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Greyson shrugged. “Tis the nature of kings. However, I would hope that you would listen to good counsel.” His eyes narrowed as he studied Kent across the table. “You will still have to acknowledge your father…the man who poisoned your mother.”
Kent’s expression darkened. “And set bounty hunters after her.”
“And had her people—your people—murdered to cover up his indiscretion.”
“You are not helping,” Lady Lyra protested.
Lord Greyson pinned Kent with his dark, unflinching gaze. “He needs to face it, Lyra. It is the ugly truth, and stepping into the light, he will be dragging it out of the shadows with him. People are going to want to know how he came to be. You know how the courtiers love all the gritty, indecent details.”
A weary sadness fell over Lady Lyra’s lovely features. “I am aware. That doesn’t mean he needs to accept it now. Give him time to adjust. Kent and Rue have been through a whirlwind of revelations. They need time to breathe before you force such a major decision on either of them.”
Greyson’s grim expression softened as he gazed over at his wife. “He might not have time to process all that has come to light. Rumors of three other potential heirs have been circulating. Tomorrow I must leave to investigate a fourth potential heir.” He took a bite of his meal. “It will give him time to process and decide how committed he is to this course before we move forward.”
“Kent has a legitimate claim then?” I asked.
“He does. And I will sponsor him, should he wish to act on that claim. What I will not do is back a claimant who will abandon his people before the throne is taken. I have stomached all the wishy-washy leadership I can manage in the current king. If Kent wants the throne, I will see he gets it. If he doesn’t, then I will continue my search and find a reasonable fake I can pass off as the true heir.” Greyson stabbed a vegetable with a fork.
“Perhaps you will find another true heir,” I suggested.
Greyson leveled his unnerving stare at me. “There are no genuine alternatives. There is only one gap of time when the king could’ve fathered a child outside his marriage and that man—” He gestured sharply with his spoon toward Kent without breaking eye contact with me. “—that man was the product.”
“Then why investigate the other claims?” I asked.
“It is the only way to prove them false.”
“Also,” Lady Lyra added with a soft smile, “he cannot rest until his commission is fulfilled. The king’s council designated him as the official overseer in the search for the heir. All claimants must come through him.”
“And be dealt with afterwards by me,” the Dullahan added grimly. His discomfort gathered around him much like his shadows had when we first met him. “Eat. Don’t ignore an empty stomach. Both of you begin your training this evening.”
“Training?” I asked, suddenly alarmed. No one had mentioned anything about training.
“Yes.” Lord Greyson filled his spoon with a creamy-looking dessert. “Both of you need an intense course in court etiquette. Plus, Lord Kent needs to learn a great deal about how our government functions, his role in the Unseelie bureaucracy, and a high level of our political history and culture at the bare minimum.”
“But why me?” I asked.
Lord Greyson raised his impressive eyebrows. “So he has not told you yet. He insisted you come with us to the capital when he makes his claim for the throne.” His sharp gaze flicked back and forth between me and Kent sitting silently beside me. “I suggest you speak to him regarding his motivations. He hasn’t spoken of them to me. Yet.” He emphasized the last word heavily.
Kent didn’t exactly flinch, but I felt an emotional wall form between us. I suspected I would not get an answer from him either—yet.
Chapter Nine
Rue
So many people, so many emotions, so many motives, my head ached with them all. A maid fumed about something as she brought in the children’s meals. A few choice words and the children’s joy as they played turned to tears of disappointment. The maid who cleaned out the fireplace and laid the new fire in the morning kept up a complaint discourse with Astra every morning. Then, the fae who brought new gowns for Mela and I chattered the whole time we dressed, gossiping about the staff in the undercroft.
My head filled with too much input, but I had no occupation to pour all the pent-up emotions into. Before, I would channel all the absorbed emotion into scrubbing the tavern floor or scraping tabletops, but here I had no outlet.
With Kent occupied preparing for his new role and Mela completely absorbed with her new friends, I found myself lost among the bustling household. Servants brought me food, saw to my needs—despite my assurances I could dress and tend to myself—and then disappeared into the depths of the grand house.
And what a house! Corridors wider than my bedroom in the foundling home stretched endlessly, offering passage to room upon stately room full of furniture, drapery, and trimmings that required so much effort to clean. I wondered how the staff kept up with the upkeep.
Mela accepted the assurances of the staff that she need not worry about the mess she made. With childish abandon, she tumbled and chased Heath and Jas among elegant tables supporting delicate glass ornaments and sculptures. When a sculpture tumbled to the lush carpet, the nursery maids were quick to assure Mela that all was still well.
I was not so eager to accept their assurances. Surely someone somewhere was keeping a tally of our cost. Food, clothing, and attendants’ salaries—I had spent my whole life justifying my existence, paying my way, and now the burden of them all weighed on me.
“Is there not some occupation that I might take up to offset my cost?” I asked Lady Lyra at the noon meal two days after our arrival. “I am not used to idleness or accepting so much without offering something to balance the scales.”
We were dining alone in the conservatory, my favorite room in the house. The welcome sensation of exuberant life in the surrounding plants usually bolstered my mood, but this day it hadn’t eased the sense of foreboding that pressed in on me.
