Page 24 of The Fae Kings' Bargain

Ria Orindl, Duchess of Nevial.

She dropped into her seat, her eyes fixed on the ink as it dried.

Life was about to be anything but boring.

Chapter11

Not Quite Family

Satisfaction burned in Mehl’s blood despite the niggling voice that called for a deeper, more lasting connection with Ria. However briefly, she was theirs. Too bad they couldn’t take her to their room right now and claim her again. Toren might have hinted that he would ignore their advisors, but Mehl knew his husband would never neglect his duty. They might not have an official council like some countries, but their advisors performed essential tasks for the kingdom.

“Shall we leave for luncheon?” Mehl asked.

Ria stood uncertainly beside the desk, her gaze slipping back and forth between them, but Toren chuckled as he rose from his chair. “It might be wise to change out of our court clothes first, love. For more reasons than one.”

Mehl glanced down out of reflex, only to grimace at the wrinkled state of his formal robe. “I confess I entirely forgot what I was wearing. I was too pleased after the creation of these wrinkles.”

The papers bobbled in the poor scribe’s hands, almost causing him to drop the entire pile. Ria reached out to steady them, and the red-faced man gave her a grateful smile. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

Ever so slightly, she flinched, though Mehl didn’t think the other two noticed. Toren’s attention was on the scribe, who was too busy trying to hide his embarrassment to heed Ria. But Mehl understood that quiet little twitch very well, indeed, and not only because he’d learned to read others when he’d been a bodyguard.

He’d stifled his fair share of those reactions to his new title himself.

“Iyeth,” Toren began, catching the scribe’s attention. “Perhaps you should return to your office to copy and catalog the contracts. And if you could draft a formal announcement about the breeding contract for me to peruse later, I would be most grateful.”

Ah, yes. Iyeth. Mehl rarely worked with the scribes, but his husband knew them all by name. Not for the first time, he was grateful to be merely king and consort. He oversaw the household and the palace guard, but he didn’t have to tend to the minutiae of running the kingdom, not at the level Toren did.

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Iyeth bowed toward Toren and then Mehl before inclining his head respectfully at Ria. “If you will excuse me.”

Toren flicked his hand, and the scribe fled without waiting for a verbal acknowledgement from Mehl or Ria. She didn’t notice, and Mehl didn’t care. The constant obeisance was a willing price he paid to have Toren. He wasn’t going to complain over the occasional lack.

“Come,” Toren said. “We should go straighten up before I change my mind about eating luncheon with the advisors.”

Ria stepped around her chair but halted before reaching Mehl’s side. “What about me?”

A good question. Even had her new status been announced at court, her presence would not be expected during a meal where important information might be discussed. He or Toren might choose to break that unspoken rule by inviting her, but it would be an unkindness. A tailor’s daughter—now the tailor herself, he supposed—would hardly be trained in such formal etiquette. Mehl had only known the rules because of the long hours spent guarding Toren.

Would she be relieved or offended to be excluded?

“If you’ll walk with us, I can show you to the suite I had Feref prepare,” Mehl said. “I assume you will wish to become acquainted with your new rooms?”

Her shoulders lowered, and she smiled. “Yes. Very much so, thank you.”

“We should hurry before Iyeth returns to blush at us again,” Toren quipped, and Mehl’s heart lightened at the teasing lilt to his husband’s voice. It had been too long since Toren’s guard had dropped enough to jest.

As they traversed the private hallways leading to the family wing, a sense of contentment hit him. The three of them together was simply…right. He suspected they agreed. A companionable silence had settled between them, and when Mehl looked at Toren to his left or Ria to his right, both wore easy, satisfied expressions. Only when they neared their rooms did he notice Ria tensing. Her steps slowed, and she cast him an uncertain look.

“Did you forget to stop at my room?” Ria asked. “We’re almost to yours, if I’m remembering well enough from last night.”

“You’ll be beside Toren.” Mehl halted at her door and tapped his finger against the wood. “This suite is for you. I’m technically in the consort’s chambers on his other side, but I rarely use them for anything but storage.”

Ria took a step back. “A breeding contract doesn’t make me family. This seems…”

A scandalized Feref had given the same protest, but as then, Mehl cared nothing for useless traditions. “Convenient? I’m certain neither I nor Toren wish to go searching for your room, and I doubt you’ll want to risk stumbling into some courtier in the middle of the night returning to yours.”

“I don’t.” She nibbled on her lower lip. “Still…”

“Your rooms will be here,” Toren said. “You will notify Feref if you need anything.”

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