Page 124 of Blood of the Fairest

He fumbles at the sight of my bare-faced glower. "My Queen, I only meant⁠—"

"You meant that you don't respect the vote of this council, including your own. If that's true, get the hell out. I can replace you with someone who actually respects Isenmerian nobility—maybe your father, Lord Bellavyr, would be interested?" I add, glancing at Anika. "What do you think?"

She's careful not to smile too much, but I can tell she's enjoying the way Sir Kranz is sputtering now.

"N-no! Your Majesty, of course I respect the vote of this council! I just…misspoke."

"In that case, be a good boy and apologize to Lady Bellavyr so we can move on."

The middle-aged former knight turns red at my wording. "Excuse me?"

"I will, permanently, if you don't cough up a thorough apology to my friend," I warn.

He must value his life because he holds his tongue.

He's right in the middle of begrudgingly apologizing to Anika when the large door to the council chamber opens, and Wulf enters the room.

His glacier gaze goes to me at once. All the pearl-clutching nobles who look scandalized to see a northerner in this room don't seem to exist to the legendary warrior as he strides to take his place behind my chair.

Eris shows up, too, emerging in the reflection of one of the stained-glass windows.

"What have we missed, Fairest?"

I'm obviously not about to answer him surrounded by all these people—but I tense when a faint scent drifts over me. It smells a lot like apricot jam.

When my throat starts to burn again, thirst beating against the inside of my empty stomach, I know what I'm smelling.

When I squint accusingly over my shoulder at Wulf, I spot a smatter of red on his leather shirt, near his shoulder.

Sweat breaks out on the back of my neck.

Eris sighs. "I did warn him to bathe, but the brute was stubborn about returning to you at once since he was away so long."

What the fuck have these two been up to?

No, wait. Maybe I don't want to know. If Wulf was out hunting for dinner as a bear and ripping more things into pieces the way he did those poor, ugly wolves, I really don't want to picture it.

Vaguely, I've been aware that Merrick has already started a discussion of other things amongst the nobles.

But an irritated, elderly noblewoman speaks over the others.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty. It is always such a privilege to see a face such as yours, and we are all glad you have joined us—but does that northerner really have to be in here? Your Favored have never been allowed to sit in on such important meetings before," the white-haired woman adds, eyeing Wulf.

"Why she has taken a northerner as a Favored at all is beyond me," Sir Kranz stage-whispers.

That gets some nods of agreement from other Privy Council members.

My temper is on a short leash thanks to the way this apricot blood is taunting me—so I'm grateful when Merrick steps in quickly, setting down the quill.

"My dear Lady Dorn and Sir Kranz, how ignorant you sound. This is no mere northerner, but the fabled Huntsman of the North who has slain more monsters than any other living man. Now he is our fair queen's faithful protector. At least feign tolerance, if you cannot scrimp together the respect such a hero deserves."

His spiel earns Wulf a few wide-eyed gawks from other Privy Council members as if they're finally putting a very handsome face to the name.

Lady Silber begins fanning herself.

Same, lady. Same.

"Whoever he is, it cannot warrant the way you have spoken down to me," Kranz scowls at Merrick. "You are but a chamberlain."