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I sigh. “I apologize. It’s been an exciting morning.”
Amartis taps my back. “It’ll get more exciting if you don’t take care of yourself.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know what it means. You’re pent-up and overly aggressive because you need pussy.”
“Less talking. More action.”
Amartis shakes his head. “Deny it all you like. You know I’m right.” When I don’t respond, he asks, “What are your orders?”
“Bring me the captain of the guards.”
“What about the people downstairs?”
“I’ll deal with them.”
Amartis leaves, and just when I think I’ll be left alone again so I can concentrate on my duty, I spot Claudette’s husband taking the steps. He approaches her from the side and then behind, and Claudette smiles as he leans in to whisper something into her ear. He’s so slick about doting on his wife in public that I almost miss his hand sliding over her bottom and giving it a squeeze.
Claudette’s arousal spikes, and the queen wiggles in her seat. It’s a slight movement, but I’m watching her the way a hungry, lone wolf might watch a little girl in a red coat crossing his territory in the middle of the night. The females exchange looks and remind me that the queen must make decisions about the mating season.
Frederick’s coup disrupted the mating season. Some fae left, but others remained, and yet more were unable to leave or make arrangements to go elsewhere. There’re people like June’s parents, villagers, and farmers who sold most of what they own to bring their daughters to court in hopes of marrying them into a better life than they were born into.
The court holds balls and promotes the mingling of all classes of fae, but since the court is now in mourning and the queen wears a black lace scarf, she’s telling everyone that the season has stopped.
If I could end Frederick again, I would, if only for interrupting the spring season. Not only because it impairs the continuation of the Seelie bloodlines, but it also hurts the royal treasury from which his nephew has been stealing.
Claudette’s husband lingers, and she turns toward me. From the corner of my eye, I can tell they’re waiting for my attention so they can have an excuse to speak with me. I’m on duty and on high alert as the queen stands and makes her way toward the bowl of punch that Pavonos rolled into the room. He’s posing as a servant so we can listen to conversations.
Still, the queen can’t be seen fetching her own drinks.
“Claudette,” I bark. “The queen.”
“D’Artaron, oh, there you are.” Claudette practically drags her husband over to me.
“Where is the service staff?” I see Pavonos rolling the cart toward the queen. He nods, telling me he’s got her and will serve her, while I glare at all the fae that are starting to surround her. My instincts claw at me, urging me to walk with her so that the crowd keeps its distance. But I can’t. The queen should be approachable right now.
Claudette and her husband stand with me, but I can’t spare them a glance because I’m observing how the courtiers and anything they carry or wear interacts with the royal I’m responsible for.
“D’Artaron,” Claudette says, “I want to introduce you to my husband, Ivosen.”
A young male wearing a fine, deep blue jacket approaches the queen. He bows elegantly and engages her while serving her a drink. Across the room, I glare daggers at Pavonos, who’s allowing the male to even come that close to her. In the back of my mind, somewhere far, far away, my sanity whispers, She isn’t yours.
I deploy my selective hearing.
“D’Artaron,” Claudette calls, and for a moment, I wish selective hearing were real.
“What am I doing?” I ask her.
Her husband takes a stab at it. “You’re standing guard.”
“And what are you doing?”
“We’re trying to talk to you,” he says. “But I see that’s a mistake.”
“Don’t be rude, D’Artaron,” Claudette says.
“There, there, my dear,” her husband says. “Some of us can’t talk and guard our females at the same time.”
