Page 46 of Poisoned Kingdom
Reynard
Iswore under my breath for the hundredth time. How long had I been sitting here, unable to think of anything except the scent of that woman’s hair? The stack of unread paperwork on my desk was a testament to my distraction, and that was just this morning’s reports and petitions. The pile my assistant had slammed down threatened to bury me as it teetered on the edge, but I found it impossible to care. I wished I were more like Orm. My brother could do this with a smile on his face, the bureaucracy calming to his savage heart.
I could still feel her, her scent lingering on my fingertips driving me insane, but I couldn’t let it affect me. That Vipercould be my salvation if I trusted her enough to reveal that her poison was slowly killing me.
‘Don’t give yourself false hope,’ I muttered once again, but the hope awakened this morning refused to die. Once Riordan had confirmed she was the same woman who had come to warn the mages, I went to talk to her, only to see my fucking guard manhandling her.
Maybe I should go to the garrison?
A few rounds sparring with that arsehole might bring me peace of mind.
My grip tightened on my quill and the delicate tool snapped, staining my hand with ink. This loss of control wasn’t helpful, so with a deep breath, I wiped the stain, pushing aside the ruined document, and grabbed another file.
The page in front of me was a merchant’s petition, the Dwarven League asking for reduced taxes on their precious metals. I’d rejected it already, but the stubborn bastards wouldn’t give up and sent me at least one petition a week.
Do they think I’ll sign one by mistake, or are they trying to wear me down?
Just as I’d expected, since I’d returned half-blind, many took it as a sign of weakness. Meetings with the Royal Council had become an endless battle, the old families fiercely opposing my reforms, and various factions had flooded me with demands, as if I were more susceptible to falling for their nonsense now that I’d been injured.
I lost an eye, for fuck’s sake, not half my brain.
Only my army remained loyal, showing me steadfast support, but they long ago learned that a man’s value was more than the sum of his body parts.
I glanced briefly at the stained-glass window overlooking the river, my guest once again occupying my mind, confounding me with her attitude.
Why did she do that?I wondered. Roksana’s promise to fight me if I overstepped had impressed me, but she’d done more than trust me. I’d felt her reaction, seen the blush of desire.
And I almost gave in, forgetting who she was and what she had done. Calling her Sanika was a mistake, but her reflection, a ray of light surrounded by the darkness of my presence threatening to consume her, was just that—the hope before dawn.
Gods, what am I thinking?
Would it have been different if we’d met in better circumstances? Would we still be denying this maddeningly irresistible desire that filled the air with the tension of an approaching storm?
‘Will I be able to let you go?’ I muttered, knowing this couldn’t carry on.
Fascinating as she was, and despite her reasons, Roksana had caused the unthinkable and paved the way for Dagome’s enemies to ramp up their demands. After the war, I’d promised myself I’d not use brute force to rule my country, but because of her, I might not be able to keep that vow.
But today . . . Today was madness.
I’d only wanted to test if the scent that drove me crazy the other night was still there. The servants had done a good job bathing her, but it hadn’t changed a thing, and as soon as my nose touched her skin, I’d lost myself in her.
The documents stacked in front of me chose that moment to wobble, spilling over my desk and bringing me back to reality. I had more important issues to deal with than the woman sleeping under my roof.
I grabbed the morning papers, determined to read through them even if it took all night.
Annoyingly, the next reports weren’t critical either. They were about quarrelling nobles that the chancellor could deal with, and two related to the mages that I put aside for Riordan. Then Icame across an unmarked envelope slipped between the official letters.
Your Majesty,
The Observers you stationed on the border have noticed increased movement between our kingdom and the Care’etavos Empire. Two days ago, a wagon became bogged down on a muddy road. Its axles were so deep that it took several horses to pull it out. The mage working with us became ill upon getting close and confirmed it was srebrec. We will track this shipment wherever it goes and keep you informed.
Additionally, a month ago, our spies noticed bulwark construction on the Tivalaran border. I’ll update you as soon as we receive more information.
The letter was unsigned, but I easily recognised Arto’s style of writing. If anyone could gather intel on Tivala, it was my sergeant-turned-spy, even if his disguise was one of a disgruntled former soldier who drank and fornicated his way around Dagome. Roksana thought she’d disclosed new information by telling the mages about the illegal srebrec trade, but I already knew about Mlot’s little side business. I just hadn’t known he was so callously sacrificing his people for it.
However, the bulwarks on the border of Tivalaran were a surprise. I’d have to investigate those sooner rather than later.
‘I hope that old fool isn’t building a wall,’ I muttered, reaching for a new quill and drafting orders to send more sentinels to the region to observe their movements.
