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He rounded on me. “Ah, and then of course, my lords, there’sthat.”
Ren’s eyes narrowed.
“A vote for Renato is a vote for a Temarian king consort,” Welzes sneered, and despite the disdain in his tone, my heart fluttered at the implication.
But I swallowed that shit down. This wasn’t the place for fuckinglove, let alone marriage.
All Ren had to do to negate Welzes’ accusation was announce his intentions to take a Quarehian spouse. Hell, he could probably declare a spontaneous engagement to anyone in the room, and I doubted they’d decline.
I was well used to him needing to be something different to his people than he was to me. He’d might have turned Astrid down but one didn’t mess foreign queens around: on the other hand, it would be easy enough for Ren to later wiggle his unfairly attractive ass out of a marriage proposal to one of his own court.
And expecting that bit of ruthless subterfuge, I stared in surprise when he cocked his head, smiled fondly in my direction, and said, "sí."
Not everyone was struck as happy or charmed by that answer as I was. There were some scoffs, some scowls – I caught Isobella’s dark glare from where her father had protectively tucked her behind him – and one long, low whistle from the gaggle of younger lords from my left that was either highly complimentary or highly insulting.
“Lying with the enemy,” Welzes murmured, clearly pleased with Ren’s admission. “Where does that leave your fickle loyalties, he who would be king? How could your people ever trust you to protect their interests over those of a foreign royal?”
“Interesting choice of words, Lukian.” Ren turned to the crowd, projecting his words to the farthest reaches of the hall. “And yet Nathanael is as Quarehian as you and I. He has bled for our country, fought for its peace and safety, pledged himself to it. Only yesterday, he risked his life and freedom to save fifty of our families and friends from being sent to the border to die pointlessly, and it is why he stands before us now, still bleeding for us, despite red not being his colour at fucking all.”
Liar.How many times had he revelled in turning my skin that exact shade, either by his words or his hands?
Even now, that thought sent a flush of entirely inappropriate heat through me, and I blamed it on watching my lover in his element. There was something incredibly attractive about Ren being his most competent self, weaving mastery over his audience with his speeches and sense of theatre.
And there were always so many hidden meanings to what he said. Like just now, revealing knowledge of my capture told me that they’d rescued Parvan from the cells, and relief over my guard’s fate washed through me.
As did an unexpected and comforting warmth: not as a result of embarrassment or interest this time, but the familiar sensation of healing magic.
I subtly glanced to the side to see Starling, still disguised as a man, brushing her elbow against the guard on my left as she pretended to scratch at her neck. The guard shivered and shook his head as if to clear it, seemingly feeling her Touch flow through him but not realising its source. I pressed my face into my shoulder as the magic knitted together the slit tendons and skin, trying not to make a noise.
“So Zidhan is right,” Ren continued. “If you choose me, you indeed choose Nathanael as well, for he has stood by my side this whole time and I will continue to do the same for him. Because that is loyalty. That is love.”
“And what I find incredibly curious,” he said, furrowing a brow as though he’d only just come to the realisation of whatever it was although I knew his sharp mind would have immediately picked up on it, “is that Welzes has spoken much of what my rule might look like, but not his own. Are we truly so afraid of unity with the north that we would choose anything but which brings that future closer?”
We,I noted. Despite it being unlikely he’d get the opportunity to vote himself, Ren had effortlessly slotted himself into camaraderie with his people, whereas Welzes had fostered his own exclusion with his use ofyouandyours.
“Because what I want for us is a place we can call home and not fear we will lose to our enemies the next day,” said Ren, his face softening into a smile. “Friends who will grow old with us and not be sent to the afterlife at the edge of a blade. Children who do not have to go through whatwe fucking did.”
There were a few side glances at that from the older men in the room, evidently wondering what someone as young as Ren could possibly have to say about it. But the fierceness in the set of his mouth and the weight of his gaze silenced them, and even not knowing what abuse Iván Aratorre had put his youngest son through, none dared to say a word.
“A place where spouses,” my prince added, looking at me now, “are chosen for love not obligation, where borders are just lines on a map, and where your body does not define you.Thatis our Quareh.”
*
Chapter Forty-Eight
Perhaps in Máros, a speech like mine wouldn’t have meant much.
But here, in the northern province of Quareh, these lords had suffered from the conflict my father had stirred up with Mazekhstam during his rule. They’d lost countless children to the border skirmishes, had their lands ruined and bloodied, risked their own lives whenever they returned to their estates.
And then there were those who had seen their daughters abused and mistreated by men, even as they strove to be better husbands to their wives. Ones who had fallen in love with servants or villagers but known it was doomed before it began. People who were other than what they had been born as, and for all of them, I wanted to offer a hope that things didn’t have to be as they were before.
As Welzes wanted to keep them, having the same power-hungry, misogynistic, selfish inclinations as the previous king.
As the court began to mutter among itself, reflecting on what we’d both promised them, I wandered over to where the two guards were still daring to hold onto my wildcat, their fingers digging into his shoulders and forearms as he strained against them.
“You can let go of my man now,” I said, my tone making it clear that it wasn’t a suggestion.
“I would expect you’d rather they didn’t,” drawled Welzes, and I seethed at the satisfaction in his voice as he relished getting to hurt me like this. How pleased he must have been to make Mathias bleed, knowing the pain would be felt twice over once I learned of it. “They’re the only thing keeping him upright.”
