Page 33 of This Is Not True Love’s Kiss

“We don’t know that it can. We don’t even know if they have a new weapon. It’s all hearsay, rumors that our scouts have picked up on.” Lor rubbed his stubbled jaw. “There is nothing for us to do right now.”

“No.” I pounded my fist on the table, and Morton jumped. “That’s not true. We have to know what weapon they have, if they’re planning something.”

Lor’s face hardened. “There’s been no sign of the brotherhood anywhere near our city. They don’t know we’re here.”

“You were part of the brotherhood just a few years ago,” I shifted in my seat to face him, not bothering to address the rest of the room. “You brought the brotherhood here.”

Lor’s jaw clenched, and I knew I’d hit a nerve. “I only brought two members with me. And they were coming no matter what. I came with them to protect Fairwitch Isle. One of them was part of my rebel group, and I took care of the other,” he said, looking away, shoulders tensed. “I did everything I could to protect Fairwitch Isle and take down the brotherhood.”

“But you failed,” I said, voice shaking as I imagined Fairwitch back in this very seat, staring at me with their cold, hard gaze.

I wouldn’t ever go back to that. I wouldn’t ever let my people be subjected to that again. It wasn’t the mortals the brotherhood would want to control, to use. Mortals were useless to them, but the Fair Folk? With our abilities to shift and portal—that would be valuable, exactly in the way it was valuable to the godwitches. That was why they made us—to serve them with our abilities.

“Okay.” Wolfe held out his hands. “Let’s adjourn our meeting for today. Nothing has to be decided right now.”

Lor and I continued to stare at each other, clearly at a standstill.

“Thank the godwitches you stopped them before a punch got thrown,” Morton mumbled.

Ambrose laid his hand on mine, and Lor abruptly stood, his chair falling backward and hitting the stone ground with a clang. “Meeting adjourned,” he said before spinning on his heel and marching out of the room.

CHAPTER 16

Castle

Castle watched the queen leave the council room in a hurry, and it wondered why both royals had so abruptly left.

“What was that about?” Meera asked inside the council room, the cat licking her paw.

“Can you not groom yourself in private?” Fargus asked, feathers ruffling.

“I had to watch you pull the entrails from a mouse the other day,” Meera said. “I think you can deal with this.”

Even the royal advisors couldn’t get along.

Morton blinked, his tail undulating behind him. “That was odd. His Majesty is never one to leave a meeting early, and Her Majesty is not one to attend a meeting. They’re both acting strange.”

Neither Wolfe nor Ambrose met the gazes of the others.

Lor had been upset by something, something that hit a deep wound the king held. Castle could not read minds, but it could feel the emotions of those who dwelled within its walls.

Lor was on a mission, one that had distracted him so much he’d ended this meeting early. And now Aoife was following him.

Interesting. Very interesting.

The queen fled down the same hallway as her husband, quiet and far enough behind that he took no notice of her. If Lor was in his right state of mind, he’d likely realize he was being followed, but His Majesty was frazzled, ever since the queen made the comment about him failing to take down the brotherhood.

Castle weighed the pros and cons of what was happening. It could intervene one way or another. Stop the queen from her pursuit of Lor . . . or encourage it. Castle had meddled many times before, and it had never gone well in the past.

But perhaps things were shifting. It was imperceptible, almost, but Castle could have sworn the king stepped in for the queen during the meeting, that he’d helped her when her mind had been elsewhere. The king could have embarrassed the queen for not paying attention, could’ve used the opportunity to undermine Her Majesty, show the council why he was the better fit to rule.

But Lorcan Wolfgang had not done that. He’d helped her while maintaining her dignity.

And yes, the meeting had ended in an argument, like it often did between the king and queen, but even the argument felt tame compared to arguments in the past.

Neither had raised their voice. No chairs had been thrown. No angry, reddened faces. They hadn’t even stood and gotten nose-to-nose like they so often did when they wanted to make a point.

Small, but significant.