The preferred messenger—Fayette—however, came with more baggage than Renard preferred: Menon, Laurent, and Collette.
Laurent had cleared his throat and was speaking before he’d even made it across the room, as slow as the ancient councilor was. “My king, I must strongly suggest that you release the Ardenian prince. Capturing and quartering him is an act of war.”
Under his burning skin, Renard’s anger flared anew. “Ardenia is innoposition to lecture me on acts of war. They brought their army to the conclave, or do you not recall?”
“They did that because of the threat of Geneva—”
“Whowehave now as well, as stars would have it.”
“My king,” Laurent continued, unfazed, “by rights, she should be extradited to Torrence for her crimes there.”
Renard scoffed; sarcasm was easily becoming his preferred cover for his ever-present fury. “Extradited towhere? The wolf cub has no palace. What’s he going to do, tie her to the Hand’s thumb until she withers to hide and bones? No.”
The ancient councilor wasn’t dissuaded from his argument. Perhaps it was spite that kept him alive. “It does not matter what he does with her, only that it is within our duties as members of the Sand and Sky to trade in prisoners.”
“That is whatthis letterwill do.” Renard shook the parchment, already sealed and prepared, at them. He shoved it into the gloved hands of his messenger. “It alerts Ardenia and Torrence of who sits within our dungeons.”
Renard gestured to Fayette, and the messenger all but ran out the door. When he was gone, the councilors continued their affront against the king’s choices.
“My king,” Menon stated with pinched brows and an aggrieved swoop of his shoulders, “Ferdinand is a member of the royal family and has done nothing wrong. We hold him unlawfully.”
“How do you know he did nothing wrong?” Frustration bit at his veins, Renard’s blood growing hotter with each passing admonishment, even as he chose to combat these old meddlers with sarcasm. Perhaps that approach would only last him so long. “I have at least twohundred men in my barracks who can account for the fact that it was Ferdinand’s dagger that killed the Pyrenee soldier who died in the fray.”
Menon’s face pinched to pedantic points. “His dagger was drawn because he was already under attack by the Warlord.”
That was correct. It was also true that Ferdinand didn’t throw the dagger. Geneva had. But it washisweapon. And the councilors hadn’t been there for his full debrief with Zabrin. Renard cocked a sharp brow. Questioning.“Was he? Was it?”
That shut them up.
“And,” the king continued, “isn’t it possible and even likely that Ferdinand and Geneva are actually working together, against Ardenia?”
They stared at him. Renard tilted his head.
“Ithink so. Which is exactly what I detailed in my letter to the queen.” In truth, he did think so—which was why he’d placed them in the same cell. “Amarande won’t know if she should be relieved or enraged, but either way she’ll want them both. And knowing the queen she won’t ask nicely.”
Old Laurent cleared his throat. “You intend to provoke Ardenia, my king?”
“No,I intend to lay out a series of facts and if Amarande can’t keep her sword in its sheath, that’s her problem. Attacking Pyrenee will be an assassin’s smile on her dreams of being queen outright, and she’ll likely take her beloved wolf cub down with her.” He grinned now, cold and cutting. “I don’t intend to bury Amarande, she’ll do it for me.”
A silence fell upon the room.
They had all been at King Sendoa’s funeral. They had all been at the wedding. They had all been at the conclave. And they all knew exactly how the queen responded to a direct attack on her independence and those she loved.
With a fight.
“My king, is that the ultimate intention?” Menon asked—bravely or stupidly. “To bring the Sand and Sky’s retribution to Ardenia and Torrence?”
The black skin beneath Renard’s fine clothes itched. The medikua’s knowing questions reverberating against his still-breathing chest.
What is it for you? True love? Pure hate? Intense fury? Kingly ambition? Unfinished business? Revenge?
Yes. Revenge was the goal.
Which meant suffering was the goal.
Renard would make Amarande and Luca suffer as much as he could before he left this world for good. And if the rest of the Sand and Sky suffered? So be it.
“Of course.”
