Page 9 of His Noble Ruin

“I will certainly respect alliances to ensure a smooth transition.” The heir paused, glancing briefly between Pearce and Brennin’s eager friend in the front row. “Sir Pearce is the most experienced candidate, naturally.”

The young man in the front row stiffened at the heir’s response.

“Indeed. Thank you, Sir Brennin,” said Pearce, an ingratiating smile on his wrinkled face. “Question number three.”

“Excuse me.” I tapped the woman in front of me on the shoulder. “You’re asking a question, aren’t you?” I whispered.

“Yes. Why?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at my apron.

I tried to summon a friendly but convincing smile. “I’ll give you this bottle of wine if you ask this instead.” I held the folded paper toward her.

She looked down, shaking her head. “They already assigned me a question.”

“What? Who did?”

She shook her head and turned away.

I tapped her again. “Please. This is, uh, your new assignment.”

She hissed back at me. “Leave me alone, maid. It’s almost my turn.”

I looked back at the stage, realizing I’d missed the previous question.

“Question number four,” the First Immortal announced.

I ducked and slipped through the crowd, away from the woman, desperate not to be seen when everyone looked her way. I stopped by a marble pillar, reorienting myself while I peered across the room at journalist number eight. If I couldn’t get him to ask my question—which admittedly was just as manipulative as all the others I’d heard so far—I didn’t stand a chance of getting the heir where I needed him.

“Your mother, our dear queen, has unsurpassed experience and grace,” said the woman I’d unsuccessfully approached. “Have you considered delegating your reign to Imperatrix Brennin after you inherit the throne in order to keep Cambria stable?”

My jaw dropped at the brazen question. It created no doubt in my mind that someone was pulling strings. I’d come here expecting to make Graham Brennin my pawn, but I was beginning to see that he was already being knocked around a chessboard far bigger than my own making.

The heir looked at the woman who’d spoken, his brow furrowing as if he might’ve been making the same connections I was. “I will do everything in my power to keep Cambria stable.” For a moment, his posture faltered. He sighed and pushed his fingers through his hair, messing up the perfect line of his part before speaking so softly I could hardly hear him. “If that requires delegation, I will strive for the wisdom to make such a decision.”

I pulled my gaze away and squeezed through the crowd, heading for journalist number eight. When I got to his side, he scrutinized the bottle in my arms before looking up at me.

“Number eight,” I addressed him, my voice confident.

“Yes?” he asked.

“There’s been a mistake,” I said, handing him my paper. “They sent me to update your assignment.”

He unfolded the paper. “It’s a bit of an inconvenience to change it on such late notice,” he said under his breath.

“Of course. That’s why they sent this as well.” I held up the expensive wine so he could see its value, trying to steady my trembling hands.

He smiled and took it without hesitation. “I hoped you might say that.”

I gave him a small bow, then crept to the back of the room and waited while the next few questions were asked.

“Number seven,” the First Immortal called out.

“If you die without an heir of your own, the inheritance will pass to the Third House, which would be a great tragedy. When do you plan to marry and produce an heir so the Brennins may rule long into the future?”

I scoffed before I could stop myself. If this didn’t confirm that the queen had a hand in these questions, I don’t know what did.

“Well . . . soon, I suppose,” said Graham.

The crowd laughed.

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