If he was forced to kill the princess from Farhall, he knew somehow that it would haunt him.
They are more troublesome than expected. The king’s observation echoed across their link. It was not yet a command, but the Raven’s shoulders tensed as he awaited the words that would force his obedience. The princess must agree to this alliance. Therefore you will not permit her to be harmed or disrespected, nor will you permit her guards to poison her against us. Your duty is to be her constant shadow. I will be informed if she or her people engage in treachery, or if my son does anything to endanger this accord. You will, of course, send word the moment the princess decides for or against the marriage.
Beneath his mask, the Raven’s lips curled upwards in a cruel mockery of a smile. For a decade, he’d pretended to be less than what he was—an automaton, with no thoughts or feelings of his own. It ensured that the king underestimated him. Everyone did. They feared him, yes, but they did not expect him to think.
But today, the king had gotten careless, and his words were less than specific. An entire flock of wyverns could’ve flown through the holes in those orders.
Beneath the Raven’s iron control, emotion began to seethe and take shape. But he shoved it back, into the deepest, darkest part of his mind. He couldn’t let Melger feel what he was horrified to realize were the smoldering embers of… hope.
But no. He refused to indulge in that most treacherous, most useless of emotions. It didn’t matter that the princess was not what anyone expected her to be. It didn’t matter that she was unexpectedly tenacious and likely to cause a great deal of chaos. It most especially did not matter that he found her intriguing. There was no hope. None. Not ever.
The Raven turned his attention back to the moment, expecting Melger to argue or assert his will. To be condescending and dismissive.
Instead, after he had gazed on the princess for a handful of moments, the king turned to address Captain Orvell.
“You and your men return to your posts.” That was all. He assigned neither blame nor commendation.
Then he turned back to the princess. “Choose your two,” he said bluntly. “I think it would be best if we avoid any repetition of this incident.”
“We?” Prince Vaniell murmured under his breath, so quietly, he probably hadn’t meant it to be overheard.
By the minute twitch of the princess’s eyebrows, she’d heard him anyway but chose not to respond.
“I couldn’t agree more,” she said instead, with such overwhelming dignity it seemed certain she was longing to point out Melger’s staggering hypocrisy. “And, taking that into account, I will be appointing these four”—she pointed to her guards—“to attend me for the duration of my stay. The remainder I will personally dispatch in the morning to oversee the return of my maids and ladies to Farhall and ensure their safety on the road.”
If the Raven hadn’t been watching Vaniell closely, he might have missed the tiny smirk that creased the prince’s lips.
The viper was amused.
Whatever King Melger had expected, it wasn’t for the princess to deny him. But when he failed to assign blame, he had also surrendered the moral high ground, and the princess seemed very much aware that she’d been handed an opportunity.
The king opened his mouth.
But to the surprise of—apparently—everyone, Vaniell entered the fray on the princess’s behalf.
“My dear Evaraine,” he said, moving towards her to take her hand and press it to his lips, “that is an eminently sensible suggestion. We are grateful for your understanding.”
What was this? He was actively obstructing his father? The Raven might have thought the two men were planning something deeper, but for the emotions resonating across his link with his captor.
Shock. Outrage. It seemed that King Melger very much desired to know what sort of unfamiliar being was currently wearing his son’s clothes.
“Now that we’ve sorted this out,” the insubordinate prince continued, “I’m sure we should leave you to your rest.” He wore a smile so soppy and insincere, the Raven felt vaguely nauseated. “But first… a gift.”
The initial surge of surprise from Melger melted into apprehension.
And as before, the Raven still felt that inexplicable urge to remove the viper’s hand from the princess. Or perhaps he just wanted to remove the hand. Come to think of it, that would be far more satisfying.
“I meant to present it this evening at the reception,” Vaniell continued, “but