Page 18 of Spring Guardians & Songbirds

“Do I presume my father dead?” Nesrin asked.

Mal snorted from his seat beside me, and all attention turned to him. “Had you not already? I did. Thirteen years ago. When he raised a battalion of Aura to kill her mother and siblings.”

Her face tightened, more with anger than despair. “He did what was right. What any one of us would have done to protect this kingdom. Didn’t she turn out to be the monster he thought her to be?”

I tensed.

Mal leaned on the table, a disdainful smirk twitching in his lips. I knew I should stop this, but after everything I don’t think I even wanted to. “Since you bear no regret, bear no bitterness, Nes. And mind you, your queen is no more a monster than your father is a saint.”

Her nostrils flared. “She is not my queen.”

I leaned back, fully irritated now. “How so? If she is mine, why is she not yours?”

Her mouth parted open in surprise. A reaction I could not grasp as there was not much to be surprised about considering there was an agreement for me to wed Snow. “After all of this, I thought your agreement was undoubtedly broken.”

“Agreement or no agreement, I did vow to her as she vowed to me. I am married to her and she is married to me. And that makes her your queen, this kingdom's queen. Mine as well. Not only will you respect her, but you will kneel to her.” Turning to Nesrin, I said, “I suggest you correct yourself next time, Councillor, don’t waste my breath on obvious matters.”

Her mouth parted, shadows of hurt reflected her hurt eyes.

“You might want to reconsider pursuing this argument further,” Larg intercepted before she had a chance to speak. “Not only did she marry my godson, but she fought away the Isjordians. Considering they went to such great lengths as to pursue an agreement, call dead their own princess and then attack with pretend to honour her death, I’d say Silas is preparing for something far more sinister. She done us a favour and we ought to not stare a gift horse in the mouth.”

I nodded and regarded all the faces of my court. “To end that note, if there are any more issues regarding my wife, I suggest you hand in your seat now because the only other way you will be leaving it will be by death. Issued by my hands.”

Shiver of fear crept up in the air and it tickled my nerves.

No one moved, but I knew most disagreed.

“Did they glue you to the chair, Nes? Need a hand or a push?” Mal provoked, but the Lyran born only glowered at an empty spot on the table, not answering and or moving.

After no objection, I nodded and turned to the Umbra Commander. “How is the situation on the Highwall, Triad?”

“Our guards are sharing duties with the Olympians and so far, none have been hostile. Kirkwall and Arynth seem to have received orders of retreat as there is not much movement in the cities and Isjordian guards are littering every corner of their own walls.” He sighed. “It seems Silas had not anticipated this outcome.”

“Let’s hope he is stunned enough to not try a second time,” my brother said.

I’d just settled down after issuing guard orders when Nia entered the meeting room looking like a dartboard for an Empath.

“I thought I have taught you better than that,” I said, standing to fill a glass with liquor. She was in Adriata now, and here more than anywhere else, emotion could be your biggest weakness and your best defence. And right now, Nia was a walking prey on my soil.

She swallowed nervously, her bloodshot eyes drifting to the floor. “It…it has been like this for a few days now.”

Alarm seized me and I went to her side, lowering a glass of water to her. “What is the matter? Are you unwell?”

She shook her head. “Nothing like that.” Squaring her shoulders, she straightened and so did her shadows. Good. “Would you call Malik in? This is for the both of you to hear.”

Not long after I’d sent word, the doors slammed open, and my very hungover brother dropped to a chair beside Nia. I’d make a note to check on him later, something was up with him, and he was hiding his shadows from me.

“More court dramatics?” he asked, sloppily filling himself a glass of water. “Let me guess. Betrayal? A royal affair? Friend betrays her queen for the enemy conqueror?”

Nia cringed. “You stink of alcohol.”

“And you don’t. Is the source of that misery your inability to have fun?”

Her expression hardened. “It is a time of war, Malik.”

He chuckled. “And pray tell, which side of it do you stand on? The lines are blurring by the second you keep sitting with my brother and I.”

“Mal, enough,” I warned.