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“I suppose that could work.”
“See? Zander accused me of always reaching for the sword first, but I’m suggesting we avoid a war. Wouldn’t he be shocked. I can be pragmatic, after all.”
His lips twist with grim amusement. “So you do not plan on marrying Tyree to Annika?”
“Perhaps I will. Perhaps not.” My sister is beautiful, and Tyree didn’t sneer at the idea, but he could have been imagining ways to snap her neck the second he has a chance. “Islor needs casters and, if these hangings continue for too long, we will also need mortals, ones not tainted by poison. Neilina’s scheming hasn’t gone all as planned, and both her children are now trapped within our borders. One is my prisoner. Having her son near the throne would be more advantageous to Neilina than him in pieces.” I wander to the map and pick up a random marker. “But it is a gamble.”
“As are all decisions made by a ruler.” Boaz’s unfriendly gaze wanders around the circular war room. “Your father would spend days at this table, toiling over the right decision, and then when he made it, he would doubt himself mercilessly.”
Mention of my father pricks my chest. “I recall.” Because I spent many of those days at this same table, disagreeing with his every move. Now I’m on the other side, and I feel his frustrations.
“But he always insisted it was best to choose a course and stick with it through the hurdles.”
“His choices have given Kettling too much influence and allowed Ybaris into our borders to kill him and destroy Islor. The hurdles feel insurmountable.” As king, his complacency and desire for diplomacy inspired too many mistakes. Still, I miss him. “I will follow this course of action until another one proves more beneficial to Islor, and then I will pivot without an ounce of regret.”
“It sounds like you have given it much thought.” He holds up the letter. “I will send this with our best riders immediately.”
“Without Adley’s knowledge.” The less information that snake has, the better.
Boaz grimaces at the name. He hates Lord Adley more than I do. But not as much as Zander does, I’m sure. How much my brother must regret not having that lord executed as his first order of business. “Of course. If that is all?”
“Yes.” The dull headache from earlier has traveled between my eyes where it sits, a constant irritant.
He’s halfway to the door when I blurt, “Wait.”
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“Have Sabrina sent to my chambers.” I’m in need of some respite in my life, even if only for a few short hours.
“Good evening, Your Highness.”
I lounge in a wing chair, watching my tributary saunter in. The fireplace blazes next to me, chasing away the dampness that clings to the air from the falling rain. “Sabrina, thank you for coming.”
“When you call, I come.” A coy smile curves her lips at the double meaning, earning my chuckle.
She always lightens my mood within moments of arrival, before I’ve even laid a hand on her. My tributary before Sabrina—Genevieve, whose blood was tainted the night of Ybaris’s attack—was also pleasant to look at and perfectly willing, but not as responsive as this one.
I sense Sabrina’s pulse racing, and it stirs my growing need on more than one front. The first time I was with her, I mistook her reaction for nervousness, until she pushed her gauzy white sleep dress off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. I realized then that it was excitement I was reading. Later, she admitted that it was the first time she had ever enjoyed her role as tributary. And I, in turn, enjoy her as much as any king can enjoy a transactional relationship with a mortal servant, while ignoring her aspirations. I sense them in all tributaries when they slink into my bed. Those delusions that they will be different from all those before them, that they will be special enough to win over my royal immortal heart, that I’ll break all the rules and choose only them.
But none of them have any clue what it means to be queen of Islor.
The guard who escorted her stops beside her, and Sabrina’s body tenses.
I groan. “Must we do this every time?”
“To ensure her blood is pure, Your Highness, yes,” he answers with forced patience. We go through this same song and dance every time Sabrina comes to my rooms.
I wave him off. “But Sabrina would never harm me.”
She shakes her head. “Never, Your Highness.”
The guard’s mouth twitches. “Captain Boaz says to remind His Highness that her blood can be tainted without her knowledge and that he’ll execute me if I don’t perform my duty.”
“We wouldn’t want you executed.” Maybe I should stop being a prick about it. Boaz can be overenthusiastic at times. He will put a blade through this guard for disobeying an order, and he won’t wait to hear my thoughts on the matter. “Be quick about it, though, if you will.” I’m already half undressed, several buttons of my tunic unfastened, my weapons cast aside.
