Page 18 of Blood of the Fairest

"Not buts. I swear on the coffee I wish I was drinking right now that if you don't go dismiss every single Favored right away, the executioner will be chopping off your head before noon."

His mouth drops open. "You're threatening me? I'm your chamberlain. You know very well that Isenmere Castle cannot run without me!"

I doubt that. In my experience, shady guys like this are usually standing on the merits of unseen others. He probably just takes all the credit.

"How many Favored are there, anyway?"

I feel like I have to ask, even though I'm sure I'll hate the answer.

"Eleven, at the moment, but you did say you were eager to encounter Aurefeld's spare prince if the opportunity ever presents itself. He is six years younger than Your Majesty, but is rumored to be quite handsome, just as you prefer them," he says, like we're talking about favorite ice cream flavors.

Yep, I hate it.

"How the hell is the queen not pregnant constantly, bouncing between all those dicks?" I'm so askance that I can't stop the question. "Is magical birth control a thing here?"

Schultz coughs much harder this time, trying to wave off my practical question.

"Your Majesty, really. You must be feeling quite ill to ask such strange questions. You're famously quite barren, of course. But as I've told you, the late king's daughter is heir enough in Isenmere's eyes that your condition poses no threat to your place on the throne. Until the princess marries, you shall remain queen, so you are free to enjoy as many Favored as you wish."

"I don't wish to enjoy them. I want them dismissed, right now." I wave him on impatiently. "Go. Shoo."

"But Your Majesty, think of the political ramifications!"

Steeling my back, I look firmly into Schultz's beady eyes. He's barely my height, since I've always been a little on the tall side.

"What do you value more, political connections or your head staying right where it is?"

Irritation flickers in his gaze before he gives me another freakishly wide smile.

"As you wish. I'll send all the current Favored away. Shall I summon the other men you have considered adding to your retinue in the past? I'm sure they will be eager to please you."

I love sex as much as anyone—but hooking up with guys who are only willing to dick down the queen for political gain?

"Hell, no. No more Favored."

"What? Your Majesty, in all the time I've been your chamberlain, you have always had Favored to entertain you. You loathe the long assemblies required to run the kingdom, and you've little interest in other hobbies. What precisely is going on with you? Even for your sporadic moods, to which I am accustomed and will of course always be patient through, you are behaving most strangely."

Now this asshole is trying to endear himself to me by pretending he's the only one who could possibly put up with this sporadic mood—a.k.a., advocating for what I want.

I'm guessing this is a go-to for him when dealing with the real queen. He's probably made himself indispensable to her, so she's simply let him run the kingdom. Considering how shitty and self-absorbed she seems to have been, maybe that was for the best.

But I'm here now, and until I find a way home, things are going to run differently. Maybe I'll even change the evil queen's reputation into something palatable before I go.

Starting with getting rid of this fucker and putting Merrick back where he deserves to be.

Before I can tell this guy to hit the road, a man dressed in servants' clothes appears in the hallway behind Schultz, wheeling a table full of covered plates. When he sees that I'm not veiled, he averts his gaze, bowing deeply.

"There you are. Don't you know what happened to the last dunce who brought the queen's food to her late?" Schultz scolds. "She had him whipped and locked in a public pillory in Isenhold for three days with no food."

Wow. Rhinestone sounds like a delight.

"F-forgive me, Y-your Majesty," the servant stammers, almost on the verge of tears as he remains bent over.

Yep, it's officially time for the queen's reputation to get a makeover.

"I'm actually not hungry this morning," I lie brightly. "So take that back to the kitchen for everyone there to share."

The truth is, I'm starving and still so fucking thirsty that it's hard to concentrate on much else. But I'm not ready to think about the thirst thing yet, and I'm not sure if I trust the food here.