Page 123 of The Fae Kings' Bargain

“Shall we go rest, dearest cousin?” the princess asked softly. “I would suggest luncheon, but I doubt I could eat after all the food at your reception. Unless you’re hungry?”

Ria should have been, since they’d barely touched anything while mingling with the nobles, but this meeting had soured her stomach. Probably Ryssa’s, too. “A rest sounds nice. I don’t think I could sleep, though. Would you like to join me in my sitting room for embroidery?”

“Whatever you wish, Your Highness,” Ryssa said.

Ah, she’d forgotten that the other woman was supposed to be her lady’s companion, not simply a friend. That meant she would have to follow along with whatever Ria planned. Some might consider that position an honor, but in truth, it sounded terrible. With a cruel lady, the companion would surely be miserable.

She would have to get the princess’s true opinion once they’d left court.

Toren and Mehl stood, and the gathered nobles sank to their knees. Even Ryssa. But as the princess had instructed, Ria curtsied instead. Apparently, even the kings’ betrothed couldn’t simply stand there and watch them leave, but the same amount of deference wasn’t required. Nor were guests required to give such deep obeisance, though that varied based on rank. Had Ryssa’s identity been known, she could have gotten away with a curtsy, too.

There was far too much to learn. And if Ria was ignorant of such basic court traditions and rules, why had she thought she should mess with one of the kingdom’s fundamental laws? Abandoning that idea would clearly be for the best.

As soon as the kings had gone, Ria and Ryssa linked arms and slipped through the crowd as quietly as they could. Fortunately, there were far fewer courtiers present for this, only those few who’d been lingering close enough to hear of the envoy’s arrival. She and Ryssa only had to pause once to exchange pleasantries before they made it away from the nobles.

But Ria waited until they had entered her sitting room to speak openly. “You don’treallyhave to stay for embroidery. I’m sure you must be upset, and it’s not as though you’re a true lady’s maid in the traditional sense.”

“Oh, but I am.” Ryssa dropped onto her usual seat and grabbed her embroidery basket from the side table. But instead of opening the lid, her fingers squeezed tight around the rim until Ria worried the thin wood would snap. “Until I find a way to reclaim my kingdom, I have nothing but that. It has long been clear that my father is too far gone in his bitterness to care about anyone. I’m sure he cried tears of joy over my body, though others would count them as sorrow.”

Ria frowned. “According to Toren, the king doted on you.”

“Because he treated me like his jewel?” Ryssa snorted. “That name wasn’t a kindness. It was a reminder. I was to be nothing but what he shaped me, a valuable bauble to be affixed to my future husband’s crown. He did his best to control every moment of my life. But at my supposed death, he gained the only thing he really wanted. Someone besides me as his heir.”

The matter-of-fact tone brought a lump to Ria’s throat. Maybe there was a little bitterness to the princess’s words, but simple acceptance outweighed it more than it should. But Ria understood better than many would. She’d suffered at her own father’s hand, and she’d struggled for years not to let it define her.

“What are you going to do?” Ria asked.

A hard glint entered the princess’s eyes. “Right now? I’m going to sit here as your companion, take out my embroidery, and stab the only thing I can: Ber’s face on this youthful folly of a tapestry. And hope one or both of the kings kill him while he’s here.”

Ria blinked. “That’swhy you expended magic to retrieve your needlework?”

“A pregnant woman needs to have some form of catharsis when she can’t stab the useless, treacherous, lying piece-of-slime father of her baby,” Ryssa snapped.

Perhaps it was…best not to argue. Ria sat and pulled out her own embroidery, a bit of trim for her dress. But it was difficult to keep her attention on her own work as the princess threaded her needle with blood-red string and began to jab and tug until wound-like lines scarred the delicately embroidered face already on the fabric.

Whatever Ber had planned, it had better not involve his estranged wife—for his own sake, anyway. If not for the child the princess carried, Ria would have slipped her a knife and then cheered her on.

Instead, she and Ryssa could only sit there and wait.

Chapter56

Uninvited

Toren had been at his desk for hours, and he still hadn’t decided what to write. He’d drafted a few replies to Ryenil’s message, of course, but none of them had been right. What did one say after such a callous missive? The memory of the Centoi king’s casual dismissal of his daughter’s death sparked Toren’s energy to dangerous levels each time he ran through the scenario again.

At this point, even the bodyguards stationed beside the door looked alarmed at his heightened power.

With a deep breath in and then out, Toren put a lock on the latest surge of energy. He needed to think rationally about this. If his emotions were in charge, he would send a note formally severing their alliance with Centoi, along with a private letter of rebuke. Unfortunately, that might not serve their people best. There was significant trade between the two, so a hasty break would cause chaos and hardship to those who didn’t deserve it.

Toren’s mother might have been the High Queen, but it had been his father who’d taught him about the common people. King Nemin had hailed from a modest and minor noble house, and as such, his perspective had been quite different. Each time he’d taken Toren to see his grandparents on their estate in the west, they’d traveled quietly, and Nemin had made a point of stopping in a variety of average villages. Eventually, they’d explored the other regions the same way at Toren’s request.

He was very aware that the people who would be most affected weren’t merely columns on a report.

Though Toren did his best to keep poverty at a minimum, no small number of families might be left destitute from a major disruption. Like ore. Being more mountainous, Centoi traded a great deal of it, and blacksmiths in nearly every village in Llyalia replied upon a steady supply. Not to mention the farmers who sent grain to Centoi—or flax to the weavers, who sold much of their linen to, of course, Centoi. And that was only a small sample of industries that would be harmed.

Theydidtrade with other kingdoms, but it would take time to account for such a shift in volume. New agreements would need to be formed. New routes created and set. So no matter how much Toren wanted to tell King Ryenil to take a leap from his highest tower, he couldn’t. At least not yet. No amount of anger or pride would be worth so much suffering.

He would take his time easing free of these ties.

---