A Queen of Thieves & Chaos (Fate & Flame, #3)

“I was only kidding.” She sniffs, her disappointment palpable.

“Of course. I never doubted it.” The more time I spend with Saoirse, the more I see why Zander would choose our parents’ murderer over her. Zander’s heart has always bled for Islor’s mortals, and it’s clear Saoirse only tolerates them as much as she needs them to survive and dress well. My heart doesn’t bleed in the same way as my brother’s, but I’m not vicious. “Anything else?”

“The assembly is gathering.”

“I’m aware.” The dull hum of voices carries as Islor’s lords and ladies gather in the throne room. “Was there anything else you wished to discuss?” Or can we end this unpleasant exchange immediately?

“Given all that Islor has faced since last Hudem and the horrors we are facing still due to Ybaris’s treachery, I think it wise to demonstrate a united front between Cirilea and Kettling.”

“Isn’t that the purpose of our marriage?” I drawl, feigning humor where I feel none. Kettling may be a city, but it steers the entire eastern side of Islor, where Adley has been allowed to forge his own alliances for too long. Another mistake of my father’s making.

“Time is of the essence, though.” Her black eyes dissect my face, attempting to read me. “Your brother did not wait for tradition to seat her on the throne.”

So that’s what this is about. Saoirse wishes to use Zander’s mistake as a precedent. She doesn’t want to play queen in weeks or days. She wants to be queen now. The day after we announced our betrothal, she attempted to move her things into the queen’s quarters, which I refused, not wanting her so close to where I sleep. Now this. I should have seen it coming.

“Returning to Islor’s traditions would be beneficial for all,” I say slowly.

“You don’t think the spirits of Islor’s lords and ladies would benefit from seeing us together, Atticus?” She edges in until she’s inches away, tipping her head back to flash me a flirtatious smile. It’s the first time she’s ever addressed me by my name, and she does it with a sultry tone meant to sway me.

My cock doesn’t so much as twitch.

I chuckle, a mask for the urge to grind my teeth. “Islor’s lords’ and ladies’ spirits show no signs of suffering.” At least not those lined up to see how they can benefit from this spontaneous change of ruler. I step away, putting distance between us as I return my focus to the map. “You will have plenty of time to listen to grievances after Hudem. Until then, I would think you should be more concerned with keeping up to date with the goings-on in your city. There is a poison ripping through Islor, after all.” And if there was a city of mortals who wished their keepers dead, surely it would be Kettling.

“It is you who insisted Father and I stay within Cirilea!”

Because enemies should be kept close. “Yes, but I would have expected you to be consumed by frantically writing letters to the city wards during this horrific time to ensure the city is well managed.”

“Father receives messages daily—” She falters, as if she’s revealed too much, but it’s nothing I don’t know. My trusted captains have been tailing every eastern lord since I took power and reporting back to me. “Kettling’s steward is handling it.”

I arch a brow. “By locking servants in cellars, from what I’ve heard.”

“To keep them from making poor choices that would force their keepers to punish them. I would think a cellar with food and water and a pallet is far more humane than a noose. Wouldn’t you agree?” she counters, her chin lifted in challenge. “Besides, Kettling may be my home, but all of Islor are my people. My place is by your side now.”

What a well-rehearsed answer. I force an easy smile. “Of course.”

“Shall we?” She takes several steps toward the door that leads into the throne room, reaching for my arm. If I won’t allow her a place on the throne beside me, escorting the king in is her consolation prize.

We haven’t so much as held hands since this arrangement was made, and I have no desire to find out how prickly her body feels before I’m required to by marriage rite. “I will see you in there.”

A flash of anger skitters across her face before she quells it. “As you wish, Your Highness.” With a subtle nod of deference, she departs.

“It’s what’s best for Islor,” I whisper for the hundredth time.

But I will not be manipulated by anyone ever again.





CHAPTER FIVE




GRACEN


“Mika!” I hiss.

His index finger stalls a hair-width’s length away from his baby sister’s cheek.

I hold my breath as her lashes flicker, waiting for the first wail. But she settles again within her woven basket, none the wiser to her mischievous brother.

A slow sigh sails from my lips. “Fates help you if you wake her.” She’s mere days old, and it took an hour to coax her to sleep after her morning feed. I’m hoping I can steal an hour of rest myself after I set these tarts.

Mika flops back against the stone wall, his curly brown hair forming a halo around his little face. “I’m bored.”

“What a nice problem to have.” I dust my hands with a fresh coat of flour and return my focus to kneading pastry dough. The kitchen is quiet at this hour, the morning rush over and the afternoon one yet to start. Aside from Sena, who tends to the hearty and fragrant stew simmering over the fire, all is quiet.

Sabrina pokes her head in then. “Anything fresh from the oven yet?”

I nod toward the loaves of bread I pulled from the oven fifteen minutes ago, my way of granting her permission.

She glides over, her elegant lemon-yellow dress swirling around her legs as she moves. “I have been thinking about this all morning.” Hacking off a chunk, she slathers it with butter and then takes a bite. She moans.

The beautiful blond tributary often leaves her spacious room on the ground floor to swap gossip and get a slice of the freshest bread in the castle kitchen. She’s the only one of the tributaries who does. I think she’s lonely and missing her family.

“So? Did the king call on you last night?”

Her shoulders sink with a crestfallen look. “No. It has been nearly a week.”

“I’m sure it’s because of the poison. It is causing such havoc.” He was calling on her almost nightly not long ago. She would float in here the next day as if she had met and been blessed by all four fates themselves.

“Yes, perhaps.” She sighs. “I have important tasks. I should get back. See you later, Gracen. Mika.” She winks at him and then she’s gone.

What important task that could be, I can’t imagine. None of these royal tributaries have any duties beyond offering their vein. They don’t even make their own beds. Though, Sabrina has minded my children for me on more than one occasion, so I shouldn’t judge too harshly. It’s just a very different life than the one I had as a tributary.

“Where’s Lilou?” Mika asks.

“Helping with the laundry.” Likely playing with suds, but one less child to mind while I work is a blessing to me.