Thane Selkirk was everything that Reyna did not like about courtly life. He wore an air of superiority like a cloak, and he peered down his very sharp nose at everyone beneath him. The low fae who served his food were nothing more than objects who would scurry around, doing whatever he pleased.
Unfortunately, Reyna had been seated directly beside him at the head table when Eislyn had not appeared for the feast. Reyna had spent the afternoon urging her sister toward the betrothal, as much as the conversation had pained her. Her younger sister was not suited to this task, and she deserved far better than this enemy of a prince. But Eislyn was their only option.
And she had made her position very clear.
“What have you studied?” Thane tried as he took a long gulp of wine from a chalice that matched his sleek golden hair.
“I have studied horse riding, owlry, sword and arrow skills,” she said crisply. That had not been what he’d wanted to know, but it was how she chose to answer all the same. Thane wanted to know what wifely, courtly skills she possessed. The answer to that wasnone.
Reyna did not know needlework, she could not play an instrument, and she certainly could not smile sweetly and listen to the dreary conversations between noble males.
Thane paused with his chalice halfway to his mouth, and then he eked out a very strained smile. “I see. Your father has certainly been lenient with you. Your sister, Eislyn…does she possess the same skills? What kind of training has she undergone? Similar to Glencora, I suspect.”
Reyna gave him a sharp look. “Eislyn is not here.”
Thane set down his chalice, sighing. “Reyna, I do not wish for conflict between us.”
“Then, let us change the subject to something else,” she said through gritted teeth. “I understand the importance of our alliance, but I do not wish to discuss my sister as if she is meat you wish to buy from the market.”
Silence hung heavy between them even as the roar of the feast filled the air. It seemed as though the entire Ice Court had turned out for the feast. Some of the lords and ladies were eager to meet their new ally, but far more were curious to lay their eyes on the enemy who would steal one of their princesses away from the castle. There had been very little outright hostility, though their veiled words had been clear enough. The ice fae did not trust the prince.
From the head table, Reyna stared out at the lively Great Hall. Two long wooden tables stretched across the stone floor, silver cloths draped along the length of them. Dishes were placed at regular intervals. There was roasted rabbit, venison pie with a flaky crust, and piles of buttery potatoes. The Ice Court had even imported slabs of sharp cheese from the Empire of Fomor specifically for this occasion.
Six banners hung along the walls, the court’s sigil proudly displayed in silver and blue. Before the war began a century ago, each banner in the Great Hall had been different, each highlighting one of the six courts of Tir Na Nog. Back before the realms had fallen apart.
“You care very deeply for your sister,” Thane said, lifting his golden brows toward the hawthorn tree tattoo that stretched across his forehead. “Both sisters, I expect.”
“I do,” she said. “They are the warmth that beats through these frozen lands.”
“Ah. Now I understand the words of your court.” He gave Reyna a slight smile. “I never knew my older siblings, so it’s difficult to imagine the protective instinct you must feel.”
“I would do anything for them.”
He turned and lifted his chalice once again. “Even marry a prince you do not like after formally removing yourself from the line of succession?”
Surprise flickered through Reyna’s mind. “I…”
He emptied his drink and then motioned at the nearest servant. “Do not look so concerned. This was never what you had imagined for your life, and I will not hold your resistance against you.”
“That’s very kind,” Reyna murmured, wondering if there was some kind of catch.
“I only ask that you remember what is expected of a princess, and of a future queen. It is quite different than what is expected of a warrior.”
Reyna frowned. “Perhaps it shouldn’t be.”
Thane let out a light laugh. “You may be right in that, but there is little we can do to change that. Instead, we must fulfill the roles that the Dagda has given us. If he decides that you ought to be my High Queen, then so be it. But Reyna, you must do what is required of you.”
Reyna grabbed her own chalice and drank deeply of the sweet wine. A mere second ago, she had forgotten how she felt about Thane and this entire alliance. He had almost seemed agreeable for a fleeting moment in time. Kind and understanding. But he was anything but.
“Unfortunately, I am not an option. I am no princess.”
Reyna suddenly felt the weight of a pair of eyes. She turned from Thane’s unyielding gaze and scanned the rousing crowd. The table that sat on the lefthand side of the hall did not hold the nobility. Instead, it had been packed with guards, warriors, druids, and stewards of the crown. One of them stared right at her.
She recognized the male as one of Thane’s personal guards. He had introduced himself as Lorcan, she believed. With chin-length black hair that hung in loose waves around his rugged face, his expression was shielded, but there was no mistaking the piercing dark eyes. He wore leather armor that clung tightly to his muscular frame, and a glinting Tamaris steel bastard sword was strapped to his back. As she met his eyes, his gaze never faltered. And something strange twisted in her gut.
Reyna flushed, sat back, and frowned. Why was this male staring so intently at her?
“Ah, you have spotted Lorcan,” Thane said from beside her. “He is my most trusted guard.”
