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Ria smiled. “I created the court dress while I was pregnant, mostly during the nights I couldn’t sleep for the weight of carrying Elna, but I didn’t add the magic until a few days ago. The others were simple enough to make quickly.”
Tes swallowed against the lump in her throat. “I…don’t think anyone has ever made me something as special as this. Formeas a person, I mean, rather than for a princess who has to be served. I can only thank you again.”
“I was happy to do it.” Ria gave her a quick, unexpected hug before pulling back to refold the gowns. “You’re both friend and family.”
The little crack that formed in her heart ached like pain, but it wasn’t born of betrayal. It was hope—and the threat of an openness Tes rarely let herself fathom. All this from someone she’d wronged upon their first meeting, while the people whoshouldhave shown Tes love from birth had never cared about her at all. It was almost too much to process.
Ria seemed to understand, but of course, she would. Her own father had been a terrible, abusive man who’d forced her to use her magic in his tailor’s shop. Tes remembered well how much Ria had struggled to accept love from Toren and Mehl. So it was no surprise that the young queen repacked the trunk without a word while Tes fought to regain control, and she said not a word about Tes’s strange reaction after.
Together, they walked to the nursery, the conversation shifting to their babies.
Ria was a true friend, indeed.
Ber hadthe dubious fortune of being seated beside the dignitary he’d intended to follow the night before. The man,who introduced himself as Lord Orpem, was as odious at conversation as yesterday’s sordid gaze had suggested. With each passing moment, Ber became more convinced that the man was the same one who’d attacked the musician. He need only confirm it, and an obnoxious evening could become a lucky one.
He couldn’t help Kestreh now, but he could try for a bit of revenge in her name.
As the servants cleared the plates for dessert, Ber smiled at Orpem. “I do hope you enjoyed last evening’s entertainments.”
“Oh yes,” the man answered, a sick gleam entering his gaze. “There was one sweet little musician I particularly enjoyed. I brought her to my suite for additional entertainment, which my ailing wife surely appreciated.”
Ber’s hand clenched beneath the table. There was every chance that the lady’s “ailment” was her husband’s abuse. “Your wife was able to watch the entertainment, then?” he asked, hoping the depths of his suspicions weren’t confirmed.
“I made sure she could see every moment,” Orpem replied slyly. “I wouldn’t want her to be neglected.”
Gods above. At least they were between courses so he didn’t have to try to choke down food. Those bards had said that Kestreh would need a week’s healing to recover, and the man’s wife had been forced to watch her husband… Ber took a gulp of wine and prayed it numbed his emotions before he could vomit it back up.
For the bards to have heard at all, it must have been horrific. Here, bards and musicians were related trades, but since the former also trained in storytelling and play-acting, they’d separated over time into separate guilds. Bards tended to hail from wealthy families, even sometimes from distant nobility, so they didn’t always take note of their less fortunate counterparts. They also rarely agreed to work at the palace, and as such were less likely to be abused.
“I’ve heard that my father has commissioned a full bard or two for tonight’s entertainment,” Ber said. At least they would be slightly less vulnerable. “They’ve more range and status than musicians and may be less willing to giveprivateperformances. I fear your wife might be disappointed this time.”
A scowl flickered across the lord’s face, but arrogance quickly replaced it. “I have my ways to convince them. They’re still peasants, after all.”
He didn’t correct the dignitary’s mistaken assumption about the status of Centoi’s bards. All the better for the man to run afoul of some minor noble family, provided Ber didn’t manage to destroy him first. Too bad he couldn’t simply kill the rotten bastard.
If Ber could dare to use the full force of his rank, he would stab Orpem in the throat with his dinner knife and send the corpse back to Vorwen with a warning to their king to choose better dignitaries. Sadly, he would have to find a more subtle way to deal with the problem. He couldn’t bear to hear of another person hurt by the vile lord.
Ber mustered as much false cheer as he was able. “You seem to be a man of discerning tastes. How about we tour the entertainments together tonight? If the bards aren’t cooperative, I know of a young mage who might suffice.”
Lord Orpem studied him carefully, but he didn’t dare to reject the Crown Prince no matter what he found in Ber’s expression. “I would be honored, Your Highness.”
“Fabulous,” Ber replied. “I can hardly wait for the final course.”
For he did indeed know a young mage who performed illusions in the back corner of the gardens. Araxa was a clever woman. After the second time Ber had deflected unsavory attention from her, she’d quietly thanked him the next day, an open acknowledgement no other had given. She’dbecome something of an ally over the years, enough that he’d coordinated with her telepathically a time or two.
Suddenly, Ber had the perfect idea for how to break a light globe. With the mage’s help, it would meet its shattered fate atop Lord Orpem’s wretched head.
Chapter 17
Itch
For the tenth time in as many minutes, Ber reminded himself that he couldn’t stab Lord Orpem in the heart and call it a day. Or perhaps not the heart—the man needed removal of certain parts decidedly farther south. Parts that would be easy to find, considering how Orpem flaunted his erection in front of the bard he was currently harassing.
“I’m happy to commission a…private performance,” Orpem said, his true meaning impossible to miss. “I pay well enough to please those of the lower classes.”
The bard looked up from the lute strings she’d been adjusting. “I’m afraid you mistake our customs, my lord. My grandmother, the Countess Verferd, sees me well appointed on my travels. I only play here tonight as a favor to her, since I’m usually too far afield for her to see me perform. I wouldn’t think of accepting another job.”
At the aghast look on Orpem’s face, Ber rubbed an imaginary itch on his nose, hiding the smile he couldn’t quite suppress. Fortunately, he managed to gain control of himself before the lord noticed. Orpem stumbled over his excuses and prompted Ber forward along path. This was the dignitary’s third pointedrebuff, but it was the first by a noble. It had clearly shaken him worse than being rejected by commoners.
