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Had that been what she’d being doing?

Every time Wren had been uncomfortable in her femininity so far, it had been used against her. She had to swallow her nerves and her instincts to stab anyone who looked at her like she was an object and use her looks to her advantage. Tonight had been proof enough of that; she’d almost attacked Idril the moment he touched her.

Wren dipped her head in acknowledgement. “I’ll take your advice to heart.”

“Do.” Astrid sauntered back to the exit. “For the record, I never saw you here and you never saw me here, correct?”

“Agreed. Safe travels, my lady.”

The queen chuckled. “Happy hunting, little dragon.”

26

ARRIK

“Son.”

Arrik didn’t flinch. He’d learned years ago that at any sign of weakness his father would pounce.It had been several weeks since he’d seen Soren. Of course he’d choose the night of the ball to speak.

He turned from the window, bowed to the king, and then straightened. Soren was a few inches shorter than himself and the secret, petty part of Arrik liked that his evil sire had to look up tohim.

“Yes, my lord?” His tone was even despite the dread that curled in his belly. Soren rarely used the term “son” when addressing Arrik. It was only used when the king was on the verge of striking out at him for some perceived threat, or when he wanted something.

“Walk with me.” A command.

Arrik fell into place beside the king, noting the four guards trailing them. He could dispatch them in seconds. It would be easy to take out the king, but it wouldn’t solve the rest of his problems.

It’ll make you feel better.

Those kind of thoughts didn’t help. He knew from personal experience that taking a life never really filled the hole carved in one’s chest after a loved one died.

The king laced his fingers behind his back and sighed, his maroon silk robe dragging along the white marble floor with a soft hiss.

“I’m displeased.”

Two simple words that could mean horror.

Arrik looked straight ahead, his expression one of a committed commander. “What can I do to ease your discomfort, my lord?”

“That’s what I like about you. You’re always willing and ready to do my bidding. You don’t lounge around like my other useless sons. Kalles has some use for me as a spymaster when he’s not drowning himself in opium. Then there’s Cathal. He’s lazy, entitled, and lives for pleasure, but he’s my heir.”

I’m your firstborn.

Soren slanted a look up at Arrik as if he heard his thoughts. “But out of all my children, you are the most like me, my most trusted.”

“You honor me.” It wasn’t an honor. He wasn’t anything like the king. He wasbetter.

“And yet…you’ve betrayed me.”

Unease trickled down Arrik’s spine but he kept his calm. His father had no way of knowing what he was up to. He’d been too careful. “My lord?”

Soren narrowed his blue eyes, his countenance icy. “Did I not ask you to take care of Idril?”

The knot inside Arrik loosened. So this whole charade was about the other elf lord. The situation could be salvaged.

“I handled it.”

The king slowed to a stop and arched a haughty brow. “Then why is he still breathing?”