Our eldest is ill, and he is asking for his father.”
It was an excuse, and everyone present knew it. A subtle way of the pair indicating that despite Lydia’s father’s endorsement, they would not support Lucius in the elections. But rather than appearing annoyed, Lucius only smiled at the young woman and said, “Nothing serious, I hope? We really do need to be mindful of the health of our heirs. Would you like me to send over my personal physician?”
Cordelia stiffened almost imperceptibly, then shook her head. “That won’t be necessary.” She closed her hand tightly on her husband’s arm, all but dragging him from the room, pausing only for a heartbeat to meet Lydia’s gaze, her eyes full of condemnation. “Thank you for your hospitality, Lydia.”
But Lydia heard what the young woman really meant: if Lucius wins, it will be because of you.
11
KILLIAN
Killian followed the Princess silently through the palace, trusting neither his temper nor his tongue until they were alone. Up the stairs and down the corridor and into a room full of ladies, all who stood at the sight of the Princess, their eyebrows rising with interest as Killian followed her inside.
“Lord Calorian is sworn to me now,” Malahi announced. “So you can expect to see much more of him, as my safety will be his first priority.”
“And our safety, by extension?” one of them—High Lord Torrington’s daughter—quipped with a smirk. The way she looked him up and down made Killian feel like he was a horse at auction, and the giggles of the other young women did not improve the situation. “I’ll rest ever so much easier knowing a god-marked warrior is within reach.”
She said the last with a slow wink and Killian’s cheeks heated, which only added to his foul temper. Gods, but he hated being at court.
Expression unreadable, Malahi gestured to the door. “If you ladies would allow us some privacy, Lord Calorian and I have much to discuss.”
They all departed without a word, but the knowing looks and sly smiles frayed the remains of his self-control.
“Why have you done this?” he demanded, slamming the door with enough force that the picture hanging next to it fell from the wall with a clatter. “What are you playing at, Malahi? This is no joke. Not for me. I’m now sworn to you for life.”
“You wouldn’t have a life left to live if I hadn’t done it, you ungrateful idiot,” she said, crossing the room and taking a seat on a velvet-upholstered sofa, “so perhaps enough with the complaints.”
Glaring at her, Killian went to stare out the glass doors leading to the expansive balcony. The sea beyond was grey and storm tossed, and he watched a Maarin vessel fly across the waves, blue sails straining against the wind.
They’d made him do it right then and there. Get down on his knees and swear to protect Malahi with his sword and his life until the gods took one of them. Dareena had supplied the proper words, but in truth, Killian hadn’t needed them, because he remembered. Remembered his father sitting with him as a child, helping Killian memorize the oath to repeat to the Falorn princess, just as he himself had decades before to the girl’s father. She’d died before Killian had ever had the chance to say them to her, but they still felt burned into his soul.
The thought of his father sent a slice of pain through his gut. Dead when Mudamora needed him most, and Killian might as well have stabbed him in the heart himself. Shoving aside the hurt, he muttered, “It’s like being married. But worse. At least I wouldn’t have to spend every waking minute with a wife.”
“Would sharing my bed help ease the pain?”
Twisting around, he gaped at her. Malahi chuckled before reaching down to pick up a deck of cards, shuffling them without intent to play. “I’m joking, Killian. I’ve no intention of taking up with you.”
“Not far enough up the chain of succession for your tastes?” He shrugged. “Your loss.”
Malahi rolled her eyes. “I’m interested in your martial prowess, Killian, not your other rumored talents.”
There was something easy about slipping into banter with her—certainly far easier than thinking about every gods-damned thing that had gone wrong. Losing the wall. Losing his father. Losing what semblance of freedom he’d ever had. “So you have heard those rumors.” Never mind that most of them were total bullshit.