Page 39 of The Fae Kings' Bargain

The servants lined up along the back wall kept their expressions impassive, but Mehl didn’t miss the quick glances at Ria, sometimes only the slightest movement of their eyes. Not even the cook at the head of the line managed to resist. Only one remained statue-still, a young man he’d never seen in this post before.

Hadn’t he? There was something familiar about the lad. Mehl had spent most of his life amongst the soldiers, so he didn’t know the palace servants as well as Toren did. Even so, having taken on a great deal of the palace management, Mehl could identify most regardless of whether he could name them. He should know the man’s usual task.

Anything unusual bore watching.

Once they reached their seats, Ria faltered, but before Mehl could invite her to sit at his side, Toren gestured to his left. “You will be seated beside me, Lady Ria.”

It was a pointed, powerful show of favor. No other noble had been invited to the High Table tonight, and by the strained glances many sent their way as they were announced into the room, it hadn’t gone unnoticed. A few brave ladies even directed glares at Ria before schooling their features into something more pleasant. Without guests at the table, it might have been a boring dinner, but reading body language and facial expressions would likely be more interesting than any conversation.

For some reason, his gaze went to the young servant as they took their seats. Mehl didn’t know why, but instinct screamed that interesting might come in other forms. A newcomer in such a tense situation? He would listen to instinct and watch that one closely.

Now, Mehl had two people to guard.

Chapter18

A Rat in the Larder

I’m such an imposter.

Ria kept her grip relaxed on her spoon, but she didn’t dare scoop up more than the slightest bit of the rich stew. And not only because of nerves. Once again, she was in a borrowed dress, though at least the one she’d worn to court that morning had technically been hers, only designed for another. The gown she wore now was more elaborate than anything her father would have kept in stock, and she dared not spill a single drop of soup or scatter a crumb of bread on the rich fabric.

“Is something wrong with your food?” Toren asked in a low voice.

She sighed. “No. Just nerves.”

There really wasn’t any point in going into greater detail than that. He was so accustomed to such luxury that he might dismiss her concern over her gown, and the rest of her worries he surely knew, considering they sneered up at her from more than a few faces. Toren was a shrewd enough king to see the glances and stares, the intense scrutiny on her every action. Why draw attention to herself more by discussing it?

She had enough to focus on. Dress aside, a misstep as great as spilling food would be tittered about for days. Maybe weeks. For that matter, even a minor mistake would provide a barb for their arrows. So she did her best to mimic the ladies at the closest tables—small, measured bites. Delicate motions. Slight smiles.

Gods, this was awkward, and Toren had yet to make the announcement. Voices rose and fell in a murmuring wave from the tables in front of them, but neither Toren nor Mehl seemed inclined to speak beyond Toren’s polite enquiry. Were they truly going to endure this entire dinner in silence while the court pretended not to stare incessantly?

She couldn’t stand it.

“Toren,” Ria said softly, surprising the serving maid into bobbling the bowl she was removing. Ria breathed an apology to the maid before focusing on the High King. “Tell me about yourself. You, too, Mehl. We should know each other better.”

Both men smiled, but the differences made a fascinating study. There was no softening in Toren’s formal demeanor, a sort of polite detachment that gave away nothing of his feelings. But Mehl’s lips curved up with a hint of his usual humor, and his posture eased a fraction. One born to court life and one trained. How would they answer?

“It is kind of you to inquire, Lady Ria,” Toren replied. Her cheeks warmed at the reminder of her title—and her lack of use of his. “What do you wish to know?”

So cool and reserved, as though he hadn’t been buried to the hilt in her body only an hour before. Ria set her spoon down with a soft click and fixed a polite smile on her face. What could she ask him? Certainly not about family. Even had his demeanor been more open, she would not have ventured there.

“Perhaps I am too forward, Your Majesty.” Ria paused as another servant placed a new plate in front of her. “But I find myself curious. What do kings do when they are not occupied with the kingdom’s business?”

Mischief danced in Mehl’s eyes. “Some might say wedoa great deal, particularly of late.”

The innuendo was so light that Ria almost missed it, but Toren’s lips twitched. “Behave, husband.”

“I was merely referring to our sword work.” Mehl’s brows rose. “You’re a bit rusty, but I’ve enjoyed the indulgence. One never knows when one might need such skills.”

A hint of Toren’s reserve slipped, enough to reveal his exasperation for a moment. Hastily, Ria lifted her goblet to her mouth to hide her grin. Was Mehl doing this on purpose to put her at ease, or did he always enjoy needling his husband in such situations? It was a curious dynamic.

“I am certain you would be heartbroken if I did not indulge you,” Toren said smoothly. “You’ve never been fond of taking your blade in hand without me to direct you. Howdidyou make it through your early years?”

It was fortunate that Ria had tipped the glass to her lips in show, for she surely would have choked on her wine at that teasing barb. Toren’s statement had been delivered with polite calm, but the implications beneath his words were more than clear. For his part, Mehl merely chuckled low and lifted one of the tiny pastries from his plate.

Setting down her glass, Ria studied the trio of matching pastries on her own dish. What course was this? The third? It seemed a waste of effort to present three such tiny foods as an entire dish, but she had no idea how many more rounds would be served. Probably more than she wanted to sit through, but at least the meal hadn’t been too bad as yet.

She watched the way Toren ate his serving before copying the motion. A laugh tinkled up from the lower table, and Ria stiffened. But when she peered toward the source, the lady chuckling with her friend seemed to be paying no attention to Ria at all. Not a slight, then, only her imagination.

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