Page 153 of The Fae Kings' Bargain

Total chaos.

Near the dais holding the High Table, Mehl spotted Duke Hesslefyn at the head of one of the closest tables, as befitted his rank. He kept his head carefully bowed, and in profile, his expression seemed properly neutral. Ah, but his posture was so tense that a servant could balance a plate on his shoulder, and his hands were fisted in his lap. The duke must suspect that he was in trouble.

Mehl and Toren stepped onto the dais, but they didn’t circle the table to take their seats. Instead, they spun to face the nobles, who froze into their awkward positions as though they’d been enchanted into statues.Someone should paint this unprecedented scene,Mehl thought irreverently before he forced his attention back to the task at hand. He needed to keep an eye on the families of the accused.

“Resume your seats if you’re not there already,” Toren snapped, and the bite to his tone had the kneeling courtiers scurrying to obey. “And for the sake of the gods, get your faces out of your food.”

The nobles lifted their heads, a few subtly wiping away traces of cream. Not the Hesslefyn family, of course. They straightened gracefully, and the expressions they turned toward the High Table were a lesson in noble politeness. Mehl noted the duke’s continued tension, but the other members of their House appeared at ease.

As was Baron Ogewn, though his youngest daughter had her napkin clenched in her fist. One table down, Lord Eorge sat pale and frozen beside his mother, Countess Poberie. Mehl suspected that neither parent knew of their children’s perfidy, yet they would suffer all the same. What had Duke Hesslefyn—and ultimately King Ryenil—promised to turn these young nobles to treason? Even money and power were useless when stability failed.

“A grievous plot has been uncovered this day,” Toren began coldly, and for the first time since they’d done the inheritance spell, Mehl sensed a pulse of power from him. “The healer Vesset was caught with foul poisons, ones that have wrought much harm. Some of you witnessed the foiled attack outside the throne room before the healer’s initial trial was to be held.”

Tension froze the room so thoroughly that not even whispers broke out at that.

“A servant and a mage were apprehended and have identified their co-conspirators in their treason.” At Toren’s words, guards began to march down the row of tables, drawing gasps and flinches. Somewhat normal, even amongst the innocent. “Everyone in this room has sworn their loyalty to Llyalia and to the Eyamiri blood that rules it. Even so, some of you have betrayed your vows and chosen the path of treachery.”

Not even fear could stop the whispers at that, and as the guards passed, some of the nobles let out little whimpers. But there was a difference in the body language of a person afraid of being falsely accused and a true traitor who well knew their own crimes. Such as Duke Hesslefyn’s stone-tight posture and wide eyes. Or the tears slipping silently down Miss Ogewn’s unnaturally pale cheeks.

Or Lord Eorge’s shaking hand, which knocked over his wine glass rather than gripped it.

As if in slow motion, Countess Poberie turned an aghast look from the wine pooling red across the tablecloth to her son’s face, and horror crept across her expression just as two guards came to a halt behind his seat. “What have you done?” she cried.

Lord Eorge merely shook his head.

When two more guards halted behind Baron Ogwen and his daughter, the baron startled. “Ah, you must be mistaken. I…”

At the sight of his daughter’s face, his mouth snapped shut.

But it was the circle of guards who halted at attention behind and around Duke Hesslefyn that returned the room to deathly silence. Mehl watched his family the most carefully, for any insight he could gain about the powerful House would be of benefit. And of the seven, not counting the duke, two exhibited the nervous tension of the guilty—Lord Welen, firstborn son and heir, and Lady Lene, the duchess.

To Mehl’s surprise, Lady Gartren bore the same expression of shock as her other siblings. He’d expected her involvement based on her nasty attitude toward Ria, but unless she hid it well, that didn’t appear to be the case. Indeed, as the entire court watched, fury flashed in her eyes, and she glared at her parents.

“There must be a misunderstanding,” she said tightly. “For my father would not allow our noble House to be blighted by such a terrible stain.”

“This latest insult was one too many,” Lady Lene blurted out. “To pass you and your sister over for some common—”

The duchess pressed her lips together before she could finish that thought, but it was too late. Mehl’s anger surged at the insult she’d been about to deliver. Still, he kept it in check.

Toren, however…

Mehl sent a quick prayer of thanks that his husband’s energy levels hadn’t fully recovered, because if it had, the fury-driven wave of power would have caused true harm.

“You dare to speak so of my wife?” Toren’s glare shot across the room like an ice-tipped arrow. “She is a hard-working and loyal citizen of this kingdom, more worthy than those of you who fail to do your jobs in the name of chasing glory. Tell me, what great harm has the royal House dealt to you, Duchess? We’ve enacted no harsh taxes and demanded no tribute. There are many daughters here whom we did not wed, and that is no slight. If you’ve chosen treason, it is for one reason alone. Power. And you haven’t even realized that it would eat you if you gained it.”

There was a starkness to those final words that twisted Mehl’s heart, but he knew it wouldn’t make an impact on most of the courtiers seated below. In truth, even he wouldn’t have understood before he’d become king. The crowns and elaborate clothes, the deference and ceremony—all were a velvet-lined trap, as cleverly devised as the puzzle box he’d received from Ber.

Those who most wanted in would be caught the hardest.

* * *

As Toren scannedthe nobles sitting so still in their seats, he struggled to control the anger currently making a shaky mess of his insides. He’d spent several centuries watching over these people, guiding and ruling in equal measure, and he’d trained to do so for many centuries before that. But until this moment, he’d never been so tempted to turn around and walk away.

What was the value in serving faithfully, giving up much of his autonomy and freedom to protect those who would betray him? He would have met a sooner but clearer end as a tyrant who’d done whatever he wished. In such a case, he would have understood the nobles’ actions, even. But turning traitor for power’s sake alone…the pain of it cut deeper than he’d expected.

Ah, but youdiddo what you wished,his inner voice chided him.

Toren released a sigh only Mehl would hear. No matter where his anger carried him in the moment, he couldn’t deny that hehaddone exactly what he’d wanted—and that was to care for his people. It wasn’t his fault that these few nobles were easily corrupted, and he wouldn’t wish to mimic a single one of them in their perfidy. Though betrayal was inevitable, it didn’t have to change him.

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