The king’s mouth works as if suppressing the urge to bare his teeth. “And how much time was spent teaching you?”
Sweat prickles along the back of my neck. I can’t tell if I should be striving to save myself or Abely. “I saw him the day he arrived. Perhaps once or twice more.”
The king’s gaze snaps once more to the necklace then back to my face. “And what knowledge did our honorable minister impart?”
My harried mind draws a blank. Surely, the man taught mesomething. I bite my lip, a nervous habit my mother had worked long to scold out of me. I look to my cat friend, who only busies himself with licking his backside.
“He let me know not to call you by your given name, Your Majesty,” I say.
An eye twitch follows this admission. “What else?”
I’m forced to shake my head.
His jaw tightens. “Then you did not know…”
Whatever his next words were meant to be, he lets them drift away between us like smoke in the wind. The fire in his eyes dims. A touch of pity pricks my heart at this abrupt forlornness.
Suddenly, he shoots to his feet, causing me to jump back.
“Why was I not told about this?” he demands.
“We—we did not wish to offend you, my king.”
His eyes blaze with fresh heat. For a moment, he doesn’t even seem to see me his rage is so great. I fight to convince myself that the horns aren’t lengthening as I watch.
“I’ll kill him,” the king snarls to himself. “I’ll bite off his head for this.” Whirling around, he stalks toward the door.
“Wait!”
I hardly realize I’ve come around the side of the bed, but here I stand in the middle of the room with nothing between the king and me but the wretched rug beneath my feet. He stops with his back to me.
“Your Majesty,” I say, “you aren’t really going to…what I mean is, surely, this can wait till tomorrow.”
I have no affection for Abely and his incompetency, but I don’t want to be responsible for hisdeath.
“Abely has dishonored Tirenth,” the king says without turning. “He has dishonored me, and he has dishonored you. One of those alone would warrant me dragging him from his bed and ripping him apart.”
His voice darkens as he speaks, and fear sees me leaping in to stop this descent.
“I agree he has acted most dishonorably,” I say. “But please, consider that I’ve only just arrived—”
“All the greater the insult.”
“—and having the head bitten off one of your ministers will not endear me to your subjects.”
Here, he pauses. His shoulders remain stiff, but they start to rise and fall in even measures. I begin to relax myself.
“I will kill him quietly,” the king says before angling again for the door.
True panic sets in. I can’t let him kill a man—a dragon, a whatever he may be—for being a ridiculous drunk! The king grabs the door handle.
“If you leave,” I call out, voice quavering, “I’ll tell everyone I threw you out of the room, and how will that look?”
He pulls up short. Slowly, his head turns back my way.
“What?”
I clench my fists at my sides. “You heard me. I’ll tell all the staff I threw you out. No one will believe we’re fated fires—”
