Runes and shadowfangs. Before she could try to smooth things over, King Elhaem gave a curt nod. “It is no secret the mortal kings of our land have acted dishonorably in the past, but not every man should be judged by their ancestors.”
“Perhaps if some of your mortal kings were queens you wouldn’t have this problem,” Stolas idly pointed out, not even bothering to look away from his current fascination—a cord that, when tugged, draped the slats in the ceiling with golden curtains to block the light.
If they were in private, she might have kissed him.
Neri’s lips twitched, and when her dark brown eyes drifted to Haven again, there was a newfound light there.
“Perhaps.” Eros took in the fleshrunes glowing softly over Haven’s bare arms. “But I think you will find, where honor is concerned, gender or race have very little to do with it.”
The servants froze as Stolas padded on silent feet to the refreshment table and poured himself a glass of sparkling wine. “A pirate waxing poetic about honor?”
Eros’s wide shoulders stiffened at the insult, and Haven gritted her jaw. What the Netherfire was Stolas doing?
But Neri didn’t look surprised as she slid a calming hand down the king’s side, a honeyed smile on her tight face. “Pirate would imply stealing something that isn’t yours. After the former ruler of Luthaire fell and the kingdoms broke into chaos, King Boteler sent mercenaries to take command of our shipping fleet. Naïvely, we thought he was helping us. But as soon as he controlled the trade routes, he diverted all of the food and resources to Penryth.”
Bell’s brows gathered. “That’s—that’s not true. He had to take control or the warring factions would have destroyed all trade south of the runewall.”
“That was your father’s claim, yes, but not the truth.” Neri regarded Bell for a heartbeat. Was it just Haven or did the fierce lines around her eyes soften? “I imagine during the Curse’s reign you were well fed? Well clothed? You had clean water and spices and medicines, tallow for your candles, oils and perfumes to smell nice?”
Bell blinked. “Of course, as did the southern kingdoms. The ruling nobles south of the wall came to Fenwick every month and I assure you, they lacked for nothing.”
That was absolutely true. Haven always knew when the southern lords were visiting by the cloying perfumes and ladies garbed in the latest fashion.
“The nobles who visited Penryth struck a deal with your father. Their absolute support for a few scraps of food and fabric, just enough to keep them accustomed to their opulent lifestyles.”
Bell’s throat dipped as he worked out what she didn’t say. “But not enough for the people under their rule.”
Something dark rippled over her expression, there and gone. “When you’ve seen a child die of starvation, you do things you might never have done otherwise. Eros started with one ship. Then two. Slowly, he took back what belonged to the people knowing he would be branded an outlaw, his reputation forever soiled. Everything he raided from King Horace’s shipping line was given to the people. He is the only reason most of us survived, and the reason every single citizen here remains loyal to him.”
Us. That explained the raw edge in her tone. Haven had assumed by Neri’s well-spoken manners and grace she was noble-born, but perhaps not. Most noble-born mortal females didn’t speak their mind, and they certainly didn’t challenge their husbands.
“If that’s true,” Bell began, “then I am deeply sorry, and I will do whatever it takes to right that wrong . . .”
His mouth clamped shut, as if he was just now remembering that he was no longer in a position to make such a declaration.
Haven’s heart clenched. If she could take that pain away from him somehow—but no, just as she had to deal with her own wounds, he had to mend his.
A squeal drew the group’s attention to Stolas and something . . . no, someone tugging on his wing? When Haven’s mind wrapped itself around what was happening, she couldn’t hold back her laugh.
Eros and Neri’s youngest child had escaped her guards and was tugging on one of Stolas’s long wing feathers. Her black hair was pulled into tight braids all around her head and secured with green and yellow ribbons, and she was screeching something in Sancrit as she jumped up and down, completely oblivious to the danger right next to her.
Stolas had gone completely still, as if not moving would somehow