The words sent a jolt through me. I tried not to let it show.
Though Father had spent the past month around King Maximus and thereby his son, I never dared to inquire after Bennett. I knew doing so would be asking him to be disloyal.
“Father, you don’t have to tell—”
“His Highness was worried sick. Wanted to know if you were all right after the episode you had that night,” he said. “I told him about your magic being taken and that you were doing fine now. I would’ve told him more if I could.”
I ached to ask after Bennett too, but Father couldn’t be passing messages between us—it would be inconsiderate to put him in that position.
Father patted me on the back and turned the knob. “Go on, now. I think you will find His Majesty in a merciful mood, albeit prickly. But if he does not grant your wishes, I’ll have the abbey surrounded until he does.” His expression was disturbingly serious when he left me to enter the parlor.
King Maximus didn’t look up at my entrance, but his face pinched at the sound of the door closing.
“Narcissa,” he said gruffly. He sat on a plump armchair with rose pink upholstery, examining the trim on the cushions Lady Vanessa had sewed on recently. “It’s been a while.”
I curtsied. “Did you need anything, Your Majesty?”
He sighed, setting down the cushion. “Your father and Lord Frederick have been singing your high praises for the past month. And that Giselle, when she stormed in my office to quit the witch committee. I suppose my son would have done the same if he bothered talking to me.”
I parted my lips, but King Maximus held up a hand.
“I know you did not send them,” he said. “I am merely here to tell you that Celeste has been tried and imprisoned. General Turner and Dominic as well. The riots have died down ever since I enforced the newest policies on witch-made items, as you predicted.”
“That is good to hear,” I said. I had seen the papers reporting that last week. I was glad my promise to Patrick last month hadn’t been false. Hopefully the stagehand was seeing the effects of the new laws.
King Maximus regarded the window. “As for Bennett, he is how he has always been. Quiet. I never realized how quiet.”
“He’s not helping you draft laws?” I asked, unable to contain my curiosity.
“Helping is a generous word. He is acting more like a mute scribe than a crown prince,” the king said with a snort.
“Isn’t that what you wanted from him?”
King Maximus sucked in his cheeks. I was afraid I had overstepped my boundaries, but he slumped forward, looking older and more exhausted than I had ever seen him.
“I acknowledge my faults, Narcissa, but being king involves more challenges than you dare to imagine.”
I scuffed the carpet with my shoe. “If I may be so bold, Your Majesty?”
“By all means.”
“You’re paranoid.” Those were the same words Misty had told me so many months ago. “Your sons are not a threat to your throne.”
I recalled how Bennett and Prince Ash talked about working with the king, who evidently was used to having the final say on everything. Perhaps that was why Bennett learned to be soft-spoken—because he thought his voice didn’t matter.
“And neither was my former general, it turned out,” King Maximus said stiffly.
“It’s not your age,” I said quickly. He looked rather pathetic in the too-small armchair. “I only believe that Olderea will benefit from multiple rulers instead of one.”
“Bennett would tell me the same thing. If he would speak,” the king mumbled.
I cautiously sat in the seat across from him, unsure of the purpose of this conversation.
King Maximus sighed. “A banquet will take place next week to celebrate the completion of the tour. You are invited, obviously.”
I stared. “Your Majesty?”
“You will see him then. I tire of his sulking and you seem to be the only solution.”
