Terencia’s berry lips puckered with distaste. “Always such a wordsmith, Levin.”
Lev grinned. “Thank you, Empress. I appreciate that. No one’s told me that before.”
Terencia harrumphed.
“Father and Stepmother, perhaps you’d enjoy visits from feeders to allay the weariness of your journey?”
This, this was one of the things he hated about his parents the most. They turned him into a sycophant. Out of necessity, yes. His pandering protected his friends and his soldiers, ensured Junot continued to provide for their needs, however basic. But still, he hated every simpering word that spilled from his lips in their presence.
“Shall I arrange it?”
“Yes,” Junot said. “Send two for me.”
“Very well. And you, Stepmother?”
Behind her husband’s back, Terencia looked Baz up and down. “Send me two as well. Make sure they’re men.” She rolled the n.
“Of course.”
The feeders from Slake who’d remained behind at the castle were all female. Baz would have to seek male volunteers from the staff, who barely interacted with him, taking their commands instead from the castle itself.
Baz gave Lev a meaningful look.
Lev bowed. “If you’ll excuse me, my emperor. Empress. I’ll help see to your comforts.”
Junot took several imperious steps forward, during which Baz was careful not to glance at Cosette. The parvnit was vibrating with intention. Here was her chance to meet the man she idolized. But decorum demanded she not speak to the emperor unless he first spoke to her. And if Baz or one of the others didn’t introduce her, she was supposed to remain silent and unobtrusive.
Junot took another step away from her.
Her wings buzzed faster, bobbing her upward then back down in place.
Still, Junot continued walking. Terencia began to follow. Their retinue of thirteen pampered nobles examined Mauldrene’s shadows, thicker than centuries-old cobwebs, with abject disgust and wariness.
Junot glanced at Baz. What he saw in his face, Baz couldn’t be certain, but it was likely he hadn’t concealed his apprehension as well as he’d hoped.
Junot spun on the heel of one shiny, buckled boot. His cape twirled wide behind him, forcing everyone—including his wife—to bob out of its way or be smacked with it.
Baz’s breath stuck in his lungs.
“And who … are you?” Junot demanded of Cosette.
Chapter 3
The Crown of the Empire Rather Than Its Sword, and How Much Creepier Can One Castle Get?
At Junot’s direct address, Cosette gaped in surprise and brushed her blaring fuchsia hair from her face.
“I…”
Her wings buzzed. Her eyes darted to Baz.
As if she were an opponent at arms, he battled his overwhelming need to glare at her. He needed to impress upon her how severely displeased he would be if she were to reveal anything about his prisoner. He would threaten her, her family, her first-born, whatever it took.
But Terencia was watching him closely—of course she scorching was—as were her nobles. Terencia would probably keep his secret if she were to notice his tension, how very obviously he didn’t want Cosette to speak. He would pay for that kept secret, in ways he definitely wouldn’t want to, but to keep Junot from his prisoner, he would do it.
But the favored noblemen and -women who traveled with them? They would blab their suspicions in an instant. Their only loyalty was to courting the emperor’s favor, to their own ambitions.
All of them were fae, and many of them were sänglures. They would be able to single out his heartbeat. Some would be able to scent his emotions.
