Page 66 of A War of Three Kings

I glance up at her. “Do we have to go?”

Her words catch in her throat as I pull down the neckline of her dress with a single finger and dart my tongue across her nipple. She has to try multiple times before she can speak coherently. “You know we do.”

It is an effort to pull myself away and stand to my full height.

I place my hands on either side of her shoulders, caging her, and stare into her eyes. “After the meeting, you are mine. I don’t care how, but we are going to escape any chaperones assigned to you. You’re not a child.”

We leave the alcove—not so discreetly, but there is no one around in this back corridor. This place is like a maze, and we take many turns before arriving at a set of heavy doors with the symbol of a sword crossed with an ax engraved into each. Two guards open the doors as we approach and the voices within pause immediately.

Around a table with a map sprawled out across it sit the lords and countess, as well as Keira’s father, grandmother and sister. There are stone tokens placed across the depiction of the kingdom of Strathia, clearly marking players in the impending war.

Edmund leans over the table, his finger still pointing at a location as he turns to us. “Keira. Aldrin. Take a seat, please.” His words are clipped.

Keira pulls out a chair next to Caitlin and gestures for me to take the one beside it, putting me between her and Naomi. I don’t know how close I want to get to the old spider, lest she try to poison me again.

“Sit, Aldrin,” the High Priestess huffs, only loud enough for me to hear. “Do not forget, the fae have the backing of the Mothers of Magic, and we are monitoring themveryclosely.”

I give her a sidelong glance as I sit. It’s not exactly a glowing recommendation.

“Do we really want the fae to be a part of these talks? Are we not handing over strategic information about our kingdom to him?” Lord Tomas glances to Lord Bradford and Lord Adalwolf for support. A wave of frustration rolls over me, followed by deep fatigue.

“The faehas a name,” Edmund growls. “Aldrin is an ally and of noble blood. You will treat him as such.”

I pin the little lord with a dark look. “What happened to the commoners of your estate who attacked your Lord Protector’s camp, Tomas? Do you know how close they came to putting a bolt through Keira? I took an arrow for her that night. What have you done to prove your loyalty?”

Everyone in the room who wasn’t there stares at him with open horror.

“Your people didwhat?” Countess Lynna slams her hands down on the table, looking ready to tear his throat out with her teeth.

Tomas raises his hands in the air. “Already executed. They did it without my knowledge, you see. But one can’t blame them for seeing fae in their territory and trying to put them down. It is the law, after all.”

Part of me—a huge fucking part of me—wants to pick the little lord up by the throat and show him just how weak and pathetic he is, but that won’t win the other humans to my side.

“You’re worried about some fucking laws right now, are you, Tomas?” I growl. “Because I have bad news for you, considering it is probably treason for you to be sitting here in this meeting, planning a rebellion.”

“I won’t hear any more of your slander, Lord Tomas.” Keira points a finger at him, rage flashing in her eyes. “There are true enemies marching on our doorstep, and all you want to do is cut down our allies.”

The little lord opens his mouth to speak, but Lord Bradford cuts him off. “Enough venom, Tomas. In my lands, old stories of our people living in peace with the fae, before the war, have been passed down the generations. I have the preserved diary of an ancestor who lived during those times. This trade Lord Aldrin wants to bring to our people is how my family made their wealth. Forgive me if I won’t murder the man over old prejudices.”

Lord Tomas’ face turns the most satisfying shade of purple and he sits heavily in his chair. “I didn’t know he was a fae lord,” he says, like it matters. I don’t correct them on my true identity. It would make things far too complicated.

Beside me, Keira looks like she is going to combust from the coiled-up tension in her shoulders. “Aldrin fought many wars for the fae Spring Court. He has a unique perspective and vast experience, and only he can tell us what his fae forces will bring to the war.”

All those eyes fall on me. Some scrutinizing, others fearful. I’m too damned sober to deal with this. I need something to put a dampener on my building rage. I spot a jug of wine and goblets on a side table in the room’s corner. With a flick of my wrist, an air wield lifts the jug, pours wine into two cups and brings them to me on a phantom breeze, placing one in front of Keira.

“Ha! Fascinating,” Lord Bradford exclaims, then turns to the little pudgy lord. “Tomas, how could you not want this sort of power on our side on the battlefield?”

“Because I don’t know how long it will remainon our side,” he mutters, and I pin him with a dark look.I swear his lips start to wobble.

“As I was saying,” Edmund grinds out, “we must plan a retreat from Fort Blackrock in case our stand doesn’t go our way. I suggest we fall back to Lord Adalwolf’s Windkeep Stronghold.”

The lord in question is a bear of a man, even by my standards, and his entire bald forehead furrows as he frownsprofusely. “I don’t like the idea of drawing Lord Desmond and the mad king’s army to my lands, but…” Lord Adalwolf’s voice trails off as his fingers tap the table repetitively.

I glance at the map beneath Edmund’s fingers. Windkeep Stronghold is the next defensive point north of our current location. All around it are small villages, open grasslands and bogs. The perfect terrain to harass an army from multiple directions, picking them off bit by bit if they try to bypass the fortress.

“But if we don’t fall back to Windkeep Stronghold, if we pass it, then Lord Desmond will capture it,” Caitlin cuts in. “His army will pillage anything of worth. They will rape and kill innocents as they please. When they are done, they will burn it to the ground. You know he has done this before.”

The color drains from Lord Adalwolf’s face, but Caitlin doesn’t relent.

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