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"You look far too smug," I tease her.
"It was just luck," she says humbly. The original hand might be luck, but her play was better than expected. "It's nice to have some money, in any event."
"What for?" Vess asks before I get the chance.
Rhea shrugs. "I don't know.Things. Street food, clothing I actually pick, a drink out of doors. I was clothed and fed back—" She clears her throat, not wanting to betray her friends, although Alrion has already given me every single detail about the tower of spies. "Where I was, but we didn't get paid."
I frown. They didn't even pay her?
"And here, I might have some food and some…" she winces, looking down at her dress. "Covering? But A little independence wouldn't hurt. Maybe I can bribe Mir into letting me wear something I like."
"A tailor will come to see to your needs." I intended to order her wardrobe, but I find myself saying, "You can tell him what you're after. Ten silvers won't get you very far as far as clothing is concerned, but anyone working for me gets a fair wage. As will you, as my consort."
I won our wager, but she was interested in the benefits, regardless of the outcome of the bet, even before knowing she'd get paid for her position.How else would she be able to plot her escape—or her second murder attempt—with her little friends?
She shakes her head. "I'm not a whore. I don't get paid for sex."
I lick the edge of her ear. "Sex is happening regardless of your position, darling Rhea. You'll get a wage for service to Nyxar as anyone around this table does—even him." I tilt my chin to Rath, who inclines his head.
"You pay your councilors fairly."
"Since when is she to be your consort?" Lark asks, deceptively cheerful.
"Today. Our acquaintance spins over the course of a rather short period—everything happened either today or yesterday," I jest. My general rolls her eyes. "She's perfect for the job, Lark, and you know it."
"Mmhmm. And you're not thinking with your crotch at all."
"I am, which is why she works." I stare at her pointedly, and she lowers her lashes in understanding.
We all know I need an heir.
"So, we have a union to look forward to. When do you plan on linking hands?"
"The sooner the better."Before she changes her mind, before I have to fuck another half-dozen princesses.
"Well, in that case, why not celebrate it at my home?” Rath offers.“You plan to come on your way back up, yes? It is, after all, the start of autumn. We'll prepare a magnificent ceremony.”
I can't decide his angle. Until today, he was far from friendly, and he's never extended an invitation to his land—though I could have visited when I wanted. Rhea's asshole's a thing of wonder, but half an hour of rutting it can't have turned him patriotic. He has an end game.
I'm fighting too many enemies on too many fronts, and I can't afford to count him as one of them, so I don't have a choice but to lift my flagon and smile.
It’s likely another trap poised to spring, but I only smile brightly. “An autumn wedding in Autumn.”
“A wedding?” Rhea practically screeches.
That was one step too far for her.
“What do you think consorts are?” Vessorian sounds exasperated.
“One step below a wife, a thousand above everyone else,” Silver says.
“We can’t get married,” Rhea protests. “That’s ridiculous.”
“You won’t.” My advisor inclines his head. “You’ll be united by the laws of the land, but not in the eyes of the gods. It’s not technically a marriage.”
“Well, it sure as hells sounds very close to one!”
I chuckle against her chest. “You forget, darling Rhea. You’ve gambled it away, and lost.”
