Queen Badass would take him out and make sure no one ever found the body.
King Broen raised and then slowly lowered his hand. The room’s volume decreased. “I have been told my presence was required. Who has summoned me?”
A willowy woman sidled past Jess and made her way before the king, where she dropped into a curtsy. Pointed ears peeked out from lavender hair. “Majesty. I believe that is the correct greeting for your kind.” She stood ramrod straight but showed no sign of fear. She’d have looked right at home in a cheerleader outfit at a high school football game.
“To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?” The king showed courtesy, with a hint of caution.
“I am Queen Meyghian, of the Northern Reaches Elvish folk.” A gossamer green dress much too light for the draftiness of the castle further showcased the woman’s delicate features.
Broen tipped his head to the side. “Northern Reaches? I’d thought your tribe perished in the wars.”
“No. A few of us survived, no thanks to humans. Many by escaping to alternate realms until peace returned. With the death of the evil King Radre, I hope to summon my people home.” The elf queen’s voice, though soft, carried throughout the room.
“It gladdens my heart to hear your people have survived. They have long been friendly with the Hanaran line,” Broen said. He sounded strong for a guy supposedly at death’s door a few days ago.
Queen Meyghian dipped her chin. “That we have. It is past goodwill we hope will help us make our case.”
“What case?”
“There are others who stand with me.”
“Where are they?”
“Here.” George stepped out of the crowd. “You couldn’t pronounce my birth name. George is sufficient. My kind also fled to escape the wars. We don’t have hereditary ranks as you do. Our leaders are chosen. I am brother to the currentsachem.”
A beautiful black cat sauntered over to join the pair. Like Chynne, but not Chynne. “I am Muse Berstaid, whom you would call a familiar.” She hissed. “Enslavement. But that is a topic for another day. I, too, came to speak with you on behalf of my clan.”
The suspicion on King Broen’s face grew, and he surveyed the room, now mostly filled with nonhumans, or to Piers’ eyes anyway. “What is it you would have of me?”
Queen Meyghian turned an inquiring look on the others, who nodded. “We understand that you have taken a sorcerer into custody, the child of your own father and Sorceress Nyanda Gimitri.”
“We have.”
“Because of his power and bloodline, wisdom would say you cannot allow him to live.” Queen Meyghian’s words held a challenge.
Nearly imperceptibly, King Broen flinched. “Death is not my intention.”
Piers winced. Dead? They wanted to kill him. Had they killed Wycke? No. There. A warmth behind his breastbone said Wycke lived.
Queen Meyghian’s smile fell. “Ah, yes. But that is what your people demand of you, is it not? Some will say a sorcerer of Pieravor Gimitri’s power and influence threatens the safety of the kingdom.
“We are here to represent each of our respective peoples and inform you that we consider him an ally. He has done nothing to warrant his arrest but be his mother’s son in birth only. Your own mate is the child of a tyrant. Would you blame her for the sins of her father?”
The king remained quiet.
Queen Meyghian’s expression turned sly. “Oh, but you do. Maybe not the father's sins, but the brother’s, perhaps?”
A man, who might be a minister of some sort, spoke from his place beside the throne. “Queen Consort Saris kept important facts from His Majesty, clearly acts of treason.”
“Treason?” The whip-crack of Queen Meyghian’s voice brought gasps from those assembled. “She’d been told a helpless baby held no power and didn’t want to see him killed. Nor did she want her young brother used as a pawn. She stood for the helpless ones under her care. Isn’t that the purpose of a leader?” The tiny elf queen fairly vibrated with anger. “We value our young, having lost so many during your damnable wars! Do we blame you? Did we come seeking blood? No. We fled. Leaving our ancestral lands. Tirra Neu belongs as much to us as to your kind. We have a say in this decision. What happens if you kill this sorcerer to set an example? The next one will hide better and strike before you strike them. Before you make enemies, consider the chance to gain a powerful ally.”
She paused, composure settling around her. “In addition, you hold Prince Wycke of Myrgren, who has also proven his worth to those you’d prefer to think of as servants—if you think of us at all.”
King Broen clenched and unclenched his fists, his only outward appearance of discomfort. “How have you learned all these things?”
“My prospective future daughter-by-bonding has told me, has shown me.”
Jess? Was she talking about Jess? Elf Boy was a prince? Jess agreed to bond? Well, if she decided to wear something besides blue jeans for a guy, she must be serious.
