Chapter 16
Castle
Castle watched the queen leave the council room in a hurry, and it wondered why both royals had so abruptly left.
“What was that about?” Meera asked inside the council room, the cat licking her paw.
“Can you not groom yourself in private?” Fargus asked, feathers ruffling.
“I had to watch you pull the entrails from a mouse the other day,” Meera said. “I think you can deal with this.”
Even the royal advisors couldn’t get along.
Morton blinked, his tail undulating behind him. “That was odd. His Majesty is never one to leave a meeting early, and Her Majesty is not one to attend a meeting. They’re both acting strange.”
Neither Wolfe nor Ambrose met the gazes of the others.
Lor had been upset by something, something that hit a deep wound the king held. Castle could not read minds, but it could feel the emotions of those who dwelled within its walls.
Lor was on a mission, one that had distracted him so much he’d ended this meeting early. And now Aoife was following him.
Interesting. Very interesting.
The queen fled down the same hallway as her husband, quiet and far enough behind that he took no notice of her.
If Lor was in his right state of mind, he’d likely realize he was being followed, but His Majesty was frazzled, ever since the queen made the comment about him failing to take down the brotherhood.
Castle weighed the pros and cons of what was happening. It could intervene one way or another. Stop the queen from her pursuit of Lor . . . or encourage it. Castle had meddled many times before, and it had never gone well in the past.
But perhaps things were shifting. It was imperceptible, almost, but Castle could have sworn the king stepped in for the queen during the meeting, that he’d helped her when her mind had been elsewhere.
The king could have embarrassed the queen for not paying attention, could’ve used the opportunity to undermine Her Majesty, show the council why he was the better fit to rule.
But Lorcan Wolfgang had not done that. He’d helped her while maintaining her dignity.
And yes, the meeting had ended in an argument, like it often did between the king and queen, but even the argument felt tame compared to arguments in the past.
Neither had raised their voice. No chairs had been thrown. No angry, reddened faces. They hadn’t even stood and gotten nose-to-nose like they so often did when they wanted to make a point.
Small, but significant.
Lor was far ahead of Aoife now, down the stairs and disappearing through doors. Aoife was still in the same corridor where the council meeting had taken place, the distraction from Margaret slowing her down. The queen would never catch up to the king at this point.
Castle had a choice. It could meddle. It could help the queen on her mission to follow Lor, or it could do nothing at all.
By this point, Castle knew exactly where Lor was heading as the king descended into its depths. There was only one place he could be going. Toward a secret he’d been holding onto for a long time.
If Castle meddled, it could go badly. The queen could choose to do something that would hurt the king, that would almost guarantee no reconciliation.
But . . . that shift. Castle had felt it. So Castle made a choice, one it hoped it wouldn’t come to regret.