I forced myself to spear a bit of cabbage and chew, painfully aware of his concern. I needed to appear well. “I’m fine.”
The prince’s face grew grim. “Ryiah, you aren’t—”
A loud voice echoed across the chatter, cutting off the rest of Darren’s reply.
“Six weeks!” It was one of the Crown’s advisors, a hefty man with expensive, but threadbare, Borean silks. He had grown more boisterous with each helping of ale. “Then forty Pythian warships set sail for Jerar. Would that I were a knight, so I could gut those Caltothian traitors myself.”
Six weeks, I swallowed, the previous moment’s brevity forgotten.
Darren seemed to be thinking the same thing. “How long do you think it will take them to reach our shore?”
The man preened under the crown prince’s stare, some of the words slurring as he spoke. “A month, Your Highness. Not a day before.”
Another advisor, a severe woman with a sharp jaw and jutting lips, set down her glass with an exaggerated scoff. “Two weeks, Cletus. You of all people should know. You are in charge of overseeing the Crown’s trade, are you not?” Her lips curved into a sneer. “Or have you been spending all of your time at dice?”
The man’s face turned mottled and red in embarrassment. He gasped, stuttering, “How d-dare—”
“Is that true, Cletus?” The question came from my end of the table, and it was deceptively calm. The man had captured the attention of his king, and not in a good way.
Cletus sank in his seat, the legs of his chair scraping against the marble tile. “Perhaps, sire. I don’t have my charts here to advise me—”
“And yet I pay you well enough to have them memorized.” The young king’s voice had gone flat. Gone was the celebration, and in its place was disgust. “Hestia is right. I have no use for wastrels in my court. Guards, see that this man is escorted off the premises immediately.”
“Blayne.” Darren’s murmur was only low enough for me to hear. “Is that really necessary? The man has had a lot to drink. You could question him when he is sober.”
The king’s angry gaze slid to his brother, and then he turned back to the advisor, his words growing cold. “We are to go to war in two months’ time. Your loose calculations could cost my men’s lives. Show your face in my court again and I will not be so kind.”
“Yes, sire.” The man didn’t hesitate. He was out of his chair and staggering out of the hall in an instant, with labored breaths and ruddy cheeks as he shoved past servants, musicians, and wandering courtiers unaware of his transgression.
“I’m sorry, brother,” Blayne said, once the volume of the room had returned once more, “but that needed to be done for the good of Jerar.”
Darren didn’t dispute his claim.
And that is why I never suspected a thing. Who could fault a king for actions that would save his subject’s lives? If he were cruel, it was because the alternative would reap a greater loss.
Only the truth could bring his deception to light—The fact that his actions weren’t necessary. The Caltothians were a peaceful people, and it was only by King Lucius’s greed and scheming that the rest of the kingdom and neighboring countries believed any different.
I shoved my plate away.
If I hadn’t had the stomach for the evening’s meal, hearing the other advisors now praise their new king’s dedication to Jerar was enough to make me sick. It wasn’t their fault. They didn’t know… or maybe they did? I had to wonder if Lucius had shared his plan with anyone besides his eldest? If Blayne had shared it with anyone besides the head mage of his regiment, Mira? The latter’s knowledge was probable, given her quick promotion following King Lucius’s murder—but were there others?
And then a new thought occurred to me: of all the king’s advisors, how many knew?
The room started to spin and I slumped back against the frame of my chair. What if they all knew?
“Ryiah?”
I had managed a ceremony, a two-hour procession through the streets of Devon, and a three-hour feast. I had withstood more than any person should ever tolerate in a known murderer’s presence. I needed to get away, if only for a couple of minutes.
I needed space away from everyone and everything. It was all becoming too much.
I turned to Darren and wove my fingers in with his. “I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed.” It wasn’t a lie, at least. “Do you think your brother would mind if I slipped away?”
The prince’s gaze never wavered from my face. “I’ll make your excuses. If Blayne takes issue with my new wife’s absence, he can answer to me.”