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“We’ll be well into afternoon once you’ve delivered your invitation to Feref and traversed both palace and city,” Mehl interjected. The man startled slightly, probably forgetting Mehl’s existence—or maybe relevance. “And it’s a fair journey to the next large city. Though our roads are generally secure, I’m sure my husband thinks only of your safety and comfort.”

More likely, Toren thought to observe Lord Aony and the others from Centoi, but that hardly needed to be said.

“I will consider your kind invitation, High King,” the lord replied.

Only time would tell if the man refused.

* * *

Toren maintainedhis composure all the way to the family wing, but as soon as he and Mehl were alone, Toren released a harsh curse. “I cannot believe that King Ryenil would marry his only daughter to Ber. He has to know of Ber’s threat to me.Everyoneknows. Despite that, our long-standing alliance is intact. Could there be more enmity between us than I realized?”

His husband squeezed his shoulder. “Considering your brother’s skill with lies, the king might not be aware of the full, true story.”

“Possibly.”

Even so, something about the situation was…off. Royal weddings tended to be as much alliance as affection—Toren’s excluded. For King Ryenil to affiance his only child to Ber and then send a formal invitation to Toren? There was a statement behind that. A potentially dangerous one. What could Ryenil be plotting?

“This invitation bears the stench of trickery,” he muttered.

His magic hammered against his mental shields until he ached with it, and his vision flashed. Toren halted, bracing himself against the wall as he struggled with the surge. Vaguely, he felt the brush of Mehl’s arm around his waist, but it was a pale sensation against the burn of magic repressed.

“Toren?”

“It’s as though my magic senses the threat,” Toren gritted out, “When I know it’s my own upset to blame.”

Mehl’s hold tightened. “Channel through me.”

“I have done that too many times this day.”

His husbandcouldbear his magic, but the process wasn’t without risk. In the throne room, Toren had sensed Mehl’s pain when channeling his latest overflow. He shouldn’t have risked it then, not after doing so before the luncheon, but showing such a severe weakness in front of Lord Aony had been a greater threat.

“It will take much agony for this to dispel on its own,” Mehl insisted. “I’ll be fine.”

Toren shook his head. “No. I hurt you earlier.”

Mehl’s huff brushed his cheek. “Then find Ria.”

Before he could answer, his husband nudged him forward, half-supporting and half-guiding him with the arm around his waist. Ria wasn’t experienced in channeling, but just a small release of energy would help. He’d meant to check on her anyway.

Toren took deep breaths and fought the power back with each step. Fortunately, his vision cleared by the time they reached her door. Mehl turned the knob and shoved the panel forward, then helped Toren through. But the only person they found inside was a maid, who let out a yelp and dropped her cleaning cloth at the sight of them.

When she lowered into a deep bow, she snatched the fabric up. Toren pretended not to see. “Your Majesties! May I help you?”

“Where is Lady Ria?” Mehl demanded.

“Lady?” The maid’s brow wrinkled. “Do you mean the woman that Feref moved to the servant’s quarters? We thought she was a guest here until that happened. Now I have to clean the whole room again before we close it up.”

If anything was capable of distracting Toren from his unwelcome invitation, it was this affront. Feref had sent Ria to the servant’s quarters? Toren had ordered nothing of the sort, and Feref would have known that. It was a betrayal of the highest order. Pure, cold rage filled him until not even the discomfort of his magic could compete.

Toren spun from Mehl’s hold and strode back to the door without a word. Once in the corridor, Mehl hurried up beside him with an expression furious enough to match Toren’s own mood. They strode together toward the door at the far end that led to the servant’s stairs. Ria would be returned to her rightful place.

And Feref would be searching for a new appointment.

* * *

At least theroom had a proper window.

Ria had heard of nobles who kept their servants in bare, windowless quarters in the less favorable parts of their homes, but that wasn’t the case at the royal palace. Really, it was a fine room. The bed was the same size as the one at her father’s house, and if the linens were less luxurious than those in her initial guest room, a brush of her fingers revealed the fabric to be soft and sturdy. The solid wardrobe would hold all of her clothes. Even the tub she found behind a privacy screen in the corner had magically heated running water.