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He winked.
My nostrils flared as a rush of irritation swamped me.
The Prince’s smilewarmed.
“Good,” Claude said, and before I could take a seat in my own chair, he tugged me down,intohis lap. “I have a strong suspicion that I will be in need of her comfort during this conversation.”
Prince Thorne’s fingers stopped tapping. A fine shiver broke out over my skin as the candle flames rippled as if a wind had whipped into the hall, but there had been no such thing.
As soon as the staff had exited and the door closed, Prince Thorne spoke. “You appear . . . unnerved by the prospect of hosting us.”
“Just surprised. That is all.” Claude cleared his throat, tensing a bit. “I’m not at all displeased by the news.”
I glanced between the Hyhborn. I didn’t think anyone in the room believed that.
“I’m relieved to hear that,” Prince Thorne said. “I’m sure you’re aware of what is happening along the border with the Westlands. We’ve come to determine what course of action needs to be taken.”
“We have heard some news regarding this.” Claude kept an arm around my waist as he reached around, picking up his godsforsaken champagne.
Prince Thorne’s unflinching gaze made it hard to sit still. “The Westlands have amassed quite the army and it is believed that they will soon be marching across the Midlands. We suspect that the Princess of Visalia has her sights turned to Archwood and the Court of Primvera.”
My breath stalled in my lungs. A siege of Archwood? That was what Ramsey Ellis had feared, but to hear the Prince say it was something entirely different. My mouth dried, and I suddenly wished I could reach my champagne.
“But that isn’t the only development,” Lord Bastian stated. “There is the Iron Knights.”
“Yes, we’ve heard that they have possibly joined forces with the Westlands,” Claude said. “However, I’ve found that news to be most confounding. Vayne Beylen, who wants to see a lowborn on the throne, joining forces with the Westlands Hyhborn army? It makes little sense.”
“From what we’ve learned, Beylen has decided that his revolt is more likely to be accomplished through aiding the Westlands,” Commander Rhaziel shared.
Claude let out a strangled sort of laugh. “I understand the Court politics are usually none of our business,” he began.
“They are not,” Prince Thorne agreed.
“But whatever strife there is between the Hyhborn is involving us.” Claude downed the rest of his champagne. “What is the issue with the Princess of Visalia? What is the cause of this? I’m sure it’s complicated, but I should know what is driving the Westlands to jeopardize the safety of my home.”
“It’s actually not complicated,” Prince Thorne replied. “The Princess believes that it is time for a queen instead of a king to rule.”
My brows shot up as my lips parted. A queen instead of a king? There had never been one, not since time had started to be recorded— not since the Great War. Could there have been queens before then? Possibly?
“I think the lovely Lis may not be against such an idea,” Lord Bastian pointed out.
Prince Thorne inclined his head. “Do you think a queen would rule better simply because of the gender?”
“No,” I said without hesitation. “I don’t think it makes a difference.”
“And how would you feel if it were a lowborn who ruled?” Commander Rhaziel asked.
His question caught me off guard, and I swallowed.
“Your answer will go no further than this room and will be heard without judgment,” Prince Thorne advised. “Please. Share what you think.”
“I . . .” I cleared my throat, wondering exactly how I ended up being the one asked this question. Oh, yeah, my facial expressions, which likely had betrayed my thoughts. “Things could possibly be different if a lowborn ruled. There are more of us than Hyhborn, and logically, a lowborn would be better at understanding the needs of their own, but . . .”
“But?” Commander Rhaziel pressed, his stare just as hard.
“But it probably wouldn’t be better or worse,” I said. “You gain that kind of authority and wealth? You no longer represent the people, lowborn or Hyhborn, king or queen.”
“Interesting point,” Lord Bastian said, dragging his fingers along his mouth.
