Page 20 of The Fae Queen's Revenge

Though her face burned with shame, she stood tall. “Yes.”

Not that she would share all of it. No matter how much she liked Toren, there were some things he didn’t need to know.

“We should let her freshen up,” Mehl said quickly, his sharp eyes following the same path his husband’s had. No doubt he was beginning to grasp the extent of her foolishness, as well.

Tes kept her chin raised as she shifted around Toren and headed toward the door. Only when she’d nearly passed Mehl did she pause. “How did you both know to come here so soon?”

“I’ve kept a notification spell on the room for years,” Toren confessed.

She nodded. Had she not been so flustered, she would have guessed as much. “After I’ve had a quick wash and found some clean clothes, I’ll meet you in the nursery. I want to hold my son.”

But she couldn’t bear to do so with his father’s blood staining her hands.

As he rounded the corner,Ber shoved his fingers through his hair, doing his best to smooth away the tangles Tes’s fingers had wrought. It was a futile attempt, since the snarls had been sealed with his blood. Had she even realized that she’d gripped the strands with her free hand as she’d come?

In any other circumstance, he would have been content to leave the tangles as trophies, but not today. He was more nervous than he’d been when he’d strode up the central runner in his brother’s dining room to demand a meeting, but as then, he made certain not to show it. He might fail at many things, but acting the haughty prince was never one of them. As such, he stiffened his spine and marched directly down the corridor leading to the king’s private suite.

The receiving room was empty, as was the formal sitting area just beyond. As expected. Ber hurried through them, heading directly for the antechamber situated between the king’s personal sitting room and his dressing room. Sure enough, Ryenil sat as stiffly as a column behind the small desk he used for his most private matters.

“You should be in chains,” the king snapped.

“There was a misunderstanding, Father,” Ber said. He forced concern into his tone. “Are you well? I hope your relaxed state means that the assassin didn’t come for you, too.”

Ryenil’s brows drew together. “What assassin?”

Ber tilted his head to the side and gestured toward his throat. Finally, the king seemed to notice the barely healed gashes on Ber’s skin and the dried blood that only magic would be able to remove from the fabric of his shirt. Still staring, Ryenil leaned forward, bracing his arms on the desk.

“You claim an intruder did this to you?” The king’s eyes narrowed. “I was told a woman’s cry of pleasure was heard from your room, along with your own groans.”

Damned accurate spies. As soon as he made it out of this mess, he needed to discover who was listening so intently near his room.

“I’d dozed off at my desk, only to wake to a knife at my throat.” As usual, he needed a blend of truth and lie. “The woman was weak enough that I was able to force her arm away and slip from the seat. Then I slammed her against the wall, and she screamed from the pounding I was forced to deliver. However, she had magic to use against me. I’d barely managed to get her truly subdued when the knock on the door distracted me enough for her to teleport away.”

Though Ryenil didn’t relax, some of the suspicion faded from his eyes. “That is worrisome. Your room should be too well guarded for such a thing.”

“Precisely why I insisted on checking on you now,” Ber said. “We must ensure your rooms are the most protected place in the palace.”

Ryenil nodded. “I’ll summon the mages at once. As for you, I must insist you return to Lora’s suite. It is more heavily shielded than the smaller room you decided to claim after her death. Irealize you wished to avoid so many reminders of her, but you must learn to tolerate them for the increased safety.”

Ber hung his head, though in truth, he didn’t mind returning to the room he’d so briefly shared with his wife. Guilt, not grief, had driven him from there in the first place. Knowing Tes had been tricked away from her home, he hadn’t felt right staying there without her.

“If you wish it, Father,” Ber said. “I don’t want to mar her memory.”

“I had thought—” The king fell abruptly silent. Then he flicked his fingers at the guards who’d trailed behind Ber and waited without a word until they all filed out. “I had some concerns that you’d made a lover of one of the noble women despite your mourning period.”

“I would never betray my beloved wife,” Ber answered without hesitation.

Though that statement would always ring true, context was everything. And if he had any say in the matter, the king wouldn’t understand the true context until it was too late.

“Mind you, I would be willing to ignore you tupping the occasional servant if your needs overcome you, so long as you enforce her discretion. I had my own wife’s lady’s maid bent over the bed the night after the funeral, butshewouldn’t have dared make a sound.” Ryenil tapped his fingers casually atop his desk as though he hadn’t just uttered something vile. “Noble ladies are different. Take one of them, and they’ll be clamoring to be the next queen.”

Ber fought hard to erase any hint of a mental image brought by the king’s awful words. “Of course, Father. I would never give the nobles false hope of an alliance. I understand how important it is to select the best queen.”

Besides, he’d somehow already managed it.

“Good. Now, summon a healer to the Heir’s Suite and have the servants move your belongings,” the king ordered. “I won’t rest easy until this assassin is found.”

Though Ber was dismissed without further incident, his insides refused to unclench, even after he retreated from Ryenil’s suite entirely. It wasn’t just because of the man’s repugnant statements, though. Living in the rooms close to the king’s would lessen Ber’s freedom to meet with those who might be willing to help end Ryenil’s reign.

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