The Queen's Line (Inheritance of Hunger #1) - Kathryn Moon Page 0,76

one another, and I turned my eyes down to the floor as two of the Chosen stepped out into the hall.

Even without looking, I knew who it would be. The former Ambassador Pope and the Prince of Mennary. It was their suite they stepped out of, stopping in the hall with their heads bowed to one another, the language on their tongue foreign. I wondered if Pope spoke Mennarian for the prince's sake, or if they were intentionally hoping to not be eavesdropped on.

I told myself it was part of my role, my position, to know minute details of what went on with Princess Bryony. I was the head of her royal guard here in the north. I had been appointed to protect her while she stayed here. Still, it may have been wishful thinking on my part to believe that it was within my duties to know that these two particular Chosen were…

Not quite what their title implied.

I wondered why the princess made no use of them. Was it that they were lovers themselves, and their relationship didn't appeal to her? Did she keep the prince on for the sake of diplomacy?

"We'd better just go in before they get started again," Wendell Pope hissed as the men passed me and headed for the princess's suite. "We won't make any progress if we never see her."

I narrowed my eyes on their backs until the prince—Thao—glanced over his shoulder at me, eyes glaring back. My gaze dropped and I swallowed hard.

Progress in what? In making their way into her bed, or was it something else?

You're bored and jealous and paranoid, I thought, my jaw grinding. But it is my responsibility to protect her, and if their motivations are political, or if they—

Boots stomped up the hall and I shook myself, straightening in front of the princess's door as the new shift guard came to relieve me in the hall. I would remain near, ready to follow and guard Bryony if she moved from her rooms, but it was Yorley's responsibility next to guard the door.

"Did the new steward finally arrive?" Yorley grunted. "Seems like the repairs are happening quickly."

"There've been no repairs," I answered.

Yorley scoffed and stared at me, his face its usual shade of red beneath his helmet, eyes bloodshot. In time since our appointments started, I realized that I didn't like my fellow guard. In fact, I didn't like most of the men assigned to me. Not one of us had been a royal guard before, there hadn't been need of one in the north for decades if not longer. I'd assumed that meant we might work well together, adapt to the new situation and build rapport. Now it appeared as though I'd been given a group of men who were no longer of any use to the army, and asked to prop them up against walls and make a show of it.

"There's new tiles on the floors, the chandelier's been replaced, cracks have been mended, and you want to tell me that there's been no repairs?" Yorley asked.

I straightened even further, moving away from the wall and glaring as I watched him take my place with a slouch. "You want to tell me that you think there are tradesmen at the palace that you just haven't seen? Unless you've been working with your eyes shut and your ears plugged, Yorley, I don't think you could've missed them."

I would not have put it past Yorley to work with his eyes shut and his ears plugged, actually, but I knew he'd never admit to it if he did.

"S'pose our little hands on princess must be enjoying the work herself," Yorley said, yawning and filling the air between us with the stench of stale ale. "Speaking of, you managed to convince her to put her hands on you, yet? Was thinking of taking a crack at it myself today, just slip in during a pause and fill her up."

He reached down, cupping himself through his uniform, just in time for the door to open from the princess's suite. I moved in front of him, more for the sake of whomever stepped through than Yorley's dignity. With a little afterthought, I would've let Bryony catch him in the gesture, just for the joy of watching her toss him out like she had Sir Hubert.

It was Wendell Pope in the lead, a slight furrow in his brow as he stared over my shoulder at Yorley before his eyes flicked to mine. "Sorry, do