Lanthe put down her pen. “You want credit for that—even though you think he’s dead anyway?”
No, she couldn’t have expected Sabine to defy Morgana any more than she had. But Sabine didn’t seem to regret what the queen had done, even after Lanthe had told her everything about Thronos, about all that she and the Vrekener had been through together.
The pages Lanthe had written of their history had been erased from existence—just like their history had been erased from Thronos’s mind.
Sabine had been shocked to discover that Lanthe truly loved him, and probably had since she was a girl. But she hadn’t embraced the idea of her little sister wed to an enemy Vrekener: “Especially one who doesn’t even have a house, much less a kingdom,” Sabine had said, making Lanthe want to punch her in the tit.
Sabine had been more worked up about Emberine daring to cut off Lanthe’s tongue: “She will pay dearly for that. I plot for her very soul!” Sabine had also raised a fuss over the dragon gold: “I didn’t conceal your necklace from Morgana just so you can throw it away willy-nilly! Let me handle Bettina. I know her pressure points. Consider their declaration of war null and void.”
In an attempt to distract Lanthe from her search, Sabine had invited Cadeon and his family to stay for a few weeks. Lanthe had paused only to press a kiss on each babe’s downy head, greet their parents, and ask Holly if she knew where Nïx was (“No earthly idea”). So Lanthe had gotten back to work.
The entire royal family pitied her. Yesterday Lanthe had gone to Tornin’s library for more maps. Rydstrom and Cadeon had been down in the courtyard, conversing amiably in their deep demon voices and Sith Ifrican accents. With a swaddled babe in each arm, Cadeon had crowed, “I’ve got a trio of females who all adore me. Life is rich, brother!”
Spying Lanthe above, Rydstrom had motioned for Cadeon to keep it down.
They shouldn’t pity her. Because Lanthe was going to fix this. She needed to get her husband back for more than just—
“Are you sending out even more gold?” Sabine said now, setting away her goblet. “Lanthe, you’ve spent a fortune!”
In their childhood meadow, Thronos had tickled Lanthe, teasing her, “You like me far better than gold.”
I do. I really do. “As if you wouldn’t do the same for Rydstrom.”
“But Thronos is a Vrekener. They’re despicable!”
“Those are my subjects you’re talking about!” Lanthe could call them names all day long, but if anyone else did . . .
“I insult our age-old foes, and your eyes glimmer with outrage? Up is down, down is up.”
“Just leave, Sabine. I don’t have time to make you understand.”
“Kicking me out, when I have in my possession a letter from Thronos to Rydstrom, sent before the collapse of the Territories?”
Lanthe’s eyes went wide. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”
“We’ve only just learned of it today, because I allegedly ordered the Vrekener messenger to be waylaid and interrogated—in defiance of Lore law. Which allegedly delayed the letter a bit.” She tugged a folded sheet of parchment from inside her gauntlet. “I make no apologies. Based on the information I had, I was desperate to find you.”
“Open it!”
When Sabine patted the divan beside her, Lanthe nearly tripped on her feet to join her there. “You haven’t read it?”
“No. Rydstrom has, and he suggested we read it together.”
Lanthe saw Thronos’s handwriting and seal, and tears welled. She didn’t trust her voice, so she circled her hand in the air, come on, come on.
Ever dramatic, Sabine took her time unfolding it. “I wonder how your Vrekener will respond. Rydstrom’s letter to him was by no means gentle, so I can only imagine what this rebuttal will contain.” Finally Sabine held up the letter, and together they read:
King Rydstrom,
My first reaction when I received your message was anger. Who the hell are you to advise me on how to treat my beloved wife? To make her happy?
Beloved wife? Lanthe’s tears spilled down her face, making Sabine roll her eyes. They read on. . . .
I think you and Queen Sabine have a mistaken impression of Melanthe’s life in the Territories.
She roams the kingdom freely, fully empowered—because I trust her implicitly. She wears whatever garments she chooses and worships gold, of which I plan to provide her ever more.
She doesn’t do these things because I allow her to, or because she demands to—this is simply the way things are in our life.