29. Chapter 29 #2
“The Assembly doesn’t want to kill him,” I said, the words scraping my throat raw as worry bloomed outward from my belly. The world narrowed to the memory of his body broken and bloody on my floor—eyes empty, unable to move, because they’d almost done it anyway.
Reina briefly lost her composure, pupils leaking into the irises. “Tell me what you know.” Then, like frost locking over a pond, it reappeared, back rigid and her face grave. “I can’t be of service if I don’t possess the required information.”
Uh oh. In for a copper, in for a purse of gold with these people.
“The mercenaries who attacked us said that mages provided them with the ring that allowed Owain to be tracked.”
Reina desperately tried to mask the murderous glint trying to spread across her face. “Mercenaries? A ring?”
There’s that Nocthel protectiveness.
“…Yes, outside Selmont. He didn’t tell you this?” I didn’t know whether to feel guilty about accidentally telling her or not. “Owain took the ring with him when he returned to the Tir. The mercenary said the mages wanted him ‘back in their care.’”
“That’s much worse. And if they’re using an artifact…” She gently set down her teacup, concealing the tremor in her hands. “The Assembly employs mercenaries solely to create a buffer between themselves and their sins.”
I nodded.
“Lady Lunette, my work is easier when fewer people can guess what I will do next. So let’s keep what I’m about to say between us.
” She took a dainty bite of her own food.
“I think Berian’s illness is part of an assassination attempt.
The Assembly is fomenting chaos in Gelida, why not here too?
I already have people investigating because Queen Theresa is dead under similar circumstances—and she was all the way in Freuxcourt…
” Reina harrumphed like she hadn’t just thrown a torch onto a barrel of tar.
“Yet another thing no one else knows about—yet.”
The queen was dead. Dear gods, Berian had no children. One poisoned king could start a war. But a dead queen made their plan a well-strategized one.
And Owain was next in line. The bread in my mouth turned to chalk.
As if reading my thoughts, she asked, “You had a look inside. Do you think it possible the king’s illness is not natural?”
“Yes.” The warmth of the tea spread through me as I gathered my thoughts with another long sip. “He may have been poisoned, but I think it’s more likely that magic similar to my own created much of the damage.”
“Explain, please.” The black had leaked out of her eyes now, but her voice still held quiet command.
“The scarring I noted on his organs. It could be natural—or more likely, frequent, small doses of targeted damage could’ve caused it. I don’t only heal. I can also rend flesh.”
“Show me,” Reina ordered.
“How…?” I wasn’t certain she knew what she was asking.
She rolled up one sleeve and showed me her open palm. “Make it small and heal it afterward if you’re worried,” she insisted.
My eyes widened. “But…”
Her answer was to plop her upraised hand on the table in front of me.
“Okay…” My magic obeyed as I dragged a single finger across the fleshy part of her palm. A crimson stream began to flow as the skin cleaved, revealing a raw, gaping wound.
“Holy gods,” she cursed, pulling her hand away to cradle it to her chest. Her eyes were as black as Owain’s. “And that fast? By all the magic, you aren’t to be underestimated, are you?”
The destructive part of me had no patience for restraint. I’d spent years watching people’s expressions shift the moment they understood what I could do—the subtle reorganization of how they looked at me, from person to danger or, worse, weapon.
I searched Reina’s face for it, but she just looked at me, steady and unsurprised, as if the only thing she’d registered was that I was still sitting there.
“Yes.” I nodded, gesturing for her to present her hand again. “Rending is far simpler than healing.” Healing the tiny wound took barely a spark of magic.
“Thank you for the demonstrations… That itched abominably.”
Not allowing the minor choking incident to put me off filling my belly, I shrugged and kept eating. At least I would be a well-fed royal asset.
Reina studied me as I ate for a long moment then said, “There will be a dinner tonight. Several of Berian’s bannermen are concerned, so Owain has to put on a show of being the perfect regent. I want you there.”
I pointed at myself, incredulous. “Me?”
I did not want to attend some fancy noble dinner. I’d be an embarrassment at best, or worse, a liability.
Reina’s smile turned wolfish. “Hiding you after you’ve been discovered will only make us look guilty of something. If we show up with a grand magus of healing no one else knew about—especially one so young—it will only help strengthen Owain’s position.”
Which might help keep him alive.
The words were unspoken, but they lingered in the air between us nonetheless.
Reina said, “No one can avoid politics in the Tir, my dear. You need to know the players since they’re going to try to find out everything they can about you.”
“But I don’t know how to be a lady!” I protested, straightening in my seat.
“We’ve already begun your lessons.”
I subtly shifted my weight, hoping to appear more at ease beneath her intense scrutiny.
Probably not the proper way to sit either, Lunette.
Despite my personal feelings, her logic was sound.
“I’ll go. But not because I care about strengthening Owain’s position.
And not because I’m na?ve enough to think I have a choice.
I’ll go because I want the border raids to stop, and they’ll only get worse if the Tir is thrown into further disorder. ”
“Not a lady, she says, and yet she understands what it takes most years to get about politics.” Reina’s face brightened, her eyes sparkling with a satisfied smile that showed she approved of my answer.
“There is never a straight path to getting what we want—even when it seems like the solution is simple. Small things, like making ridiculous displays of people like you at fancy dinner parties, can make the right people say ‘yes’ when we need them to.”
I had the sinking feeling I was about to become her favorite project.
“Yet…you mentioned choice…” Reina took a considering sip of her tea, not giving a single hint that she was about to go on the attack. “Tell me honestly, Lunette. If Owain himself had ridden to Selmont and told you your king was dying…would you have refused his request for aid?”
I crossed my arms, not liking where this was headed.
She was right. I wouldn’t have refused because my ridiculous morality wouldn’t have let me. Because the ugly truth was that a man’s life did outweigh my temporary freedom.
“No,” I said eventually.
“Then let’s not pretend you were dragged here against your principles.” Reina nodded. “Yet I also won’t pretend that we haven’t greatly inconvenienced you. The crown owes you more than one debt. Thank you for saving my nephew.”
My ears popped again as she stood up, dismissing the ward preventing anyone from hearing us. She walked over to the small table where she’d placed the ornate wooden box and carried it over.
“Part of your disguise. They don’t need to know just how special you are.” Reina opened the box to reveal a white silk scarf covered with fine chains of delicate gold. “It will do for your ears, but unfortunately I don’t have an illusionist I trust enough to change your eyes.”
I really wasn’t getting out of this. “So, what’s my first lesson?”
“How to curtsy.” She laughed. “It will be a pleasure to watch them squirm trying to figure you out.”
I cleared my throat. “Will Ro—Owain be pretending not to know me?”
She whispered, “Best call him prince while we’re pretending, yes?”
I began to roll my eyes before I realized a guard was watching us intently. I’d completely forgotten they were there. “Noted.”
“He will. I would owe you a great deal more if you could keep a close eye on him for me.”
I’ve never been able to look away. But all I said was, “If you think it’s necessary.”
“They’ll be watching him like ravens circling a battlefield, searching for weakness or the taint so many seem to want to see in him.”
“His magic?” I asked.
She nodded. “They don’t understand, nor do they know that we’re part Fae. Now…” She clapped her hands once. “Let’s get you ready.”
Tonight, I would see him beneath chandeliers instead of weak tallow candlelight. I wondered which version of him would hurt more—the prince or the real man who probably still lived beneath the title.
Knowing what Fate had done so far, it would be both at once.