Page 127 of Blood of the Fairest

Wulf gives us plenty of space, standing with his arms crossed back at the entry of this corridor.

"I'm sure that is not necessary, but…thank you, Verena." Merrick looks at me. "And thank you for saying you called Arnold here."

"There's nothing to thank me for. Your business is your business. By the way, what wing of the castle are your chambers in?"

He motions in a direction that means little to me, since this place is still a fucking maze inside my head. "The west wing."

"Are there spare rooms in that area?"

He regards me with a good-natured suspicion. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," I shrug innocently. "I just think we should probably set up the castle's new goldsmith over there. Just in case he needs to, say…I don't know, rant to you in the middle of the night for hours about my demanding jewelry designs. I think the incensed woes of a hot, bald goldsmith are something a chamberlain should handle personally, don't you?"

Merrick struggles to fight a surprised smile before he nods in agreement. "Well, if you insist, what choice do I have?"

"None at all. Stay on top of Arnold for me. That's a royal order," I add with a cheeky grin.

That makes him laugh outright before he rubs his neck as if bashful.

"Truthfully, I have not cared like this for someone else's incensed woes, as you put it, in many years."

His gaze lifts to one of the nearby portraits, becoming soft and melancholy.

I follow where he's looking and blink at the king posed majestically in the huge portrait—the spitting image of Snow White if she were a twenty-something-year-old man in a shining crown.

Oh, shit.

Now it's really hitting me just how cruel it was for the evil queen to fire Merrick immediately after King Leland's death, whether she knew it or not.

I look at the chamberlain. "I don't know how people treat love in this world, but I hope you know I won't breathe a word to anyone."

He seems to come back from distant memories before smiling at me.

"My gratitude and loyalty are ever toward you, Verena—of course they are, for I would and have buried bodies for you."

He says that like he's joking but dead serious at the same time.

I blink, confused. "What bodies? I haven't killed anyone."

Well—no one since the Three Stooges, anyway. And that guy I hid in the stable.

I still feel fucking awful for those poor horses who had to witness that.

Merrick looks around as if to check that we're alone. Of course, he does not see Eris in the nearby window before he leans down to whisper, "No one besides Schultz, you mean."

"What? Schultz is dead?" I hiss back, shocked.

My chamberlain straightens, equally confused as he drops the teasing.

"You truly didn't know? He vanished from his cell in the dungeon just before your trip to visit Ida. All that remained was enough blood to make it quite clear he did not escape. I figured you gave a covert order out of precaution—a wise move, since that snake would surely try to harm you sooner or later. Not to worry, I had everything handled with utmost discretion," he adds. "Everyone else believes he was banished to the Ashen Wilds."

My gaze flicks to Eris.

My gorgeous Adonis doesn't even bother playing naive. Instead, he kisses the tip of his finger and presses it to the glass, eyes on the beauty spot above my lip as if wishing he could press it there instead.

That does wild things to my heart.

As much as I don't appreciate these unhinged fairytale men killing that Frisbee-mouthed jerk behind my back…I am weirdly very flattered they did it just to protect me.