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Gods, he’d forgotten about that. Had it only been a couple of hours since the morning court session? He’d recalled the issue of her rank before joining Mehl and Ria in the private receiving room, but it had fled his mind entirely after burying himself in Ria’s sweet body as she claimed Mehl with her mouth. The memory of that moment was all-consuming. He’d barely been able to focus on the contract when they’d first begun the meeting.

“I named you Duchess of Nevial,” Toren said. “I suppose there’s a contract to sign and seal around here somewhere.”

Iyeth nodded. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

With a wave of his hand, Toren gestured for the scribe to retrieve it. Ria didn’t notice the man leave—she was too busy gaping at him. “You did what?”

Apparently, she wasn’t pleased.

* * *

Ria must have heard wrong.Shemusthave. High King Toren would not have named a tailor’s daughter a duchess, especially not so casually. She knew little about the nobility beyond their names, their current fashions, and the few snippets of gossip she had overheard during fittings. They certainly hadn’t acknowledged her as she’d worked. Though she’d outfitted quite a few nobles over the years, none of them had recognized her in court finery this morning, or if they had, they’d pretended ignorance.

They might have barely tolerated her if she’d been given some minor title, but they would never accept her as a duchess.. What was Toren thinking? Was he that blind to the biases of the upper class? He couldn’t possibly be, or he wouldn’t be such an effective king. Of course, he was at the top. He never had to worry about social rejection.

King Mehl frowned down at his husband. “Why that title, love?”

Naturally, Mehl understood. He’d been High King Toren’s bodyguard before they’d fallen in love. Although that had been before Ria was born, she could imagine the furor that had caused. Few commented on his origins now, but Mehl had had nearly a century to win over the people. Not to mention the fact that he wasmarriedto theHigh King.

Toren lifted a shoulder. “Why not? It has been unclaimed since the previous duchess died without an heir. The title comes with an estate an hour beyond the city, and I thought Ria might enjoy that as a periodic retreat from palace life. It will be hers even when our child is grown.”

An estate to deal with, too? With a gasp, Ria jerked to her feet. “I don’t know a thing about managing a household of that size. I’ve barely adjusted to the idea of bearing the next king or queen, and now you want me to oversee an estate?”

Mehl’s lips twisted, but Toren chuckled without seeming to notice his husband’s annoyed regard. “Absolutely not. It is one of many unoccupied holdings I have a steward administer. Believe me, I am far more concerned with our current, more pressing task.”

As Toren’s meaning became clear, her body flushed with heat. Even so… “I will be mocked by the entire court.”

“Do you think so?” Any hint of amusement fled his face, replaced by cold resolve. “Anyone foolish enough to make that mistake will answer to me.”

Ria shivered at the deadly certainty in his voice. High King Toren was renowned for his fairness, but it didn’t always take the form a person expected. That was particularly true when King Mehl was involved in the decision—and if Mehl’s sudden, fierce scowl was anything to go by, he would be. Life would become more than unpleasant for the first courtier or two who openly snubbed her.

And they would.

The door opened, and the scribe returned with another stack of papers in his hands. His worried frown was back, too. Though the man seemed the nervous sort, it was obvious that he held Toren in high regard. He wouldn’t have fretted so much about this decision otherwise.

“Your Majesties,” the scribe said. “Your advisers have arrived early for your afternoon meeting. I believe they hoped to share luncheon with you.”

“Then they should have sent a formal request,” Toren replied.

A hint of his energy pulsed in the air, and Mehl rubbed Toren’s back in soothing circles. Ria couldn’t take her eyes off the tender motion, done so absently it was obviously a habitual gesture. What would it be like to receive such casual, everyday love? Something sharp pinched in her chest. She wouldn’t know.

“We may need their aid if your brother does return,” Mehl said softly.

Toren’s sigh ruffled the papers on his desk. “We need to finish the contracts. More, we must decide when to present the announcement. I would prefer to do so before Ria’s father is brought before us for punishment in three days. The initial charge was read with the other decrees after the two of you left the room.”

“I imagine we’ll still need to eat.” Mehl smiled. “Once the contracts are signed, we can delay the rest of the discussion until evening. Feref can show Ria to her new rooms while we attend to the advisers.”

Ria didn’t pay attention to Toren’s answer—she was stuck on Mehl’s comment about her rooms. A title, an estate, and a suite in the royal palace, where she would presumably sleep with the kings until she was pregnant. Was this even real? Her vision took on a hazy cast, like the time she’d drank too much of her father’s wine. She blinked, but although her focus returned, she still couldn’t quite believe she stood across the desk from High King Toren and King Mehl, her life changed by a stack of papers.

She straightened her spine and gripped her hands together in front of her stomach. Anything to regain her composure. Although Mehl studied her worriedly, Toren accepted another paper from the scribe without glancing up. He signed the bottom with a bold, confident flourish. No hint of her own doubt.

Is that for my new title?Ria wondered as he sealed the wax with his power.

In an odd sort of way, the title was more frightening than the breeding contract. The latter could be broken, or if she had a child, she could raise them here and then be able to do as she wished. But this title, signed by the High King’s hand, would remain.

She couldn’t begin to process the tangle of her emotions about that.

Once Toren was finished, the scribe returned to her side where the final page of the breeding contract still lay. This was the pivotal moment—an official binding. It was a formality after her sworn word, but one that couldn’t be denied. With numb fingers, Ria took the pen from the scribe and dipped the nib into the ink. Then she took a deep breath and signed her name.