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With a properly repentant smile for the lady who was a close friend of the queen, I returned my attention to the front of the hall to see the king and his advisers departing with Lord Dryhten and two members of his party of warriors. My stomach sank and twisted.

“Oh, they’re leaving with the Beast.” Lady Dagny gave a disgruntledsigh. “I suppose we won’t be permitted to hear how King Hamlin responds to that bit of nonsense.” She flapped open her fan and began furiously stirring the air around her face.

It was encouraging to see I was not the only one who objected to the notion. Who felt as I did. Unfortunately, Lady Dagny was not the final arbiter. I feared the king and the lord regent were having a private audience with Lord Dryhten because they were not as opposed to the warrior’s demand as they ought to be. What if the Beast persuaded them to accept him as a husband for one of my sisters? Nausea curled through me and settled in the pit of my stomach.

No. No.No.I could not let that happen. I had to protect them.

As though I could do something to stop such a terrible thing from coming to pass, I pushed through the crowd, reasonably certain where they would be continuing their conversation. There was not a corner of this palace hidden to me. The benefit of being less important, a less valued princess, was that I was not monitored as closely as the others. I had explored every nook and cranny of this palace at my leisure. The hidden passages were not hidden to me.

I knew precisely where to go.

2

Fell

IWAS MY FATHER’S SON.

He had taught me to fight. He had taught me the meaning of honor. That you bled for the things that mattered. Your homeland. Your people. A worthless and feeble king. I inhaled. The king whose lavish palace I now stood inside—who reaped the benefit of my protection in exchange for... nothing.

My father had been satisfied with the arrangement. Balor the Butcher did not question the act of fighting, bleeding,dyingfor a distant king. The honor of it all had been enough for him.

No more.

It was not enough for me.

There was no honor in being someone’s whipping dog.

I was my father’s son. I had learned everything from him, including from his mistakes, and I refused to acceptnothingas payment for blood anymore. It was time the Borderlands were viewed as something more than the edge of nowhere, uncivilized country fit for only the dregs of humanity.

“Are you sure you want to do this? Anywifeyou get from this place will be dead by winter’s end,” Arkin muttered for my ears alone as we entered the chamber, his keen gaze flitting about the opulent space.

“You don’t know that,” I countered.

“That she will be weak and soft as pudding? Aye, I do know that. She’s from here.” He motioned around us with a disgusted flick ofhis fingers. “If she doesn’t perish on the crossing from saddle fatigue or when we ford the river or in the first snow squall, I’ll eat my shield.” Arkin looked at me incredulously. “Come now, Dryhten. I saw thoseprincessessitting up there and so did you. You need a sword maiden for a wife. A strong woman to give you sons. Someone who can ride your cock all night and then ride a mount all day.” The older man smirked. He lacked delicacy, but he had served alongside my father as his vassal and was now, in turn, mine. A border lord in his own right, of a smaller holding west of my keep, he was bred in savagery, making him precisely the manner of warrior you wanted with you in battle. I sighed. Perhaps, though, he was not the best man at my side in ventures of diplomacy.

“Enough,” I quietly commanded.

The king and his retinue were only a few feet away, and I had no wish for them to overhear us speaking of cocks. Now was not the time for further debate. Arkin had aired his misgivings plenty on the ride south, but I had already decided. The princesses might not appear the heartiest of women, but this was the way it had to be. Penterra was under threat on multiple fronts. Yes, we had enemies, but that was not the only threat. Our people were starving. Famine and disease were rampant in the north, south—everywhere. Circumstances were dire and not improving under King Hamlin. I required a seat at the table to stop these toad-faced bastards from fucking things up even more—and marriage to a Penterran princess would grant me that.

A footman gestured for us to take a seat on any of the flimsy-looking furniture. Every surface was littered with tasseled pillows of silk and velvet and brocade. Fine paintings covered the walls. A fire crackled in a hearth large enough for multiple persons to fit inside. Did it even get cold enough in the south to necessitate such a thing? My top lip curled faintly as I lowered myself onto a bench. My stronghold was comfortable but nowhere near this opulent.

Wine was offered. It wasn’t ale, but I took a long, savoring sip, watching over the rim of my jeweled goblet as the king took a seat. The lord regent had more influence than expected. I noted at oncethe king’s gaze continually sought him outbeforespeaking,afterspeaking, and even when not speaking at all.

“Your proposition is of interest, Lord Dryhten,” King Hamlin said carefully, the purple of his tunic so brilliant and pristine it made the eyes water.

The lord regent remained standing, his lean form positioned to the right of the king, one hand gripping the back of his chair. I wondered if the king realized how controlling the posture appeared, as though he were merely a puppet with the man behind him pulling the strings.

I directed my gaze at the lord regent. “I believe I have earned significant recompense.”

“A princess of the Penterran throne, though?” The lord regent smiled as though I were a child asking for the impossible and was yet too naive to know it. “You overreach yourself, my lord.”

The king nodded almost regretfully.

“Do I?” I leaned back against pillows so soft and luxurious that my body did not know quite how to react to such comfort. I’d spent nearly a month riding hard and bedding down on the unforgiving ground to arrive here so that we would be back home before the first snow. There was nothing worse than being caught in a snow squall out in the open.

I’d meant to come sooner, but a fierce contingent of invaders from the north had occupied me for the past many months, and I was not the kind of man to send an envoy to collect a bride for me. Arkin had offered to go in my stead, but it seemed the kind of thing I should do myself, no matter the inconvenience. I had no desire to put it off another year. This business needed getting done.

A servant refilled the goblets all around and offered fruit. Such fruit was a luxury in the cold climate of the north. I selected a cluster of fresh grapes. Arkin followed suit, helping himself to a pear and biting down noisily on the juicy fruit, looking around at all the people gathered with blinking eyes as juice dribbled onto his graying beard.