Page 144 of The Fae Kings' Bargain

Gentleness and love blended with resolve in his gaze. “Our babe is of Eyamiri blood, so it shouldn’t cause harm. I’ve always found the deep magics of our kingdom to be comforting, even when my control is threatened. But I meant my earlier words. Do not hesitate to bring an end to this if you feel any discomfort at all.”

Instinct told her he was correct, but it was a risk. Yet what choice did they have? Finding a way to remove Ber from succession was paramount, though not perfect. Until knowledge of the change was widespread, there would still be danger, but even if the worst happened to her personally, Llyalia wouldn’t fall to dark deception. It was time she trusted that she was here in this moment for a reason, and that reason wasn’t only in her womb.

Ria sliced the blade across her flesh and hissed at the pain that shrieked through her nerves. Carefully, she held her arm over the sunburst and let her blood drip atop Toren’s. There wasn’t much, not in comparison to the amount of pain the wound caused, but she’d always hated this type of injury the most. She could work for hours under the dull, constant ache of a battering. Sharp pain was much harder to block.

After a few drops, Ria pulled her arm back and studied the wound. Thinner than she’d feared, and already scabbing up nicely. Still, Toren frowned at the scratch before turning his displeasure to Mehl as he added his blood. Despite everything, she smiled. Their injuries seemed to bother Toren more than his own did.

Mehl didn’t sheath his knife. “Try not to draw me in so deeply that I can’t maintain guard.”

“I’ll do my best,” Toren said. “But I suspect you should guard against more than the physical. Don’t let us go too deep.”

Their husband merely nodded.

Toren took her hand in his, and when he closed his eyes, she followed suit. She didn’t want to stare down at the splattered blood, for it only reminded her of the burning pain in her forearm. No distractions. Hadn’t she learned the trick of ignoring those beneath her father’s brutal hand? He had broken her skin more than once with one of his blows and then commanded her to work.

As then, Ria acknowledged the pain before pushing it to a distant corner of her mind. The burning ache was like an impatient client, shifting and huffing over to the side while she helped someone else. It would be waiting for her when she was done, but wait it must. The job at hand took precedence.

Abruptly, the link Toren was forming through their blood snapped to life, and Ria sucked in her breath at the secret realm unfolding before her. Invisible to the naked eye, but so real—and vast. How powerful must the first royal family have been to have created something like this? It would require nothing less than the overflowing energy Toren forever battled against, and no doubt more than one working.

His mind nudged hers.“Follow me. I’ll search for the magical base for the laws in question.”

Astounding. It was all she could think as they ebbed and flowed through spells and energy woven by a master hand, only Mehl their steady anchor. She couldn’t begin to understand how Toren found his way through the madness. They slipped through the flow faster than she could process what any of it was.

If it were left to her, they would be hopelessly lost.

Finally, Toren seemed to find what he was looking for, and the jumble of magic clarified more fully to her inner sight. Though she wasn’t physically enmeshed with the spells, Ria had to resist the urge to stretch out her hand to touch the glowing lines of power. But how could she tell what any of them meant?

“Look through me,”Toren sent.

She merged more fully with him, letting go of herself a little to see what he did. Then she gasped. Words-but-not were threaded through those lines of power, and she had the sense that touching one would send the connected law straight into her mind. Was that what had to be altered, then? The content of those word-thoughts?

Mehl’s voice stirred through their minds.“What does it mean?”

“Can you not read it through me?”Toren asked.

“No,”Mehl replied.

Ria huffed.“Not quite. I’d have to connect to the thread.”

Toren went quiet for a moment.“This is important. The inheritance laws underpin much, and the challenge is woven through too tightly to remove. We’ll have to alter it. And that…that will rest with you, Ria.”

A wave of trepidation nearly pulled her from the link, but the warm, silent support of her husbands kept her firm. There was no turning back now. Hadn’t she always wanted to move her alteration beyond fabric? This was the ultimate chance, if only she could manage it.

“But what should I change?”

She felt the stillness of his contemplation before he spoke.“The High King or High Queen must create an official line of succession. A proclamation. Written, sealed, and kept in a special vault until their death. When properly bound into the kingdom’s magic, the proclamation is inviolate.”

“The heir would be secret?”Mehl asked, worry in his tone.

“Only if the monarch wishes,”Toren answered.“After all that’s happened with Ber, I’ll certainly not reveal which of my cousins I’ll choose to inherit in the unfortunate event I outlive all of my own children.”

The change would be a solid solution, but something bothered Ria about it all the same. Maybe it was the potential for abuse. What if someone on the list turned out to be treacherous? Of course, it was impossible to guard against that fully, but if a likely candidate decided to take their chances with an assassination, what then?

“There is much that can be bound into the proclamation,” Toren assured her.

But as she prepared for the greatest alteration of her life, the worry refused to be shuffled to the corner of her mind.

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