Again? Warna wasn’t going to ask, because a deep chill ran down her spine at his words, his lovely voice filled with hate. Recalling Kalynn’s words at the tower, she didn’t hold back. “Does your hatred of humans,” Warna paused. “Does your hatred of us truly add value to the memories of your Lady Summer?”
Charrin reared back. “How dare you speak her name,” he hissed. “What do you know of loss, of pain? You, who have barely seen twenty years, if that? I have underthings older than you.”
Warna wrinkled her nose at that, but then answered him honestly. “In the last year, I’ve lost everything. My family, my home.” She looked down at her hands, pale against the black of her skirts. “A degree of belief in the goodness of people, human as well as elven. I am not sure that the number of years matter. We share these things, Charrin. Elf and human alike.”
“How dare you,” Charrin spat, his face contorted in rage.
“It’s easier to hate than to mourn, isn’t it?” Warna continued on. “Easier to dwell on the grief than live.”
“You miserable, hateful—”
A knock on the door brought Charrin to a stop, trembling as he stood there.
“Forgive the intrusion,” it was the handmaiden, peeking in through the open door.
“Enter,” Warna said. “Please.”
The handmaiden advanced, her flowery skirts rustling on the carpet, and curtsied before Warna. “Please forgive the delay. Queen Blesenthala invites you to take tea with her.”
Warna didn’t think twice. “I’d be delighted.”
Charrin watched thehuman flee.
How dare she compare her squalid feelings to his. How dare she claim that they shared anything.
Verice had to be made to see his error, his folly, and no amount of song or poetry would convince him, Charrin was certain of that. Only actions would suffice to bring that stubborn Lord around.
Charrin took a deep breath, composing himself. There would be a time and place.
And then he would act.
Chapter Forty-Four
Warm sun streamed through the windows as Verice watched the nobles strip the bedding from the King’s bed with slow, careful movements.
It was probably for the best that he had been ‘invited’ to participate in this ceremony. It gave him time - lots of time - to consider his position.
Barathiel had caught him flat-footed and off-guard with his proposal that Verice abandon Palins, and marry to bring Tassinic into Valltera. Thank the Ancestors that Warna had stepped forward with her declaration. Verice’s only other course would have been to try to stall, and Barathiel had seemed fully determined to force the issue then and there.
The mattress had been stripped, and turned. They all stood waiting patiently as the fresh bedding was carried into the room.
King Barathiel was an absolute ruler, Verice knew that well enough. But he had a council of Earls who held a great deal of power. Not all of them would be pleased with Barathiel’s heavy-handed manner, for what force he brought to bear on Verice could easily be turned on them.
Verice cursed himself for his lapse in not knowing what was happening in Valltera much beyond the borders. He was an idiot, a thrice-times idiot, and he’d pay for that lack now. It would take time to locate the Earls, time to seek out their positions, and in the meantime Barathiel seemed determined to keep him here, a prisoner in the court.
Or Verice could risk the offense, open a portal, and defend himself from whatever happened next. But Tassinic could not stand against the concentrated might of Valltera.
And he couldn’t risk Warna.
Barathiel knew that, damn him.
They were spreading the first sheet now. Verice sighed stoically, and girded himself for a long afternoon.
Warna felt likea black stain in a sea of flowery dresses. The hallway that the handmaiden led her down was filled with elven maidens in their finery. But the handmaiden walked serenely on, and Warna followed dutifully as she wove a path through them.
One of the faella leaned forward as Warna passed. “Your veil, so lovely,” she whispered.
“Where did you find such quality?”
