Page 124 of The Fae Kings' Bargain

The door opened, and Mehl strode through, his expression a storm of frustration. “No sign,” he said as he halted on the other side of the desk.

Toren sighed. “I would love to believe he had no intention of entering the palace at all, but I’m not that much of a fool. If I had to guess, I would say he’s waiting for dinner or for morning court tomorrow. Ber always has loved to make a grand entrance.”

“Should we have Ria and Ryssa eat in their rooms?” Mehl asked, frowning.

He nearly snapped out a harshyesat the question. Ria and their child should be safe, far from Ber’s machinations. But the words caught in Toren’s throat. Not only would Ria hate it, but there was no guarantee it would really be safer. If Ber predicted that move, he might go after her in her rooms the way Tes had.

“No,” Toren decided. “Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”

Abandoning the blank page on his desk, Toren stood.

It was time to prepare for dinner.

* * *

Although there’d beenno sign of Ber, Mehl couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling humming through his blood as he sat down beside Toren at the table. Ria took her seat on Toren’s other side, Ryssa beside her, and the nobles began to file in to claim their usual places. It was a familiar routine, but nothing felt normal this night. Not when he had to examine every single person in the room for signs of treachery.

The reason for Mehl’s turmoil appeared in the open door as soon as the last noble sat. There was a brief swell of sound as hissed exclamations and startled whispers swept around the room, but in the subsequent silence, Ber strode through, Sir Macoe at his side. Fury stiffened Mehl’s spine. Had the captain found a way to betray them despite his oaths? The man gripped the hilt of his sword, but was it in protection or in threat?

Toren settled his hand on Mehl’s forearm.“I told Macoe to bring him in if he showed himself. I want this finished.”

Relief eased his anger, but it barely touched the tension zinging through Mehl like a blast of his husband’s energy. He hadn’t seen the treacherous prince since well before wedding Toren and becoming king, but the sly smirk on Ber’s face was much the same. Before, the prince had sent his challenge for the throne in a letter. What would he do now that he was here?

With the courtiers so silent, Ber’s footsteps cracked loudly against the marble as he marched toward the dais. His long, dark hair whipped around his royal green cloak as he marched between the rows of long tables on his way to the High Table. As he passed, the nobles did their best to duck forward, lest they make contact with so much as a strand of his hair.

If he had an ally, it wasn’t readily apparent.

Naturally, Ber had dressed as a prince whohadn’tbeen exiled—beneath his cloak, he wore a tunic and pants in a lighter shade of royal green. He’d even donned a thin circlet over his brow as though he still had the right. Mehl’s hands clenched into fists at the slight, but Toren gave his arm a warning squeeze.

Not that Mehl was deceived into thinking Toren was unaffected. His husband was moments away from losing grasp on his energy. Out of reflex, Mehl opened a link and let some of the power pass through him, but Toren surprised him by holding some of it back. Was he planning to blast his brother before the terms of the inheritance challenge were met?

When Ber finally came to a halt a couple of paces from the dais, he sketched a mocking bow. Then he straightened without leave to do so, his gaze direct on Toren. Mehl thought he heard a soft gasp from Ria, and he could guess why. Toren and Ber weren’t identical, but they looked very similar. Except where Toren was light, his brother was dark—hair, eyes, disposition. If the gods had designed the perfect foil, it would be Ber.

Perhaps they had.

“You are bold to break the terms of your exile,” Toren said, his voice cold enough to preserve their dinner for the next generation. “And bolder still to abandon the Centoi contingent with which you entered our borders. I could have ordered you executed for your temerity at any time.”

Ber’s smile held derision, but his eyes were unreadable. “Showing care for me, brother? I am honored.”

“You know it is not care.”

“Very well. I do know.” The prince inclined his head. “As for why I didn’t accompany the Centoi…this has nothing to do with them. I did not want our business to be confused with theirs.”

Toren barked out a laugh. “You’re now Ryenil’s heir. I believe they are inextricably entwined at this point. What you do affects the Centoi.”

The muscle in Ber’s jaw twitched. Was it annoyance? Anger? Mehl couldn’t fathom that the prince actually cared what happened to anyone in Centoi. He’d long ago shown that he thought of no one but himself.

“They certainlywillbe entwined if I win our challenge.” Ber’s smirk returned. “Why do you think I have come?”

Toren’s hand twitched atop his arm, but Mehl detected no hint of upset on his husband’s face. “A good question, since you’re supposed to be grieving your tragically lost wife,” Toren said sharply.

There were enough indrawn breaths from the courtiers that Mehl couldn’t tell if Ryssa had been among them. He didn’t dare look at her, lest she draw Ber’s notice. She’d reinforced her glamour, but there was no guarantee he wouldn’t guess her true identity.

Above all, she needed to remain silent—and that would be understandably difficult to do.

* * *

Ria was afraid to breathe,much less move, but beneath the table, she gripped Ryssa’s wrist in a gentle but firm hold. A reminder, really. Whatever that wretched prince planned to say, it would be difficult for the princess to avoid a counter. How could anyone expect her to be quiet in the face of the man who’d betrayed her so completely?

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