With a wary look, Con took Anure’s envelope from me. I had to control the impulse to scrub my hand against my skirt to rid myself of Anure’s taint. Even though I’d kept his letter pinned in my nails and not touching my skin, I’d loathed having the vile thing near me, and I’d been hard-pressed not to show how much its contents had shaken my already tenuous composure. The ice I’d been carefully layering around my heart all these long years of ruling alone had begun to fail me. Too much stress. Too much Con and his hotheadedness.
Too many feelings I didn’t know how to control.
Thus, I was more than happy to hand the letter into Con’s keeping. If only I could as easily rid myself of Anure’s words. I’d been reading his crazed and cruel missives for years, but this one had exceeded them all somehow, crawling under my skin like a filth I could never remove. They corroded my already fragile barriers, making me feel weak.
I hated feeling weak.
And now Con just stood there, holding Anure’s letter instead of instantly reading it—assessing me as if he expected something more. Why wasn’t he reading the cursed thing? He’d been waiting for this moment, practically frothing at the mouth for action since our hasty wedding. Now, when he could act, he did nothing, staring me down.
I kept my chin high and expression composed, refusing to let him intimidate me. My wolf king hadn’t tamed much in the days since our marriage. Not that I’d expected him to, really.
As my consort, however, he could damn well spend a few hours in court to demonstrate he cared about Calanthe and respected my rule. Or at least give the appearance of doing so, to silence the snickers of the courtiers who already spun tales that I’d been coerced into this marriage and used by the erstwhile Slave King as surely as Anure had planned to do.
As Anure still planned to do. For every moment you make me wait …
If I had to be married, I should at least have the comfort of feeling a little less alone. There had been moments, brief glimpses here and there, when it seemed possible Con and I could be a team. When we actually understood each other. Those flashes of harmony shone with bright promise—usually during sex, admittedly—but vanished in the harsh light of morning.
In the final analysis, the two of us came from different worlds and I should have realized Con wouldn’t fit into mine. Even now he stood out in the gardens like a bloody sword thrust through a garland of jasmine. Scowling and seething, dressed in unrelieved black, and as always with his rough rock hammer strapped to his back and his bagiroca hanging heavily from his belt, Con was a warrior spoiling for a fight.
I could tell by the look in those golden eyes that he’d happily take that fight with me if I offered the opportunity. I toyed with the idea. I could needle him further to draw him into the argument he so clearly wanted.
No, I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. He had no business acting like the wounded party. He’d made me have to come to him, so it was up to him to make it up to me. As he’d yet to reply to me, I waited him out with cold expectation. He might have the strength to break me in half with those big hands if he chose, but politics were a familiar battleground for me and I knew how to wield my silences like a master.
“Perhaps, Your Highness,” Con finally said in his smoke-ruined voice, gravelly and deep, “we should discuss the contents of this letter in private.” He still held the envelope, not moving to open it, steady gaze on mine.
I jilted to a halt in my mental dance of triumph. I’d gained the upper hand by forcing him to speak first, but something was off. The beat of silence extended awkwardly while everyone waited on my reaction, their avid interest practically a scent in the air. Con and I were still new enough together that our protocols weren’t well worked out. It didn’t help that he’d turned out to be so obstinate about appearing in any formal capacity with me. Our public interactions were rare, frequently contentious, and apparently, endlessly fascinating to those around us.
When he’d first entered my court—had it only been a week? It seemed like forever ago—he’d requested a private audience and I’d used that impertinence as a weapon against him. No one had forgotten it, naturally. Then there’d been the very public argument over the Defense Council, which had added new fuel to the gossip wildfire. My court, ever lustful of new entertainment, watched all interactions between Con and me with gleeful anticipation of more juicy tidbits. I was loathe to fuel their hunger further.
The silence extended, this one not at all under my control.
Con still returned my gaze with wariness, the leashed violence in his posture betraying his agitation. That was nothing new. How much was aimed at me, however, I couldn’t be sure. Great green Ejarat, why wouldn’t he—With a sour crush of chagrin, I realized my error.
Con didn’t read well. In my terrible mood and upset at Anure’s promised retaliation—which was arguably entirely Con’s fault—I’d forgotten about that. An unforgivable error, really, as Con couldn’t read because he’d been ripped from life as crown prince of Oriel and forced to labor in the mines of volcanic Vurgmun.
Did he think I’d intended to humiliate him as payback for his various transgressions? Not that I was above such tricks, but I wouldn’t use his past against him. I doubted Con knew that, however. I needed to resolve this détente immediately.
“Of course, husband,” I said, as if no lapse had occurred. I added a coy smile and a flutter of lashes to distract our observers. The anticipation sighed out of my entourage, a breath of disappointment that there would be no fireworks to describe at the festivities of the Night Court.
I drew nearer to Con, watching his gaze fire with the hunger we had yet to sate between us. At least there was that. “You know I treasure time spent in private with you.” I reached up and trailed my nails over the short, surprisingly silky hair of his dark beard, partly to make a show, partly to indulge myself—and partly to feel the thrumming tension of his response to me. A moment of perfect harmony shimmered into place. He closed his hand over mine in shared understanding, the hot, rough skin a reminder of his touch in more intimate places. I suddenly felt much better. Yes. Only sex, but at least there was that. “Leave us,” I airily told the others.
We wouldn’t be fully private, of course. Not unless we retired to our rooms, and even there I couldn’t be certain. Anure’s spies were everywhere, and even those loyal to me couldn’t resist feeding their curious interest in us when they thought they could escape notice. As Calanthe’s crown princess since my birth, and confirmed Her queen in my teens, I was accustomed to the constant attention. Con … not so much. The pervasive crowds made his skin twitch like a hunted animal’s, his golden gaze going feral as he constantly scanned every movement for potential danger. Giving him the illusion of privacy would help calm him.
Indeed, he relaxed fractionally as my ladies politely herded everyone away, until only my adviser, Lord Dearsley, and Con’s people remained. Kara and Sondra hung back, as if unsure if they should post a perimeter guard. I hadn’t yet gotten a good read of General Kara. He hailed from Soensen, a realm that had fought more fiercely than most kingdoms, held out longer against Anure than many, and fallen the hardest because of it. The tall, dark-skinned, and rawhide-thin man had barely spoken two words to me without Con present.
Sondra would speak to me, though she didn’t like me much. The warrior woman wore her pale-blond hair long and straight, always washed and brushed to a shine, although she paid no attention to any other part of her appearance. Ambrose did the opposite, making up for them all with his adoption of elegant attire. He stood beside Con, smiling genially, forest-green eyes alert with amusement, power shimmering around him with nearly palpable heat. The orchid on my hand shimmied its petals, as if coquettishly waving at him.
“You look very well in your garb as court wizard of Calanthe,” I told Ambrose. I’d stepped back slightly from Con, to give us some polite distance, but he retained hold of my hand, and I was unwilling to make a show of tugging it away, even if only in front of our closest advisers.
“Is that what that outfit is meant to be?” Con raised his brows dubiously, looking Ambrose up and down. “I thought maybe a night sky puked on you.”
Behind me, Sondra snickered and Kara cleared his throat. Lord Dearsley, who’d been my father’s adviser before me, and was easily three times my age, looked pained at Con’s coarseness. Ambrose only cocked his head at Con, his raven familiar echoing the gesture with uncanny similarity. “Such petulance. I pity Queen Euthalia in having to deal with you. Lady Sondra, General Kara, I believe we’re not wanted.”
At last. Though Sondra and Kara didn’t move until Con dipped his chin in permission. I wouldn’t let their fealty to Con first and foremost annoy me. Much.
“What are Your wishes for me, Your Highness?” Dearsley inquired, bowing to me with pointedly elegant manners.
“Please see to any of the petitions that don’t need My personal attention.” The ones that did … who knew when I’d get to them? Every day I seemed to fall further behind. The grind of the intensifying nightmares and fretting about Anure’s retaliation, on top of dealing with Con, made me inefficient and weary. Dearsley bowed again, more deeply than he had to, making a further point of showing respect, and departed.
“Walk with Me, Conrí,” I said, moving away from the many hiding places of the dense flower beds and hedge mazes, and out to a semi-enclosed folly on the cliff overlooking the sea. With a short grass meadow all around, at least no one could hide close enough to overhear, and the surf against the rocks made for a decent noise screen. Con strode beside me, scanning the area in his hypervigilant style, ever ready for the least hint of danger. It irritated me. He was the enemy who’d come to my island, cornered me, and manipulated me into this marriage. Effectively he’d conquered me and Calanthe both. I tried not to let that stick in my craw, as we were supposed to be allies now, but I couldn’t so easily forget who posed the most immediate danger to everything I’d built and tried to protect. Con had a different agenda, and I harbored no illusions that he’d sacrifice Calanthe to get what he wanted.
“I don’t think Anure will leap out of the bushes to attack,” I said, more tartly than I’d intended.
“Forgive me if I take your safety seriously,” he retorted. “I recall making vows to protect you.”
I bit back a sigh, regretting my words, and my resentment. No matter how we’d begun, the two of us needed to find ways to agree, not argue. Besides, I was the jumpy one, feeling the press of the dread future and Anure’s hot breath on the back of my neck. That had been true long before I even knew Con existed. “Thank you for that. Though My gardens are quite safe.” I said it to reassure myself as much as him.
Con glanced down at me, a brow quirked meaningfully. “No venomous snakes in paradise, then?”
“Just Me,” I replied. “I apologize for taking out My anger on you—and for My misstep in handing you the letter to read. I truly forgot. I did not intend to embarrass you.” Not for his inability to read, anyway. I’d wanted to call him out for his absence in court, for all the ways he’d turned my life and rule upside down. I didn’t often misfire that way. Except that I’d done it more often with Con than ever before. I had no idea what to make of that.
“I have thick skin,” he replied, his rough voice softer. We entered the folly, and he turned to face me, gaze going to my mouth. “It wasn’t your fault—I should’ve said something.” He paused, an odd expression on his face as he stared at me. “You look nice today,” he said, as if that explained something.
I raised one brow at the non sequitur. “How poetic.”
“Yeah.” He snorted at himself, then frowned, thinking. “I mean, you look … gorgeous. And dangerous. Seeing you walk down that path, so beautiful and sexual—it made me stupid.”
Unexpectedly, my heart fluttered with pleasure, despite his less-than-elegant phrasing. I’d heard plenty of flowery phrases, and that sort of court flattery rolled off me. Con’s words struck me to the core, probably because he meant what he said. But I tried not to let him see how susceptible I could be to his compliments, how his heated attention melted the ice around my heart. I couldn’t afford to be vulnerable to him or anyone right now. I had to be cold, sharp, and strategic if I was to save Calanthe. No room for weakness.
“Thank you,” I replied, sounding far too stiff. To mitigate it, I added, “I was in a mood when I dressed this morning.”
“Some presentiment of this?” he asked, holding up the missive from Anure. Not an idle question, either. Con was consumed with curiosity about my magic and nature—and I had yet to decide how much to tell him. My father would’ve said to tell Con nothing at all, that I had no reason to trust this man who cared nothing for Calanthe. A man who might use my secrets against me, if it served his revenge. Still, it hardly seemed like a workable plan to keep him in the dark with all we faced. Trust him or not?
I didn’t know, so I said as little as possible.
Besides that, I didn’t like to give voice to the forewarnings of death and destruction that plagued me nightly. The nightmares had gotten worse in the last few days, and that was saying something, as I’d already found them nearly unbearable. Then I’d begun to see omens of my own death in them, and that would be enough to unsettle anyone.
Con didn’t know about the nightmares, and I intended to keep it that way. Something about the crashing and abandoned passion of sex with Con made our mornings-after strangely intimate. I was vulnerable in those moments before I’d armored myself for the day, my soft underbelly painfully exposed.
Con didn’t seem to notice the effects of the dreams’ tumult. I must sleep peacefully enough, only shaken and drenched in a cold sweat when I woke just before dawn. To keep him from noticing then, I’d established a routine to take advantage of the Morning Glory’s imminent arrival. My ladies woke Con early and immediately spirited him out of my bed. He left thinking me still asleep, which gave me time to steady myself in the dreamthink. In that calming state of neither sleeping nor waking, I could find my center again, and rebuild the careful walls of thick ice that protected me.
If only I could banish the nightmares as easily as I ordered Con removed from my bed.
“Lia?” Con was studying me, trying to discern what I couldn’t afford for him to see. “Is it only the letter, or is something else wrong—what aren’t you telling me?”
“Isn’t the letter enough?” So perceptive, Ejarat take the man. “Nothing else is wrong,” I added. A mistake, as he looked even more unconvinced, so I shrugged, deliberately raising my breasts in order to distract him.
Sure enough, his gaze went to my bosom and rose again to my mouth. He seemed to consider a moment, then tossed the letter onto the nearby bench. Facing me, he settled his hands on my waist, his grip firm and nearly encircling me, the heat burning through my gown. He studied my lips. “I’d kiss you but that stuff on your lips looks poisonous as any snake.”
“While I’m sure you’d be charming with your masculine beauty highlighted here and there with a bit of color, I don’t think this look would work smeared on your mouth.” I’d meant to take control of this exchange, to be lightly taunting, but I’d gone breathless from the moment he touched me. The corset bones bit into my ribs as I reached for a deeper breath, my breasts feeling as if they swelled in the tight confines, my nipples peaking. “Don’t look at Me like that, Con.”
Dammit, I’d meant to chastise him, not make a breathless plea.
“Like this?” He took his time scanning me, that fulminous gaze wandering over me, his smile lazy and full of hunger. His eyes came back to mine still seeking to penetrate my masks. From the beginning he’d been able to see through me far too well. I was fighting a losing battle, trying to keep him at a comfortable emotional distance. Just as I’d lost the battle to get him off Calanthe. And now, here we were, dancing this high-stakes waltz together.
I returned the scrutiny, studying the strong-boned face, the eyes that should be brown but looked gold in most lights, the thick black brows and pitted skin. He wore his hair long and loose as usual, but it failed to soften him in the least. He looked dangerous, too, and sensual—and like he wanted to eat me alive. Ejarat help me, I was no longer just teasing him, but had grown warm with my own need. Tempting, to forget everything but wanting him. Something else I couldn’t afford to do.
He shifted one big hand to the small of my back, and raised the fingers of the other to my throat, laying them on the pulse there. My heart thudded hard, so he no doubt felt it. “So lovely and cool on the surface,” he murmured. He trailed his rough, callused fingers down my throat, then traced the upper curve of my breast beneath the lace ruff where the fabric met skin. “And volcanic beneath.” A shiver ran through me, and he watched my face intently. “Are you angry or are you more—”
“Oh, I’m angry.” No way I’d let him finish that question.
“At me—or at Anure?”
“It can be both,” I tried to snap.
Making a tsking sound, he bent closer, lips grazing my ear. “I know I piss you off, but I’m not the villain Anure is.”
“No, but you’re closer and you—” I broke off as his teeth closed on my ear in a nip that arrowed straight to my groin.
“Not as close as I could be,” he replied in a soft, meaningful growl.
“We have observers.”
“I know.” His words had a cryptic edge that gave me pause.
“What—” I gasped as his fingertip grazed my nipple beneath the bodice, then moaned when he pinched it. “Con…”
“They can’t see this.” Watching my face still, he slid his hand deeper into the cup of fabric, cupping my breast, his palm rough on my swelling nipple, a hint of a smile on his lips at my reaction. I was hard-pressed not to move in or yank away. He was testing me in some way, perhaps the extent of my anger and his. I’d only ever known sex with my ladies, which had always been a kind of tending, full of soothing caresses and gentle pleasure.
With Con, our fiery natures tended to fan the flames in the other. I wanted to rage at him in my fury, tear at him with my nails and teeth—and I wanted to cling to him, to take him inside of me and have him hold me safe from the world and Anure’s threats. A distressing discovery about myself, and yet another development I didn’t understand at all.
“Not now,” I said, asserting control with a bit of desperation. I pulled away, collecting my thoughts and purpose again. He didn’t protest, only examined his fingers, rubbing them together.
“I wondered how far down the makeup went,” he said with a smile that passed for charming with him.
I gave him an incredulous look. “How can you flirt with Me at a time like this?” Never mind that I’d started it. But I’d done that to derail his line of questioning while he … Realization dawned. “You were deliberately distracting Me.”
“You needed a moment to regroup.”
When I only glowered, he continued. “In a pitched battle, even the best soldiers can lose perspective. They can get rattled, making emotional decisions instead of calculated ones. Taking a moment to regroup can tip that balance back.”
Rattled. Struggling to regain the upper hand in the conversation—wondering how the hell I’d lost it—I reached for my usual icy reserve. “I am not one of your soldiers.”
Tipping his head, he smiled slightly. “Fair enough.” He nodded at the letter, all business again. “What does the Imperial Toad have to say?”
I snatched up the envelope, using the movement to adjust my bosom and make sure my dress covered me as intended, then flicked my nails to undo the intricate folds of the missive. It unfurled in my hands like a carnivorous blossom, but one gone gray from rot. Oddly enough, I felt better able to face it now. Which I would not give Con the satisfaction of admitting. I read aloud.
Darling Wilted Flower of My Wounded Heart,
Oh, My rosebud—or should I call you a crushed blossom? Used up, soiled, chewed, and devoured by the worst of dogs. I can only hope you suffer for betraying your vows, and with the one you promised to capture for Me, a traitor who dares call Me an upstart emperor of a false empire.
I feel confident you have many regrets, given that cur you married, and in a whore’s gown. You’ll never cleanse yourself of his taint, of your own guilt and perfidy, and Yilkay will never welcome you into the afterlife. On the bright side, you won’t face the goddess’s judgment for many years to come, because once I lay my hands on you—and that will be sooner than you think, My ruined former fiancée—I’ll keep you alive and remind you hourly of how you hurt Me.
I’ll purge you of your false loyalties by scouring your precious Calanthe until only bare rock remains. Then will you come back to live with Me, and you will give me what is Mine. Sooner than you think.
You could have been an empress. Instead you’ll be skinned and shredded, then fed alive to my dogs.
All My fury,
His Imperial Majesty
Proud of myself for making it all the way through the vicious words without pause or my voice quavering in the least, I cast the thing aside. It lay there on the colorful silk pillows of the bench, fluttering in the sea breeze. If I’d had a dagger on me, I might’ve impaled the paper with it.
Con had begun idly pacing as I read and now stood, his back to me, hands folded behind him as he stared out at the sea. “He meant to frighten you,” he said at last.
“Oh, do you think so?” I replied with hair-curling sarcasm.
He turned at last and looked at me, a different expression on his face than I’d expected. Not pity for my weakness, but a kind of compassionate respect. “Yes,” he said simply. “More, I think he succeeded. There’s no shame in being afraid, Lia.”
I took a breath to retort, reaching for my pride and anger to shore up my shell of reserve. But his grave concern undid me, and I hiccuped instead. To my horror—and, yes, shame at my weakness—a small sob wrenched out of me.
“Here now.” In a few strides, he had his arms around me again, pulling me close against him. Nothing sexual in it this time, no teasing, only comfort. And so help me, I clung to that solid strength as if he could save me. I wouldn’t weep—my heart had long ago frozen too solid to allow for tears—but the emotions tore at me with claws of grief and rage and … fear. I was so afraid. And a queen couldn’t afford fear.
“You’re not alone, Lia. Everything will be all right,” Con murmured. “I won’t let any of that happen.”
“This is your fault,” I managed to say while clamping down on the sobs. And still I held on to him like he could keep me from being swept out to sea, though the coming storm was so much greater than either of us.
“His Imperial Nastiness never sent you horrible letters before?” He sounded gently amused, rubbing his big hands up and down my back, strangely soothing.
“Of course he did.” Oddly, I laughed. And it loosened the tightness in me. “And always awful.” But Tertulyn and I had read them together, mocking them like girls pretending Anure’s threats would never come to pass. Now Tertulyn had disappeared and I’d shared the letter with Con. This was the first time, I realized with a wave of disorientation, that anyone but she knew the things Anure wrote to me.
Con hadn’t laughed. He’d understood how I felt, maybe even before I did.
“It’s a horrifying letter. It got under my skin, and I’ve been through terrible things,” he replied, holding me against him with unaccustomed gentleness, as if I might break.
“I shouldn’t have read it in court,” I said, admitting the error. “Normally, I read his letters in private.” With a glass of wine or a generous pour of brandy to ease the pain.
“Why did you?”
With a sigh, I pulled away, determined to stand on my own feet. Calanthe depended on me. If I allowed myself to lean on a man who didn’t care about Her, then She would fall with me if—when—he sacrificed us in his game of vengeance.
Con had crushed the netting at my bosom and I straightened it, thinking of how to defend my actions. I’d been in a foul mood, and seething with annoyance that Con refused to attend court, and furious with myself for even caring. It had also occurred to me that the missive might contain information I’d want to keep from Con. I didn’t doubt he’d use Calanthe as a tool to get to Anure. “The messenger who brought it said that—”
“What messenger?” Con shot out the question, startling me. “Didn’t the letter come by bird?”
“No. That style of envelope is too big for a bird to carry. The messenger came by ship from Yekpehr. He arrived just as court convened.”
Con swore and strode to the edge of the folly, cupping one hand to focus his strained voice. “Kara!”
General Kara popped out from behind a tree at the edge of the meadow. Con gave him a series of hand signals—and the man saluted and ran off.
“What did you tell him?” I demanded. I hadn’t known they could use signals like that—or that Kara was there—and I didn’t like not knowing things. Add it to the list, a wry voice in my head suggested.
Con faced me again, eyes glinting with anger. “I sent him to the harbor to investigate and make sure all is secure.”
“You knew he was there.” No wonder he’d sounded cryptic, and knowing, when I warned him we had observers.
“Of course,” Con growled. “You’re guarded by my people at all times.”
“I have guards,” I pointed out with acid disdain.
“You have pretty boys and girls in fancy uniforms better for looking good than deflecting weapons.”
“And I have My ladies,” I added, “whom I seem to recall defeated you handily.”
He curled his hands into fists, jaw tightening. “With magic.”
“Well, yes.” I smirked at him. “Not all weapons are made of metal.”
“Magic alone can’t protect you,” he ground out. “You admitted that.”
No denying that, curse it, so I acknowledged the point with a curt nod.
“I told you that I’d protect you, that my people would help protect Calanthe, so why in great green Ejarat didn’t you tell me a messenger from Anure had arrived?” He finished on a near roar.
I opened my mouth, but he plowed on, face taut. “For that matter, why the hell did your people let a boat through? We discussed this, that no new boats would be allowed into the harbor.”
“Oh, we did not ‘discuss,’” I hissed. “You issued an order. I modified it, since this is My kingdom.”
“Then you put your kingdom in jeopardy, out of a foolish need to spite me.”
“Don’t pretend that you actually care about Calanthe,” I fired back. “And I’m not stupid. I’ve been queen of Calanthe for years and kept Her safe long before you arrived to throw orders around as if you’re My keeper.”
He loomed over me. “You need a keeper, Lia,” he snarled, emotion making his voice even rougher. “What if that had been an attack? No, you just welcome Anure’s man with open arms.”
“I. Know. The. Difference.” I spaced out my words so they’d penetrate his thick skull. “Do you think I’m so oblivious that I can’t tell a sloop from a battleship? That I can’t discern a single, letter-carrying messenger from an attacking army? Because I assure you, I can. I captured you, after all.”
“Through enchantment and trickery,” he snarled through clenched teeth, clearly still sore about that one.
“Exactly,” I replied, allowing myself a smile of triumph.
He glared back, white makeup smudges on his dark shirt from holding me. Which had been kind of him, and unexpectedly compassionate. And somehow we’d gone from that to battling each other once again. I took a moment to gather my composure. “Why are we fighting with each other?”
He raked a hand through his hair, looking past me with a grim expression. “I suppose because we can’t yet kill the guy that deserves it.”
“And never can.”
“I will. Mark my words.”
“You can issue arrogant proclamations all you like, but words are easy. Killing Anure is impossible.”
He glared at me, incredulous. “If you believe that, then what are we even doing?”
“I ask Myself that hourly.”
Setting his teeth, he spoke through them. “Why did you agree to marry me and work as a team to defeat Anure if you never believed we could win?”
“I had no choice, did I?” I bit out in the same tone. “Marrying you was the only viable option amid far worse choices.”
“But you did make that choice,” he pointed out grimly. “So why not work with me on this?”
“Because you’re hotheaded and reckless,” I spat.
“That may be true, but it’s worked for me so far, sweetheart.”
Our glares meshed, simmering between us. For a moment I thought he might kiss me after all. Then, when he didn’t, I kicked myself for feeling disappointed.
Instead, he took a step back, hooking his thumbs in his thick belt and drumming his fingers. “I interrupted you before,” he said in a neutral tone, as if the argument hadn’t occurred. “Why did you read Anure’s missive in court when you usually read the letters alone?”
I stuck with the most innocuous truth. “The messenger said that it contained news about Tertulyn.”
Con frowned, and I took it for confusion. “My oldest friend,” I clarified. “My first lady-in-waiting, who has been missing these last days.”
“I remember who she is. What I don’t understand is why a ruler as savvy as you are hasn’t figured out that Tertulyn was a spy who fled to Anure.”
I laughed. An absurd suggestion. Or was it? “That is the last thing she’d do.”
“The two of them clearly have been playing you.”
“You’re wrong. Tertulyn would never betray Me. She’s My friend.”
“Or she was Anure’s spy, planted to keep you on his hook all this time.”
“How was she recruited then?” I countered. “Tertulyn never even met the emperor.” Though she had frequented the Night Court without me, so she would’ve have had opportunity to meet with other spies. Except that didn’t bear considering because Tertulyn simply wouldn’t betray me. Would she?
“I don’t know,” Con answered in a neutral tone. “I don’t need to know those details. They’re irrelevant.”
“The details are not irrelevant, because those are the pieces you’re missing,” I insisted. I would not let him plant his doubts in my heart. “You’re new to Calanthe, and you don’t understand. Tertulyn and I were children together. Until recently, never a day passed that I didn’t see her on waking, that I didn’t retire to her good nights.” And sometimes retire with her, as Tertulyn had always been solicitous of me, and generous in giving me pleasure or comfort as I needed. I wouldn’t tell Con that. It was private and he didn’t need to know that Tertulyn was the one person in the world I’d called friend, who’d loved me for the person I was, not the crown I wore. No, she couldn’t have been a spy. I would have known. Surely I couldn’t have been blind to something like that.
Con studied me as I spoke, discerning what I hadn’t said. “Anure visited Calanthe.”
“Only once. My father took care of that.”
“Once is enough,” Con pointed out with relentless logic, “if you need proof that they could’ve met.”
“So your theory is that he somehow managed to get Tertulyn alone and subverted My dearest friend into only pretending to love Me, so she could one day disappear. Not much of a long game.”
“Anure left Calanthe engaged to you, yes?”
“Betrothed. I was only twelve, Con. Far too young to be formally engaged.”
“You’re mincing words.”
“No, it’s a vital difference. Betrothal is a promise of engagement. I was never Anure’s fiancée, no matter what you or he may believe.”
“It’s not an important difference for this conversation. Anure left your island believing he’d eventually make you his empress. Why wouldn’t he leave a spy behind to ensure that everything happened according to his plan?”
“Of course he has spies. I just know Tertulyn wasn’t one.” I lifted my chin, aware of my eroding position as Con gave me an exasperated look.
“Lia, I know you don’t trust me, so—”
“Just like you don’t trust Me.”
He didn’t acknowledge that and forged on. “—so you don’t want to tell me much about your magic. But you admitted before that you are connected to Calanthe, that you sense the birds and fishes.”
“True,” I replied. No sense denying that, but I wouldn’t elaborate if I could help it. My father had always been so adamant that I shouldn’t talk about my nature and abilities. If people guess, from the old stories, so be it. But we don’t need to hand them power over you and Calanthe.
“Can you sense the people on Calanthe, too?” he asked, watching my expression with keen attention. I suspected very few people could get away with lying to him. I probably could—I have a deft hand at it—but I decided not to.
“Yes.” No need to admit to the rather glaring exceptions to that ability.
“Then is Tertulyn on Calanthe?” he persisted with relentless logic. “You should know.”
I hesitated—and visibly so, curse it—because he immediately spotted it, gaze sharpening like a wolf on the scent. Bright Ejarat, I should’ve been able to spin a lie without thinking. This being vulnerable to someone confused me on many levels. Con had neatly trapped me in this, too. I’d have to admit to this blind spot in my abilities, something I’d really hoped to keep from him a bit longer.
“How about we agree to something?” Con said, gently enough that his voice lost its rough edge, and I could hear how it might have been before the toxic fumes in the mines robbed him. “Instead of lying to me, just say you’re not going to answer. That way I’m only fighting my own ignorance, not deliberate misdirection.”
I firmed my lips over several replies. He waited me out, a mocking glint in his eyes challenging me to deny it. “Agreed.” I really hated that he was right. I’d asked him to use his brutality and ruthlessness to help me save Calanthe. I had to trust him far enough to do that. But not so far that I didn’t keep a close eye on his plans—nor would I relinquish my power to him. “I’ll answer, but you must promise to keep this a secret.”
I’d have liked to ask him not to use the knowledge against me, but ha to that.
To my surprise, he went down on one knee, lifted the black netting at my hem, and kissed it. He looked up at me, the golden flecks in his eyes catching the light like the sun glinting on the sea. “Euthalia, my queen and lady wife, I swear to keep your secrets as my own.” His hand slipped under my skirt to caress the spot high on the back of my thigh where he knew a pattern of golden bark and spring leaves twined over my skin. He’d traced it with his tongue the night before, a sensation my body remembered distractingly well. “I promised this already,” he continued, pointedly stroking the marks that revealed my nature, “since your secrets protect you. But I ask you to think about this: What about Tertulyn, who knows so much about you?”
Somehow that hadn’t occurred to me. My ladies all knew something of what I hid beneath the heavy makeup and elaborate clothing. But Tertulyn knew the most of anyone. Here I’d been so worried about what Con might do with my secrets when I might already be doomed. All because of a woman I’d thought was my friend.