I brace for a verbal beating, a lecture about how Mayah is a weakness and that I’m a pathetic embarrassment and undeserving of my title.
But his words surprise me.
“Your brother grows worse,” he says, fingers steepled beneath his chin. “He’ll hold a grudge about … your wife for months.”
I snort. “More like years.”
“Do you think there’s hope for him? As king?”
I stare at my father in surprise. He’s never broached the subject about Faramir’s episodes, at least not with me. We’vealways contained his outbursts, then continued on as if nothing unusual occurred.
“If we can manage his moods. Control him at public events. Someone will have to assume responsibility for actually running the kingdom—and handling him.” I scrub a tired hand down my face, exhaling sharply. “I suppose it’ll be me.”
Silence envelops us until my father rises. “I have some matters to attend to. Oversee the rest of the meeting.” A beat. “Please.”
He leaves me in stunned silence.
Chapter Thirty
Ihaven’tseenMayahintwo days. The adviser drones on about the Rebellion’s movements, scouts that never returned, but none of the words register. My father and Faramir are absent, doing Skies knows what, leaving the kingdom’s matters to me.
Two. Fucking. Days.
What is Mayah doing right now?
The portly adviser takes his seat, replaced by another one. I can scarcely distinguish them, all wearing forest green overcoats and auras of self-importance.
“…second shipment to Tundrayn.”
His words jolt me from my thoughts.
“What about the second shipment?”
The advisers stare at me in surprise. I realize it’s the first time I’ve spoken in the meeting today.
“Er, the second shipment of food stores to Tundrayn.” Sunlight glints off the adviser’s spectacles as he checks his notes. “It’s due to leave in three days.”
“What are we sending?”
He checks his notes again. “Per the agreement, two carriages laden with breads and grains, two with vegetables and fruit, and a small herd of sheep. Assuming they survive the journey.”
“Triple the amounts.”
He blinks. “Apologies?”
“I said triple the amounts.”
“Sire—”
I grit my teeth. “What about 'triple' is confusing to you? Do you need help with the sums?”
He flushes, averting his gaze. “No, sire. It will be done.”
I rise from my chair. “I’ll return later.”
“But sire—”
The door slams shut behind me.
