“Oh, please do. That would promise an entertaining evening.”
I snarled and yanked my knife from the wooden surface, retreating into my chair with a snarl.
Patience. It was a virtue, one I needed to exercise until the opportune moment arrived. I had to bide my time.
“I’m sure my Valahant would appreciate some action. After all, he was left wanting when Lady Lyana graced my chambers.”
I could do this. As a princess, I had to maintain composure. I could handle my brother’s attempts to provoke me with grace.
“Have the Priests of Togamar voiced their approval of your treatment of him, particularly your disregard for half the ritual?” I clucked my tongue. “Favor of the Gods indeed.”
“The latter part is for lovers.”
My heart faltered.
He took another long drink, then smacked his lips. “The Ritual of Balance requests divine permission to bed your Valahant.” He leaned low to scrutinize my reaction, seeing the sting of my blush. “You still haven’t bedded him?” He turned in his seat, smirking at Sainte. “Gods, man. I know she’s ugly, but have pity on the poor creature!”
And so the evening went.
I pushed my food around the plates, the texture of each dish like sandpaper against my senses, my stomach churning with every word my brother uttered. He shifted his focus away from me, directing his lies and venom toward dignitaries seated at our table. Their expressions ranged from forced smiles to grimaces, enduring his vitriol as I did.
I glanced at the ambassadors and visitors from distant lands, empathizing with their plight. They, like me, were ensnared in this gathering, compelled by duty to endure the regent and his venomous words.
“Is it true that the trade of one’s body is forbidden in your realm?” Adastrus inquired, his tone dripping with disdain as he probed the ambassador from a southwestern kingdom about their stance on prostitution.
I averted my gaze to the bowl of soup before me, its aroma mixing with the sour taste of bile in my mouth.
“It is, Your Highness,” the ambassador responded, his demeanor exuding patience as he clasped his hands over his substantial midsection. “We have abolished the practice of debasing oneself to such depths.”
Adastrus sipped his wine, his words dripping with contempt. “Pity. It’s the final recourse for a woman in society. I say let them spread their legs and take a coin. Right, Lady Lyana?”
That’s it.
A surge of anger swept through me like wildfire, burning away any semblance of restraint. I began to rise from my seat, my hands clenched into fists, ready to confront him.
“Where’s my coin?” Lyana’s voice, barely audible, was sharp as a dagger.
The room fell silent, tension palpable.
My heart plummeted as her words sank in. I stood frozen, hovering above my chair, the weight of the situation pressing down on me like a heavy cloak. The carrots in my soup blurred before my eyes, a futile distraction from the harsh reality unfolding before me. I couldn’t protect her here, not in this den of vipers. Any action I took risked setting off a chain reaction of consequences, each more dire than the last. And by the end of it all, I would be thrown into the dungeons to rot.
Or I would be killed.
“Your coin?” Adastrus’ voice remained eerily composed. “Lady, you were a willing participant. Half the castle saw you lie there and enjoy–”
“Where is my coin,Prince Regent?” Her face lifted in defiance, anger and resentment brewing in her eyes like a storm at sea. “You made me a promise, one you failed to uphold. Are the rulers of Wynterborne not bound by their oaths?”
“Be sure to get it in writing next time.”
A primal urge to slap him thrummed through my veins. Tradition be damned. Still, I froze when a shadow darkened behind him. Grimm—not focused on me or Sainte, but on Lyana.
“You promised to set him free,” she said.
No. This was not the place.
I rose, ready to intervene for her sake, but she stood firm, meeting my brother’s gaze with unwavering defiance.
“A man’s words in private hold little weight,” he sneered. “Don’t take it too seriously—It’s nothing personal.”
