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“We were wondering if there have been any recent developments regarding Dwellen-Naenden relations.”
I blink, swallowing as I refocus my attention on the present, but the male across the table cuts me off.
“Yes, we’re all wondering just what could possibly be delaying the return of your husband and the Naenden king.”
From the tone of Casper Thornwall’s voice, I’m guessing he’s not wondering as much as he is assuming.
Casper Thornwall is Evander’s cousin, the son of King Marken’s sister. He’s fae, too, meaning he’s beautiful, but there’s something sickeningly perfect about his features. He’s almost dizzying to look at, with all the straight lines: the bridge of his nose, his jawline, even the way he styles his hair slicked back. Casper has Evander’s coloring, tanned skin and turquoise eyes, which makes me irrationally angry. I don’t particularly like the fact that looking at Casper reminds me of Evander.
I trace my fingers around a knob at the base of the oaken table at which we sit. I found the little knob the first time I attended one of these meetings, and it’s been a comfort to me ever since.
“We’ve yet to receive contact from my husband and the King of Naenden,” I say, measuring my words. “It seems most logical to assume their travel is delayed due to the winter storm that recently hit Mystral.”
A cruel smile slashes across Casper’s mouth. “Yes, I’m sure that’s what my cousin is up to. Trying desperately to get back home to his wife. Now, if you had asked me a year ago what I thought the cause of Prince Evander’s delay would be…” Casper whistles, earning several hoots and chuckles from the other advisors stationed at the table.
They like to do this. Like to imply that Evander is off warming the beds of prostitutes, his love for me quenched by nothing more than the passing of a few months.
That’s fine.
Their claims would probably bother me more if I doubted what Evander was up to, but I don’t. The only reason they feel the need to mock my marriage is that they’re jealous of my relationship with King Marken.
Never mind that I would gladly pawn off the responsibility of having to interact with Marken if I could.
That, and I get the impression Casper considered himself next in line for the throne before I came along. I think he hoped that, since Marken possesses such hatred for his two living children, he would eventually decide his favorite nephew was a better fit for ruling the kingdom.
Poor Casper.
I ignore him, turning my attention to Marken. “There’s still concern regarding the Queen of Mystral’s involvement with the Rip.”
Before the king can respond, Casper snorts. “The supposed Rip.”
I address Evander’s cousin through my teeth. “The King and Queen of Naenden can attest to the Rip’s authenticity.”
“Are we really going to trust what the Queen of Naenden thinks she sees with that one eye of hers?” asks Casper.
Never in my life have I witnessed such a self-satisfied grin on the face of someone so idiotic.
“Pray tell, how do you think eyes work?” I ask, never quite prepared for the conversations I’m subjected to when Casper occupies the room.
“Enough,” says Marken, though he directs his statement more to Casper, whose mouth is open with a retort, than to me. “We’ll await news from my son before we come to hasty conclusions regarding another kingdom’s monarch.”
And to think everyone else believes Marken actually listens to me.
“There’s another matter to discuss, of course,” says Casper, looking about the table at the other advisors, who are all nodding their heads.
I suppose this means there was a pre-meeting meeting I wasn’t invited to.
Marken sighs. “And that is?”
“What should be done in the event the Heir of Dwellen does not return.”
Casper has the gall to fake sobriety as he discusses the possibility of my husband’s death.
I know Casper is goading me, but for once, I let it go without rebuke. My stomach flips over inside me at the idea that something has happened to Evander. It’s a place I haven’t allowed my mind to go, not with everything else I’ve been processing.
If Marken is upset by the idea that harm might have befallen his son, he doesn’t show it. He simply says, as if we’re discussing this morning’s breakfast, “You are aware that, in the event that Evander perishes with no legitimate heir of his own, the throne would go to you, Casper.”
And with the way Casper’s eely gaze slips over to meet mine, I have the sneaking suspicion Casper is already aware of this.
