Page 78 of The Fae Kings' Bargain

His brother had always hated him for it. Ber was his twin, born second by nearly an hour, but unlike Toren, he possessed little natural magic. As a child, he’d called Toren a thief, and sometimes Toren couldn’t help but wonder if he was right. Their mother had sent Ber to foster with the Centoi years too early just to stop the constant bickering.

Ber had never forgiven any of them for that.

Mehl’s mental voice broke through his thoughts.“The others are in position. I had Sir Macoe place Ria and Tes in the corner of the alcove so he can watch the tunnels, too. Just in case.”

In case Ber was there after all? An unfortunate possibility.“Good.”

When the Centoi contingent stepped through the doors this time, there was no jaunty herald trilling on her horn—said herald was currently hidden in the wall near Mehl’s throne. But the entrance was no less spectacular for the lack. Instead of a bard, four soldiers marched through, each holding the corner of a funeral bier.

An honest-to-gods funeral bier with a woman who greatly resembled Tes stretched out atop. Not Tes in her herald’s garb, either. This woman wore an elaborate gown, white with autumn leaves embroidered at the hems, and a jeweled tiara atop her head. This was what one expected of a princess. Except she was clearly dead, and he knew very well that Tes had no sister.

His skin prickled, and he gave thanks to Mehl for his foresight as his diminished magic started to hum in tune with his worry. This wasn’t right. Initial reports had indicated a body tied to a horse, not a funeral procession. Even Lord Aony played the part, his clothing a deep black and his eyes red-rimmed and swollen from apparent tears.

Only habit kept Toren impassive.

Unlike the messenger, who released a strangled gasp-cry before stumbling forward to drop to his knees beside the long runner leading to the dais. “How?” the man gasped.

Very much what Toren would like to know.

The procession halted near the base of the dais, and Lord Aony sketched a bow. But Toren wasted no time on preamble. “You have much to explain to us, Lord Aony.”

This time, the duke was too smooth to let any emotion slip. “Of course, Your Majesty. I must confess that our earlier message was a ruse designed by Princess Lora herself. She wished to see in person how you would react to the news of her marriage to your brother in light of the challenge he has recently issued.”

“We were not greeted by the lady lying in state before us,” Toren said coldly.

“She acted as our herald.” Lord Aony’s voice began to crack with each word. “But brigands set upon us in the night. They killed a sentry, Princess Lora, and her bodyguard before the rest of the camp roused.”

Based on his soldiers’ own reports, Toren knew the statement for a lie, but something told him not to fully challenge it despite the shocked murmurs sweeping through the courtiers. “Is that so? Intriguing that your group should encounter violence on the same night one of your warriors tried to hurt a member of the royal family, and more so after the arrival of a messenger from Centoi claiming the Duke of Aony is currently on his lands to the far north.”

The man inclined his head. “The princess gave great thought to this subterfuge, Your Majesty, including my supposed retreat to the north before the winter. As for my warrior, she claimed to be visiting family in the city. I have no idea why she might have accosted you.”

Both of them were aware it wasn’t true. But how far would Lord Aony carry the deception? “Attacking a member of the royal family typically warrants a death sentence.”

“Naturally.” Not a hint of concern flickered across the duke’s face. “It is the same in Centoi. Please, execute her. It will save us the trouble of doing so ourselves.”

There it was, then. Lord Aony knew exactly who Toren had captured, and he had no qualms about seeing her killed. Whatever plot Tes thought she’d concocted with Ber had been a ruse—against her.

Ber wanted his pregnant wife dead.

* * *

Beside her,Tes swayed, and Ria wrapped her arm around the princess out of instinct. Only the barest light illuminated the tiny alcove through the magically cloaked observation hole, but it glowed like the moon against Tes’s pallor. The woman’s ragged breaths sounded loud in the small space, enough so that Ria cast a worried look out of the hole to see if noise was cloaked, too.

Probably. None of the courtiers had glanced their way, even after Tes’s initial gasp.

“That ill-born piece of slag,” Tes muttered beneath her breath.

Ria’s nose wrinkled as she stared out at Lord Aony. “Which one?”

“Ber,” the princess snapped. “Though Aony can join him in the dross heap. They planned this, complete with the bodyguard who looks like me. Just in case there’s suspicion, Ber said. Someone who could pretend to be me if there was danger. Hah. She’s wearing my wedding dress and tiara. The ones I left at home.”

Gods above. Ria tightened her hold on Tes, but it was as much a hug as it was physical support. The poor woman. At this point, Ria couldn’t be mad at her for the attempted abduction. That was nothing next to hearing one’s former ally order one’s execution, likely at the behest of one’s own husband.

Toren’s voice reached them. “Shall we do so today so that you might carry her body back, too?”

Tes went rigid against her.

“Release her body to her family here,” Lord Aony said. “It will be grievous enough to present this bier before King Ryenil, not to mention the princess’s grieving husband.”

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