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It wasdifficult to settle with one’s potential assassin on the loose.

And so Ria paced.

There wasn’t much else to do. She’d already changed from her fancy court dress into her own clothes. She’d riffled through the array of beautiful gowns hanging in the dressing room and admired their fine craftsmanship. She’d skimmed the titles of the books on the shelf in the sitting room, but none had caught her interest. Her thoughts were too chaotic to give proper attention to a story, anyway.

Finally, she settled onto the bench built beneath the broad window in her bedroom. Night had fallen, so the full glory of the view was hidden from her sight. But with the royal quarters situated so high, she could admire the soft glow of countless lights below her. Mage-lit lanterns created beautiful patterns in the gardens where they followed the lines of flowerbeds, hedges, and groves. Periodically, someone would walk within the circle of their glow, giving her a glimpse of the nobility at their games.

Were they undaunted by the drama of dinner? From here, it was impossible to tell if they moved with ease or trepidation, and there was no way to know what they said to one another. No doubt speculation ran freely, especially in the absence of the kings. How strange to think of the courtiers lingering like unwanted guests despite their hosts having left the party, though she supposed that was the norm with some of the nobles living here.

Ria hadn’t heard a sound from the kings’ bedroom. Due to some kind of muffling spell, no doubt. Were they arguing? She hoped not, but she wasn’t about to knock and ask. She’d promised Mehl time without her, which they clearly needed. Her lingering annoyance with Toren wouldn’t help, either. If he answered the door, she might end up assaulting the High King again.

Not a good habit for certain.

Really, she should have given greater consideration to the threat of physical danger. If Prince Ber sought the throne so ruthlessly, he wouldn’t hesitate to have her murdered, would he? There might be countless dangers to her life, and now she couldn’t trust that she’d be notified about any of them. How many spies could be on the loose without her knowledge? Could she even trust the servants?

Her gaze flicked to the huge bed. Ridiculously sumptuous and regretfully empty. Ria couldn’t fathom sleeping alone in the intimidating space when shewasn’talready scared. While wondering if every vibration of the window was a possible murderer or a simple breeze? Impossible. She had to find something to do. Somewhere else to be.

When Feref had helped her prepare for dinner, she’d asked him to have the shop goods delivered to a room close at hand. He’d told her he would have her fabric and sewing supplies placed in the unused sitting room at the end of the corridor, right beside the guard who kept intruders from the royal wing. That should be safe enough. It was still in the shielded area, and the guard would hear any trouble. She could at least check to see if her things were there.

Resolved, Ria headed toward the door. It wasn’t as though Toren or Mehl would notice her absence. Not this night.

Chapter22

In the Flowers

Mehl trailed his fingers through Toren’s hair and lifted one of the strands to his nose, the spicy-sweet scent of his husband’s shampoo a balm to his soul. Toren had tucked himself beneath the crook of Mehl’s shoulder, his arm across Mehl’s waist. For the first time in ages, his husband was completely relaxed—from his deep breathing, probably asleep.

But then Toren’s finger began an absentminded swirl against his side. “Where’s Ria?” Toren mumbled.

Mehl had forgotten to tell his husband Ria’s words. Whoops. Not that it had been a priority, considering. “She decided to return to her room alone. She said she needed rest after the last few days, though I suspect it was as much for our benefit as hers.”

“She was upset,” Toren said flatly.

“Yes,” Mehl confirmed, releasing Toren’s hair. “I take it you didn’t tell her about the spy?”

Toren squirmed against him. “We were at the High Table, and I didn’t know how she would react. Of course, I didn’t tell her.”

With his anger purged, Mehl felt amusement—and its mismatched sibling, sadness—at the admission. It was so typical of Toren, for good or ill. Protecting others and himself, yet mangling it badly when it was someone he cared about. His fear of loss overrode good sense in those situations.

“Don’t you think she might have been bothered to learn that she’d been in danger?” Mehl asked, careful to keep his tone soft. The last thing he wanted was another argument. “She’s trusting us to protect her as part of our contract. It might be difficult to maintain that trust if you hide pertinent details.”

Toren’s sigh warmed his skin. “I didn’t consider it that way, but you’re right. If she weren’t asleep, I would apologize.”

“I’m surprised you aren’t doing so, anyway.” Mehl chuckled, but he rubbed his husband’s forearm soothingly. “How is it both normal and strange for her not to be here? It isn’t exactly a lack, and yet…”

“I know,” Toren whispered.

Neither of them moved, and Mehl refused to be the first to do so. After all that had happened with Toren’s family, loss was Toren’s greatest fear, and he’d already worried that he might lose Mehl to Ria. Mehl knew otherwise, but there was no logic in it. Toren would have to see for himself that not all change was destruction and that sometimes adding truly did create more instead of somehow turning out less.

If Ria was destined to be theirs, Toren would have to be the first in their marriage to embrace it. Mehl might be a warrior, but he couldn’t conquer another person’s doubts.

No matter how much he wanted to.

* * *

It wasn’t necessarilya bad space to set up a little workshop, but it would definitely require some changes. Ria frowned down at one of the decorative tables situated between two chairs. Better work surfaces, for one. The large, airy room was full of both smaller seating areas like this and a couple of larger groupings, but none of them had a substantial table.

She could no doubt have Feref bring those in and arrange them near the back wall where the goods from her shop were currently stacked. But how would she manage fittings? This room could be divided for such a purpose, but this was the royal family’s personal wing. No courtiers allowed, as far as she was aware.