Page 98 of Sweetling
The princess’s lips pursed. “My father is king consort. He speaks for my mother when she is indisposed. Unfortunately, her health has been poor since last spring.”
“But is this demand sent in her stead? Are these your mother’s words?”
Princess Isolde’s silence spoke far more than her careful answers. Allarion’s disgust curdled in his gut. It was as he suspected from the precise wording of the letter; the king consort had sent his daughter, a youngling, to do business that was both unsanctioned and self-serving.
Allarion’s lip curled. “It seems your father asks for that which isn’t his to have. He is not the crown.”
Her mouth fell open, to argue or reprimand, Allarion didn’t know. She snapped it shut just as quickly, and he watched as her eyes went glassy and her expression brittle.
Standing, Princess Isolde thrust the letter at him, obliging Allarion to retake it.
“I have executed my duty, you have read the king’s request. I anticipate your answer tomorrow.” She bobbed in a small curtsey, staring around Allarion’s shoulder. “I suggest you consider his offer.”
With that, the princess left him.
Allarion sighed, turning the letter about in his fingers.
As his Molly might say, what a fucking mess.
Allarion’s mood improved little throughout the day, but it had less to do with the king consort’s demands and much more with Molly being gone past dark.
When he passed Lady Aislinn on his way down to the stables, he made their excuses.
“Is Miss Molly all right?” she asked, her fair brows knitted with concern.
“She is well—just visiting family. I go to fetch her now.”
The heiress nodded, gaze straying to the door that led into the dining hall.
“Your absence wouldn’t have anything to do with our special guest, would it?”
Allarion shook his head. “The princess is merely the messenger. I wouldn’t punish anyone for that, especially not a girl.”
Lady Aislinn stepped closer. “I don’t mean to pry, but is this business between you something my father should know about?”
“The king asks for what you and your father already enjoy—fealty from me and the otherly folk. However, his methods are perhaps more heavy-handed.”
“Ah. I see.” A troubled look overcame her golden face. “The queen hasn’t mentioned requiring such a thing in her letters. I don’t presume to know all her thoughts, of course, but I’d assume she’d mention it if it was on her mind.”
“I don’t believe this comes from the queen, my lady.”
Her brows arched in understanding. Looking at the entrance to the dining hall again, the heiress sighed. “Poor Isolde. She’s caught in the middle between them.”
Allarion hadn’t poked his nose into the business of human politics terribly much in his time in the Darrowlands—yet, it was hard not to hear of how little love was lost between Queen Ygraine and her consort. Distant cousins from two feuding branches of the Eirean royal family, their union had ended years of bloody warfare between the sides that saw dozens of noble houses decimated. The kingdom emerged smaller, weaker, and divided.
It was why the orc clans had begun moving further into the western foothills and the Pyrrossi advancing from the south. Perhaps the fae too might have made a play for more territory, had Amaranthe’s attention not been solely focused on herself.
The princess stood to inherit a multitude of problems with few allies, even from within her own family. If Allarion was charitable, perhaps the king sought to shore up alliances for his young daughter and heir. However, Allarion had lived far longer than the king and his whole family line. Many human royals had come and gone, too many for him to keep count. What they did, they did for their own interests.
The thought of King Marius and his possible motives only brought Allarion’s thoughts back to Brom Dunne. It seemed, despite miles of distance and fathoms of difference, the men weren’t so unalike.
“I will speak with you tomorrow, after I have met with the princess,” Allarion told Lady Aislinn. Bowing, he took his leave. “Please excuse me while I fetch my bride.”
“Of course. Good evening, Allarion.”
He left the heiress, descending through the castle and out the main steps. Bellarand awaited him at the bottom, and Allarion lost no time swinging himself up onto the unicorn’s back.
Off to get the human?
