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“I await the answer,” I calmly reminded her, hoping my lack of concern for the others only further emphasized my position of superior power.
After a few inarticulate sputters from Polera, Loriela interrupted her friend. “I just said that the king’s charity case was coming over to check out the competition.”
Opal gasped at the same time as Marylyn. A smattering of snickers went through the rest of the group. Polera eyed me warily, but Loriela lifted her chin defiantly as she met my gaze. She was bold as a hardened bully accustomed to getting her way through sheer intimidation. She meant to brazenly defy me into submission.
“What competition?” I asked, meeting the elven woman’s glare with placid calm. Beneath it, I trembled with anger and a small measure of uncertainty. No matter what Emrys said, I was still only just a human, and a weak one at that.
“For your husband’s affections.” A slight curl of Loriela’s lip twisted her expression so that the façade of beauty slipped for a second before she composed her features again into a mask of superiority. “You can’t give him what he needs, and everyone knows he only married you to escape the curse. Only a short matter of time and you will be dead, and he will need a proper wife—one of his own species.” The sneer reemerged for a moment. “A mere human can’t give him the heirs he needs.”
I knew that the moment had come to stake my claim and act as I meant to go on in public. If I didn’t, I would lose what little power I had. Drawing confidence from my husband’s clear affection, I regarded her coldly. “Be wary. You show your ignorance.”
She snorted. “My father has already begun negotiations. I will marry the king before you are cold in your grave.”
“We have exchanged lifeforces,” I informed her. The temptation to call her a child was strong, but I resisted. I suspected she was much older than I, despite her behavior. “And both Lord Whispiers’ rapidly growing families more than refute your claims of my inability to give Emrys an heir.”
“Ah, but they won’t be full-blooded elves.” Her tone clearly communicated they would be inferior. “Just you wait, imposter. I will get into his bed, and after you are dead, my father will see my children declared heirs. It isn’t as though you can stop me once I am one of your ladies-in-waiting. There are plenty of secret places.”
I marveled at her foolishness. If I had been less confident in my husband’s affections, I might’ve been intimidated. My fingers caressed Sable’s ears.
Without breaking eye contact with Loriela, I addressed my elf companion. “Lady Channing, are there constraints on whom I may or may not include in my ladies-in-waiting? Must I accept someone on political connections alone?”
Opal readily replied, “No constraints, my queen.” I detected a hint of amusement in her tone.
“Lady Marylyn?” I turned my back on Loriela and addressed the girl on my right. Based on her widened eyes to her rigid back, I had clearly startled her. I suspected she didn’t know what to expect from me. The abuse that had been directed toward her before my arrival had distracted her tormentor had probably made her wary.
I extended a hand toward her with a smile. She touched my fingers, more likely out of habit than anything else. Sable came around to regard her as though assessing if she was a threat. Thankfully, my Grimm didn’t react.
“Are you staying as a guest after the festivities?”
Marylyn nodded, still wide-eyed.
“Delightful.” I offered a wide smile and squeezed her fingers in reassurance. “Would you be willing to attend me during the afternoon on the morrow? I am planning to inspect the southern gardens and would enjoy some company.”
“I w-would be delighted to, my queen.” She bobbed a curtsey. “Thank you.”
“Tomorrow, then.” I offered her a parting smile and departed the group, not bothering to glance at the rest of the gathered elves.
Keeping my head high, I fixed my gaze on my goal, the gardens. My heart rate remained steady and none of my usual precursors to a health incident appeared, but I found myself in desperate need of an escape. The gardens offered a retreat, and a moment in the chill of the outdoors would cool my heated cheeks.
“I find I need a respite.”
“Understandable, my queen,” Opal agreed as we moved toward the potential relief of the night air in the gardens.
~~~~~
Emrys
My companions’ conversation had degraded into a full-fledged argument. The advisor of magic argued for a pragmatic study of how magus lamias drained magic, while one of the most outspoken members on the council for defense argued that an in-depth study would only encourage more experimentation.
Personally, I sided with the pragmatic study side, but the argument was moot since I had already authorized and funded an ongoing examination a few months before the curse struck. Given the events since the breaking, I hadn’t personally spoken with the fae doing the study, but Illeron maintained contact. They were some of the experts that suspected I hadn’t regained my connection with my birthright yet.
I grimaced into my glass. Not that the knowledge had helped me much. The grove around the orb continued to decay and my almost daily visits wore down my hope that the connection would manifest again.
“My king?” A soft, feminine voice pulled me from my musings. Lady Channing stood at my elbow, eyeing the arguing men warily. “The queen—”
I signaled for her to be silent. “Excuse me,” I said, nodding to the group. “I am needed elsewhere.” Then, catching Lady Channing’s elbow, I guided her to the side, setting a privacy spell over our conversation as we walked.
“Is Kate well?”
