I’ve never felt quite so popular.”
“How sad for you.” Malahi’s voice was stiff.
Instead of acknowledging her retort, Hacken’s eyes flicked to Lydia. “Lydia, is it? A strange name for a northern girl, but what does a name matter with a face like yours?”
She didn’t answer, his scrutiny drawing a cold sweat to her skin.
He gestured for her to approach. “Sit, dear. I don’t want you to miss anything when you report back to your captain, who I’m sure is about ready to break that door down.”
The last thing Lydia wanted to do was go any closer. “I’m accustomed to standing, my lord.”
“And I’m accustomed to being obeyed.”
“Do it, Lydia.” Malahi’s amber eyes went to hers. “Just sit down so we can get this over with.”
Rounding the table, Lydia perched gingerly on the sofa next to Killian’s brother, cringing as he played with hairs that had come loose from the knot at the base of her neck. “Do you suppose he chooses pretty ones on purpose?”
“They aren’t all pretty.” Malahi’s voice was frigid. “Get on with it.”
Hacken continued playing with Lydia’s hair. “As I toyed with what your end game might be, Majesty, the question arose in my thoughts: Why go through all that effort to bolster my name if you had no intention to wed me? And it dawned on me that perhaps it was not my name you were bolstering, but my family’s name. A name which I am not the only man to hold.”
Killian.
“A vision of your intentions rose in my mind: We would replace your father, whom everyone despises, with you. You’d then dispatch my dear younger brother to win this war against Derin, which would of course make him a hero to the people, for there is nothing anyone likes better than a tale of redemption. Just as there is nothing the people would love better than for you to take the handsome, marked, hero of the realm and put a crown on his head. More perfect still, for Killian has no taste for rule, and therefore would be quite content to be relegated to the role of consort, leaving Rowenes as the ruling house and you an autonomous woman. There’s just one problem.”
“And what is that, Hacken? That you’ll no longer support my rule if it means your younger brother having power over you?”
“Oh, I’ve no fear of that, Malahi.” He chuckled. “You thought it would be easy, didn’t you? Winning Killian over? Except, as I’m sure you’ve come to discover, my brother’s reputation as a womanizer is … grossly overstated. If you’d come to me, I might have told you the truth: Killian would fall on his own sword before bedding a girl he isn’t in love with. And he’s not in love with you.”
Malahi didn’t react. Didn’t seem to even breathe. “What makes you so sure about that?”
Hacken’s fingers twisted into the collar of Lydia’s coat, and with a sharp jerk he snapped the chain. Examining her ring, he then dropped it on the table before Malahi with a loud clatter. “Seldrid nearly fell off his chair when he learned our little brother had spent two thousand gold coins on a trinket, but what I found most interesting is that Killian didn’t give it to you.”
Malahi’s eyes were fixed on the ring, her face filled with naked hurt.
“I can explain,” Lydia blurted out. “It was mine. I sold it to Lady Helene because I was desperate, and Lord Calorian only bought it back because he knew how much it meant to me.”
Yet even in her own ears, the words sounded hollow. Most everyone in the city had lost everything they valued. Most of the girls in Malahi’s guard had lost everything. That Killian had done this for her was damning enough, but the sheer amount of the expense …
“Makes you wonder where he goes every night, doesn’t it?” Hacken leaned back on the sofa, resting one polished boot on his knee.
“The children in the sewers.” Malahi’s voice was shaking. “He feeds them. Cares for them.”
“All night?” His eyes slid to Lydia. “And this one, from what I hear from Brin, is also notably absent in the midnight hours.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a handful of buttons, along with a cuff link shaped like a black horse. “I went to my own residence today to ensure anything of material value was removed to my ship, and it was clear it had seen some visitors.”
“It’s not what you think. He’s … we’re…”