“I see.” Imogen smiled. “And did you get your answer?”
Reyna frowned. “She would not give up the name.”
“Instead, you let her escape, and we will never know the truth. We had the opportunity to find the truth, to save lives. You could be targeted again. Or your sister.”
Or my son, Imogen thought, though she did not speak that aloud. If anyone ever threatened his life, Imogen would tear down the very castle itself to save him. She’d lost her children once. She would not lose the only one she had left.
“You’re right. I could be targeted again,” Reyna said. “That is the very reason I questioned her. That’s been three attempts to murder me so far.”
“Aye. Did you not think I had my own plan, Reyna Darragh? One to find the truth? In time, I would have caught the assassin myself.” Imogen wound her fingers around the arms of the throne and squeezed tight. “I had you confined to your chambers for a reason, and yet you defied me. At the expense of the safety of everyone in this court.”
Lord Bowen murmured, and Imogen smiled. For a moment, she had sat on a knife edge. But she had made the right choice. Focus on Reyna’s failings. She’d given her enough to work with, after all.
“You are dismissed. Return to your chambers and stay there until I say otherwise.”
Reyna’s eyes went wide. “You cannot do this.”
“Oh, but I can, Reyna. Be glad I am not punishing you further.”
Imogen stood and strode out of the room, her deep orange gown swishing around her feet. She went straight for the Council Room at the back of the Great Hall where matters of great urgency would be waiting for her.
It was a room only the quarter of the size of the Great Hall, yet Imogen found herself spending far more time inside these four walls than she did on the throne. Thick carpet in shades of gold stretched across the timber floor. An oak table sat on top, in the very center of the space. A dozen windows lined one wall, letting in the vibrant morning light.
Aengus sat at the table, moving carved wooden pieces around a map of Tir Na Nog. His glossy ginger hair curtained his face as he peered down in concentration. He had begun to do this far more than he had in the past. He tried out strategy after strategy, pondering moves for hours. This time, he had put all of their forces into the Wood Court’s forest-covered lands, leaving none at the castle for protection against anyone else.
Shaking her head, she swept her hand across the pieces and smiled as they tumbled like fallen warriors. “That would never work. Another court would merely attack us while all our armies are gone.”
Aengus scowled, glaring up at her with narrow grey eyes. “Who? The Ice Court? I thought that wretched son of yours took care of that lot.”
Imogen pursed her lips as she dropped into the wooden chair across from his. “They are cowed for a time, but I do not trust them. There is also the Sea Court to consider.”
“Your family?” He snorted. “We would see them coming far before they ever got past the border. The Blade’s Pass makes for a slow trek, followed by the low Summer Hills.”
“Yes, which is why it’s easy to protect ourselves against them. As long as we have troops in our own kingdom. Try something else Aengus. And this time, be sure it makes sense. And do not forget to consider the bloody Shadow Court. I’ve had word that they’ve now attacked three of our forts near Findius. I don’t know what they think they’re doing, but it’s the most activity we’ve seen from them in years.”
“They’ll never breach the Findius Stronghold, and they’ll have the Wood Court to contend with far before they ever reach us.” Aengus narrowed his eyes. “But, I think, Your Majesty, that I will pass on my next attempt at our war strategy.”
Imogen recognized that look in his eye. He was a cunning, cruel fae, who rarely settled for what he had. Always seeking the next rung in his ladder. Always watching for weakness in those around him. She had allowed him that, encouraged him even, but she did not wish to entertain his grand delusions much longer.
“What is it that you want now, Aengus?” she asked icily.
“I want what you promised me. Divorce your husband, marry me, and make me the High King of this realm.”
A chill went through Imogen. She had wondered how long it would take her lover to bring this up again. At first, it had been easy to put him off, but as time stretched on...
“I cannot divorce my husband, and I certainly never told you that I would.”
“It was implied.”
She stared at him evenly. “The laws of the Dagda do not allow a High Queen to divorce her husband.”
“The law says that a High Queen cannot divorce theHigh King. It does not sayhusband. That is merely implied. And no one has seen Sloane for weeks. He scarcely matters anymore.”
Imogen was silent for a moment. The technicality did exist.
“I believe the druids would translate the text to mean that I cannot divorce at all. There has never before been a case of a High Queen married to someone who is not also the reigning High King.”
Aengus flashed her a wicked smile. “I know.”
