Page 27 of The Fae Kings' Bargain

“The banners they carry proclaim such, Your Majesty,” Feref said to Mehl.

Toren pushed his chair back, forcing Mehl to remove his hand quickly. While Toren normally would have apologized, he couldn’t bring forth the words. “Who?” he asked instead. “Who is part of this contingent?”

Understanding filled Feref’s gaze. “No one the guards recognized, Sire.”

It wasn’t Ber, then. Toren’s tension eased a notch. “Have formal court gear brought to the antechamber, please.”

“Already done,” Feref replied.

Whether a messenger or more official envoy had arrived, Toren would be prepared to greet them properly. The less weakness he showed, the better. There was only one possible problem—Ria. It would be best to prevent word getting back to his brother that Toren had formed a breeding alliance. If she returned to the castle with a trail of servants carrying her belongings to the family wing, there would be no hiding it.

Mehl caught his eye. “What about…?”

Toren nodded, then stood. “Forgive me, honored guests, but as you can see, we have pressing business. We will continue this discussion later. If you will accompany us to the antechamber, Feref?”

Neither Toren nor Mehl waited to see if their advisors would complain. He and his husband had already reached Feref before their murmured words of acceptance reached his ears. In truth, the advisors were probably relieved to be left to gossip about this newest arrival and what it might mean. They had to have similar fears about the contingent from Centoi.

Once they were well away from others, Toren slowed, catching Feref’s attention. “See that Ria’s return goes unnoticed, and place her in a less conspicuous room until our visitors are gone.”

At his side, Mehl let out a relieved sigh. “That was my thought, as well.”

“Once I have assisted you, I will ensure it is done, Your Majesties,” Feref said.

“No,” Toren insisted. “Mehl and I can don our own robes. Assist Ria.”

Feref’s brows twitched, a sure sign he was repressing a frown, but he’d been with Toren too long to argue. “I will do so at once.”

As their chamberlain bowed once and then hurried away, Toren picked up his pace. Free of distraction, his thoughts turned back to the group from Centoi. His energy surged with his anger and worry, but Mehl slipped his fingers through Toren’s, a silent symbol of comfort and support. Toren squeezed his husband’s hand and offered him a smile, if a tense one.

Together, they would never let his brother prevail.

* * *

Ria lingeredbeside the window after the group passed, uncertain what to do next. Part of her wanted to hide, and another part urged her to rush back to the palace to offer her support. But to what purpose? She might be the Duchess of Nevial in title, but she had no place in court. No right to stand beside Toren and Mehl. It wasn’t as though she had knowledge that would be of benefit.

One of the guards stepped to her side. “The packing down here might take some time to complete, my lady. If you prefer, we can accompany the servants carrying your personal belongings from upstairs to the palace.”

It seemed a reasonable suggestion, so she nodded. “I’ve already given directions to those working down here, so I suppose there is no reason for me to linger.”

A handful of servants carried crates down the stairs, setting the boxes beside the front door before returning upstairs for more. By the time they were finished, there was a greater stack than Ria had anticipated. Had she packed so much in the dark hours before dawn? Perhaps they had added a few more things at their own discretion.

The door opened, and a servant wearing the fanciest of palace livery entered. He bowed to Ria. “Feref sent me, my lady. I am to ensure you return as subtly as possible. He has been directed by the High King to keep you from the envoy’s notice.”

She drew back in surprise. “How?”

“You’re to arrive without escort, though a guard or two should trail you for safety’s sake. Your belongings will be brought slowly and without fanfare.” The servant skimmed her body with a critical eye. “If you might have plainer clothing…?”

There was logic to request, however unusual. Toren wanted her to return largely alone after assigning her so many guards on the way out? He had to be concerned about the Centoi learning of their contract for him to change his directions so abruptly. Well, if he wanted subtle, she was well-prepared for that.

“My simple day dress should still be in the dressing room, if it hasn’t been packed.”

Ria hurried across the workroom to the door closest to the storage area. Just that morning, she’d changed into the court garb she now wore, and she hadn’t thought to direct anyone into the usually empty room. Thankfully, she found her dress still there. It seemed none of the servants down here had taken the liberty to work outside the areas they’d been assigned.

She slipped out of her court gown and hung it carefully on its hanger. Her fingers sank into the soft, worn fabric of the blue day dress she’d left folded on a bench. So familiar and yet so strange after a day spent wearing the finest silk. Her old dress, though…it was a different kind of soft, one born of years of use. The familiarity eased some of Ria’s tension as she donned the gown.

Quickly, she unwound the jeweled strands from her hair and took out the pins holding the mass up. Then she braided her hair into a simple plait before studying her reflection in the mirror. Good enough. If she grabbed her basket—minus any hint of theelek terinor the royal green dye it had been packed with—she would look like any commoner moving around the outer edges of the palace on her business.

The disguise was a mixed blessing. As she entered the main gates to the palace, Ria hesitated before heading toward the main doors where she’d exited. No matter her clothing, she was a duchess now, and the nobility rarely if ever used the other entrances. But the guard at those doors directed her firmly to the servants’ entrance in the very back, not even the middle gates where she’d entered with her father the night before. Was it because of her clothing?

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