Page 36 of Witch’s Heart

“No. He was taken to the dungeon for questioning.”

She looked thoughtful and perhaps even a little disappointed. “So, Mya thought you needed bodyguards?”

“In your absence, yes. Would you like the job?”

She regarded him, head cocked. He hated that he couldn’t read her expression when the darkness was close to the surface. “No.”

“No, you won’t protect me?” His eyebrows jumped up in mock surprise.

“No, I won’t follow you around like a lap dog. I have matters of my own to attend to.”

A surprised laugh fell from his chest. “Like what?”

“Like freeing you from that infernal portal, for a start,” she said. Warmth surged in his chest, knowing she refused to give up on him. “I’m off to the library.”

“Not looking like this, you’re not,” he growled, slapping her ass hard enough that she yelped and jerked against him. He wrapped his arms around her and snared her in a punishing kiss. Her chest was heaving by the time he released her.

“Be a good girl for me today. Come and find me before dinner so that I can fuck you.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“You will.” He left no room for argument in his tone. Offering her a final kiss on the forehead, he swept from the room.

Lola and Julian were waiting outside, along with his usual guards. Andrei was striding down the corridor, which meant he was already late for their council meeting.

“Have some food brought to my lady witch,” he commanded of a servant in passing. “And breakfast for myself—delivered to the council room.” The servant stammered and rushed off.

“There you are, Sire. Did you have time to read the missive?”

“Yes, and the council isn’t going to like it. Let’s go.”

He motioned with a nod to Lola and Julian and they took off at a clipped pace.

“The crown does not bow to the whims and wishes of the Citadel,” Lord Alan Karkas growled, slamming the missive on the table. He was the last to read it. The others already wore mixed expressions, from concern to outrage.

Alan Karkas was a textile mongol. While Raeria didn’t have the means to care for sheep or grow cotton—not anymore—it did have numerous mills along the coast. Conveniently, those raw materials were delivered at port, then efficiently turned into textiles that either went inland or back out on Luka Kipani’s ships.

“Perhaps we ought to attempt negotiations?” Haspel suggested, looking more nervous than the rest of them. His overland trade was the most at risk.

“They aren’t open to negotiations,” Rixon stated. “And I will not be handing over my crown.”

“Of that, we are in agreement,” said General Ralston, crossing his arms. Of anyone, it was Ralston he suspected for his recent assassination attempt. Why wouldn’t the general want him dead? After all, he’d already tried—and failed—to have Mina killed.

“Lord Holland.” He looked at the male. “You are strangely silent. Of anyone here, you have a great deal to gain, no?”

“Me, Your Majesty?” Holland shifted in his seat.

“Carth will need your Nebrine exports—now more than ever—if we are to make arrangements to purchase repellers for our settlements.”

“Oh, yes. But of course.”

“And what of the retaliation we might face in denying Skye?” Haspel asked.

“I am also concerned about that.” Lord Cecil Rowe crossed his arms. “I do not wish to test the might of the crown against that of the Citadel.”

“We have no choice,” said Ralston. “Besides, I highly doubt they are any match for our military.”

“They have magic!” Lord Rowe cried.