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It was a good story, but Baris wasn’t convinced. “All this because you felt I insulted your grandmother’s honor.”
“Your house is an insult,” Des snapped, then laughed. “Frostwing is as old and noble as Shadowmark. Older. You know, it’s ill fortune that you have the crown. Frostwings have always been cursed with shit luck.”
Baris knew the legend. Mariol Frostwing, the three-day king. Crowned under conditions that were suspicious at best, Mariol defended his claim against two rival houses. He successfully faced one opponent and would have repelled the second, the Shadowmark, if not for a series of broken equipment, bad weather, and illness. “That was centuries ago.”
“So my family must always beg for scraps from House Shadowmark?” Des asked.
There was no reasoning with him. Baris had heard enough.
“I want to retire,” Raelle said, her voice patient. “I’m tired. I deserve to rest.”
“You deserve to be queen!”
“That would never happen.”
“It would if he mated Nia, which he would have if it wasn’t for that human,” Des said, his voice full of contempt. “They’re engaged, you know.”
Raelle gasped in surprise. “Your Majesty, that’s?—”
“A phenomenally bad choice,” Des said.
“Enough,” Baris said, cutting off the male. “Take him into custody.”
Raelle tugged on Baris’ arm. “What will happen to him?”
“He’s lucky no one was killed, but he must stand trial for the sabotage. The courts will decide his fate.”
An eternity later, Baris completed the necessary tasks. Des was escorted into a holding cell. Video footage from attending media was seized. Palace security footage was erased. Reporters who expected to chronicle the details of a society event—who attended, what they wore, and so on—got a far more exciting story.
Baris issued a brief statement—an unfortunate accident—to quell reports of rampaging humans ruining the councilor’s party. The truth, in this instance, was unnecessary, and he wished to avoid shaming the Frostwing house. Raelle returned to the party, supporting the fiction that the incident was an accident.
Nia’s communications and messages would have to be examined in case she had colluded with her brother, but that was a task for tomorrow.
Finally, after an eternity, Baris went to Lenore.
LENORE
An eternity later, Lenore was still in jail, and Lydia snoozed and drooled on her shoulder. Fun times.
The longer she sat, the more she worried. Not that she expected Baris to ride in and save the day but come on. She felt ignored. Out of sight, out of mind. And the longer she sat out of Baris’ sight, the more he might realize how much easier his life would be if she stayed out of sight. Not that she feared he’d lock her away like some fairytale villain, but…
No buts. Absolutely no one was getting locked in a tower.
Forgotten in a jail cell, though, that seemed more and more likely.
Trouble sent assuring calm, wordless and soothing.
“I don’t know why you’re so chill. You’ll be locked in a tower, too,” she muttered. Still, knowing she wasn’t alone helped. Her baseless fears were just that, baseless, but stress weighed on her. Work kept her too busy to worry, which was a terribly unhealthy way to cope, and now that she couldn’t keep busy, she had nothing. The constant media coverage, the academy board’s not-so-subtle suggestion that she quit, the open dislike from Lady Raelle, and now this. Anyone would be freaking out.
Doors opened at the end of the corridor, and voices drifted down. Lenore couldn’t see what was happening, but it sounded big. Lots of footsteps and voices.
Lenore shook Lydia awake. “Leave me alone,” she complained.
“We’ve got company.”
Guards marched a man past their cell. Lenore recognized him as Baris’ assistant, Des. The man sneered at Lenore as he passed, malice written all over his face.
Soon, Baris was at the cell door with Harol and Kenth. Baris looked furious.
