“You’re protective of me without locking me in a room.”
“Leo and I have very different definitions of protection. He wants to hide you away from danger, where I want to hand you a sword so you can fight. Metaphorically, of course. I’m absolutely not giving you a sword.”
“Fire is a much better weapon, anyway.”
Damien leaned back on the bench. “Leo has it backward. You’re a hell of a lot more fun now. I like the new Evelyn who sets men on fire when they piss her off.”
She channeled her inner dragon and blew a stream of Fire past her lips.
Damien jerked out of the way before the flames reached his face. “Hey! You’re going to burn my fucking eyebrows off!”
“You said you like my Fire magic.”
“Not against me! I didn’t do anything to deserve being attacked.”
“Except this whole conversation is you sayingI told you soabout me marrying Leo.”
Damien had the decency to look guilty.
“Dammit,” Evelyn whispered. “What am I supposed to do? We’re already married! I have to fix this.”
“You’re a queen no matter what. Let’s figure out the mystery deaths in the kingdom first, then you can worry about your husband.”
“Leo won’t have a reason to send me away anymore if we stop finding bodies.”
“Love the optimism. Now come on.” Damien held out a hand for her. “Let’s go find Wendell. Maybe the old bastard knows something by now.”
69
Translation
Moeller took Damien, Evelyn, and Leo to see Councilor Wendell. They were told the ancient fae had an office in a remote corner of the castle. So Evelyn couldn’t understand why Moeller brought them into a large storage space, alabyrinthof three-meter-tall stacks of books waiting to be reshelved. It wasn’t until they found a white-haired man muttering at a desk in the back of the room that it became clear they were already in Wendell’s office.
“He’s tidied up a bit since I was here last,” Damien whispered.
“Regium stultum nimis occupatus est ad proprias investigationes faciendas. Probabiliter bibliotheca quid sit ne scit quidem,” Wendell grumbled as he scribbled something onto faded parchment.
“Good morning, Wendell,” Moeller said loudly.
Wendell sighed with the long-suffering exhaustion of a forgotten deity. He slowly stood to face them. His black eyes were startling, his pupils permanently dilated from thousands of years reading in low lighting. He had ghostly pale skin andwhite hair, but his shirt and trousers were dark. Evelyn had seen illustrations of the human life cycle, but Wendell looked even older than the pictures of elderly mortals.
“Hello, Councilor Wendell,” Leo began. “I am?—”
“The juvenile king,” Wendell interrupted before turning his attention to Evelyn and Damien. “The whore’s child and the reckless warrior.I know.”
Wendell’s voice was strong, a striking contrast to his apparently frail body. Leo blinked at him. Evelyn’s fingertips heated, ready to throw flames at the old man.
Damien waved. “Good to see you, too, Wendy! It’s been?—”
An invisible burst of magic hit Damien’s midsection and sent him flying backward. He hit a pile of books and collapsed to the floor. Evelyn started toward him, but Moeller held out an arm to block her.
“Oof,” Damien grunted.
“Ophelia should’ve killed you during the war.” Wendell seethed.
“I forgot you don’t like nicknames,” Damien said, rising to his feet. “My apologies.”
“How dare you!” Evelyn shouted at Wendell. “We’re here asking for help and you attack us?”
