It had been weeks since the four of them had gathered here. He’d seen plenty of Lucan when he visited Carlijn, and occasionally met with Bastien and Drogan as their duties intersected. But they had not had a night all together in some time, and he was looking forward to it.
Lucan arrived first, dropping onto the bench opposite Rikard. His horns were polished to a gleam and capped in silver, and there was a semicircular mark on his neck.
Rikard squinted at it in disbelief. “Is that a mating bite?”
Lucan scoffed. “I’m not the mating type.”
“Sure looks like you let someone bite you.”
Lucan signaled the barkeep to bring them some wine, using the same motion to wave away Rikard’s concern. “Human teeth can’t break the skin. There’s no risk of forming a mate bond.”
“Carlijn?” He could not hide his surprise. “You know she’s betrothed to some human.”
Lucan laughed. “Perhaps you should remindherof that.”
Rikard frowned at him, but before he could deliver a lecture, Bastien arrived, ducking through the doorway. His long hair was tied back in the practical knot he wore for duty and he still wore his harness with the king’s crest, so he must have come straight from his post at the palace.
He sank onto his stool with a groan just as the barkeep arrived with their wineskin and goblets.
“Long shift?” Lucan asked, pouring cups for them all. It reflected well on Lucan, the wealthiest of their little group, that he could offer that kind of sympathy to Bastien, the lowest-ranking.
Bastien nodded, tugging the tie out of his hair so it fell loose around his shoulders. “The king held a banquet to celebrate the fae delegation’s arrival. Seventeen courses. I’ve been watching humans eat and drink for hours and hours.”
“Sounds diverting.” Lucan grimaced. Of course, he could not imagine doing something tedious for that long. Rikard, on the other hand, was more than familiar.
“How did you keep your eyes open?” he asked.
Bastien chuckled around the rim of his goblet. “It wasn’t that bad. I was stationed behind the queen, and she has a quickwit. The fae king sat beside her. He spent the entire banquet complimenting her, but every word had a double meaning. Most were meant for the king’s ears, not hers.”
Lucan leaned forward, interested in the gossip. “Like what?”
Bastien hummed as he tried to recall. “He admired her slender figure, saying it was unmarred by the rigors of childbearing. I know from overhearing other conversations that the queen very much wants a child, and the king is disappointed in her inability to provide him with an heir. The compliment was designed to damage her in the king’s eyes, but of course she had to accept it graciously.”
A little worm of anger twisted in Rikard’s belly. He understood very well how that would feel. “How does the king know she is at fault and not him?”
“What king is ever at fault?” Bastien said wryly. Lucan laughed, but Rikard didn’t think it was funny.
“How could he let the fae king speak to her that way, knowing her private pain? I would never let someone treat Hanna that way.”
“She carries your child,” Lucan objected. “You might feel differently if she did not.”
He leveled his gaze at Lucan. “I assure you, I would not.”
Bastien sighed. “It’s complex. The king needs an heir and his queen is no longer young. He fears for the future, and the fae king knows it. He hopes to drive a wedge between them. It won’t work, though. She’s too quick to fall for his trap. I hope the king values her wisdom too much to set her aside.”
“Careful talking about a human like that around Drogan,” Lucan said, amused. “You’re starting to sound impressed.”
Bastien shrugged. “I am impressed. Last week, she devised a way to fund the southern wall repairs without raising taxes on the lower rings, when none of the king’s councilors could. It was some elegant accounting. Even the Zenith admired the strategy.”
Rikard raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t like Bastien to take so much interest in the humans he guarded. The guardian instinct ran deep in him, solidified by heartstone vow, but it had always been impersonal. This human queen had made quite an impression on him.
Before he could probe further, Drogan arrived. His long, straight horns scraped the low ceiling before he took his seat, nodding to all of them.
“You came,” Rikard said. His own bitterness surprised him. He was still resentful that Drogan hadn’t attended the wedding and had turned down all his invitations to visit the eyrie since. Of course, he knew why, but it still rankled.
Drogan’s lip curled as he poured his own wine and tossed it back, then refilled it. “I said I would.”
“I didn’t know if our company could keep your interest. It seems you often have more important things on your mind.”
