Page 4 of Queen of War and Ruin

“So did you,” he replied. “Now, eat something. I swear, they can hear your stomach growling all the way in Vsenrog.”

He stands up, and I lean forward to grab the tray.

“You would have made a good king,” I tell him, as he turns toward the door.

The prince snorts. “I thank the gods every day that I didn’t have to test that.”

I grab a piece of bacon, shove it in my mouth, and try not to groan with pleasure. After days of stolen, half-ripe peas and tiny radishes, this is pure bliss. Prince Zarek stops at the door and turns back to me.

“Oh,” he says. “Go visit your wife.”

I snort, almost choke, and force myself to swallow what’s in my mouth.

“She’s asking for you,” he adds. “And, listen, I know what you’re going through. What you’re both going through. It’s easier to go through it together.”

Oh. The blood, of course. The potion that horrible son of a bitch gave her that made her bleed for days. The prince must think she had a miscarriage. Hells, everyone here must think she just lost a pregnancy.

But that doesn’t change the truth. I swallow hard. The bacon shifts uneasily in my gut.

“Technically,” I admit, although the words scrape the inside of my throat, “she’s your wife.”

He laughs. “Oh, really?”

“The marriage contract is for Zarek,” I say. “The prince of Dungal.”

My gut seizes. Suddenly, I want to ask him for more wine. Preferably enough to drown myself.

“I’m sure Zoe would have some choice words in response to that,” he replies.

“Well, legally⁠—”

“Oh, shut up,” he says, and there he is, that bossy little prince I remember from my childhood. “Stop being an idiot. You think that woman wants to see me? You think if I walk in there and introduce myself as her legal husband, she’ll do anything other than punch me in the face?”

He’s smiling again, like there’s a big joke and I’m not in on it.

“Go see your wife,” he says again as he opens the door. Sunlight floods the room once more. “Or I’m going to bring her here to see you.”

“Fine,” I mutter. “You don’t need to threaten me.”

He grins as he closes the door behind him. I don’t remember him smiling like that as a kid. Hells, his mother and father never smiled, not that I saw.

Maybe that’s what living outside of a palace does, I realize with a strange sort of pang deep in my chest.

Maybe I would have smiled like that too.

Chapter 3

Lilias

UNDER YOUR NAME

“Oh,” I say, under my breath. And then I shut my mouth before I can embarrass myself.

The woman, Agnes, came back this afternoon, bringing lunch, and when I’d finished eating, she told me I should go for a little walk to build my strength, only she phrased it in a way that made it sound like I didn’t have much of a choice. Would I like to go to the garden or the lake, she’d asked.

I said the garden, picturing the emerald lawns and elegant statuary of the Vsenrog castle. Or the smaller walled gardens of Marion, with their roses and lilacs. Agnes smiled, took my arm, and led me here.

The garden. Of course. I force my lips to twist into a smile as I stare at rows and rows of vegetables. It’s warm in the sun, and the slight breeze ruffles the leaves of plants I can’t identify.