Page 93

Fitting, if currently inconvenient.

There was only one other judgment to deliver this morning. The second son of a minor lord had brutally assaulted another lord’s servant. Intolerable. Without a qualm, Toren stripped the man of any hint of noble title—present or future—and allowed him only three choices: enlist in the guard with no chance of full knighthood, find work in a trade, or leave the country for good.

“But Your Majesty, if my older brother should die after my father—”

“Then your younger sister will become lady in his stead,” Toren said coldly. “You are removed from the succession. I will not have your ilk responsible for the lives and livelihoods of so many.”

Of all the courtiers, the more seasoned nobles reacted the least. They were aware of his feelings on such matters after witnessing similar punishments during his reign. But Toren made note of the nervous stirring amongst the youngest. If they were uneasy with the concept of true nobility, then they bore watching.

As did the man before him, who grudgingly accepted a place in the guard. Toren exchanged a single glance with Macoe, who nodded in acknowledgment. There was a high probability the former lord would cause trouble, especially at first, but Macoe had managed to reform a few who’d been similarly punished. Time would tell the result.

It didn’t take long for the criminal to be hurried away, the next prisoner marched up the aisle in his place. This man, though. Already seething from the previous case, Toren’s anger surged to new heights at Belak’s unrepentant scowl. At his side, Mehl’s breath hissed out, and Ria tossed a panicked glance his way.

Only then did he realize how his energy shrieked against his shields as a result. Pain pulsed between his temples, and his hands clenched around the armrests of his throne. Toren forced himself to take a deep breath. At his husband’s mental prodding, he channeled some of the excess through Mehl.

He had to maintain control.

As Belak was shoved unwillingly to his knees, Toren feared it would be hard won.

* * *

Maybe she shouldn’t have come here—butat the same time, how could she have not?

Nerves tumbled in her stomach and danced to the frantic beat of her heart, all accompanied by the ache of Toren’s energy surging through their link. At least he was calming that. But if she glanced down at her father where he’d just been forced to kneel, she didn’t know what would happen to her own emotions. Nothing good, for certain, and that might crack Toren’s control.

For the moment, she kept her eyes on the twin thrones where the kings sat. Her husbands through the link, they would say, but it didn’t feel real yet. The presence of her father only increased that sliver of doubt. Oh, gods, what if he did something to ruin this? Her muscles locked with fear at the thought.

“Your Majesties,” Feref intoned across from her. “I bring forth Belak Orindl for judgment.”

“State his crime,” Mehl said—probably because Toren looked ready to commit murder.

“Belak Orindl stands accused of abuse and negligence of a child, abuse of his adult daughter, enslavement of another citizen, and attempting physical harm of another in the presence of the kings.”

Ria’s palms grew damp. Those were heavier charges than she’d expected, somehow, yet they were all true. How had she survived? How had she dared concoct a plan to escape? Perhaps she was stronger than she’d ever given herself credit for.

A fierce sense of pride swept through her, enough that she was able to look at her father when he finally spoke.

“The account given by my daughter is pure falsehood, Your Majesties.”

Her father appeared…diminished. His face was gaunt, and she caught a hint of a tremor in the hand resting against his side. Then he clenched his hand into a fist, and her heart gave an instinctive thump of panic.

There are guards. There. Are. Guards.

“This is not a trial,” Toren bit out. “Both King Mehl and I witnessed the bruises you inflicted upon your daughter, confirmed by the healer who repaired them. With my own eyes, I saw you handle her roughly, and you would have struck her if not for King Mehl. You told us yourself that you were preventing her from leaving your home and shop. It is obvious that you used her talent and magic for your own benefit under threat of harm or death. I should kill you where you stand.”

Her father’s fist tapped the side of his leg, an impatient gesture that made her take a step back. At the movement, his head jerked her way, and recognition lit pure fury in his eyes. “You wretched whore. You will pay for this.”

Ria’s chest squeezed until she could barely take in a breath. Suddenly, the guards didn’t matter. If her father managed to get free, he would kill her. She knew that fact down to her very soul. That fear kept her eyes locked on his.

Fabric rustled from the dais, but she couldn’t force herself to look at the kings’ reactions. In any case, she didn’t need to—their link provided enough emotion for a lifetime, so much she couldn’t process. Only the sight of the courtiers dropping to their knees behind her father told her that one or more of the kings must have stood.

Then she sensed Mehl’s approach. His warm, steady energy wrapped around her even before he reached her, easing some of her fear. As her father attempted to shrug off the guard holding him down by the shoulder, Mehl slipped his arm around her waist. Two bodyguards stepped up beside them with swords drawn.

“You would be wise to remain still and hold your tongue,” Mehl said in the same deadly tone he’d used with her father the day they’d met. “For threatening the royal consort, I could kill you right now.”

“Consort?” Belak sneered. “I see she has—”

“Silence.” Energy throbbed through the room with Toren’s sharp command. Ria heard a few gasps from the force of it, but no one dared say a word. “Feref, render him unable to speak.”