntingly.
“Aye, m’lord,” the over-large man responded, still avoiding eye contact with his liege. My cousin smirked privately at his guard’s modest response, as if amused by his discomfort, then turned his shrewd attention back to me.
“So where is the hellion, cousin? Your pretty blue-eyed fae prince with a penchant for danger? I’d hoped to make his acquaintance.”
“He’s training,” I said briefly.
“Training for what?” Sinclair asked.
“Training with the royal guard,” I answered.
“Ah yes, I was lucky to witness that act of valor at the tournament. Lucky for you he was there or the outcome may have been altogether different. Tell me, did you punish him for that bit of disobedience?”
Sinclair always had a knack for knowing too much, and unlike me, he put it right out there as if flaunting his insider information. I still couldn’t determine if he had spies in my kingdom or if he was merely that intuitive, and the fact that I didn’t know infuriated me.
“I believe you came here to speak of my parents’ murder, Sinclair, not of my betrothed.”
“But can’t we do both? It’s been sooo long since we’ve had a nice little chat. And I am fascinated by your choice in consorts, Mercier. I feel like I’m learning so much about you according to your preference in bedmates.”
