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CHAPTER TWENTY

NEAH

“ A nd then what happened?” Zennon leaned in eagerly, eyes bright like she was living vicariously through Neah.

“And then… he walked away.”

“He walked— he walked away? ” Zennon’s smile folded into a frown. “Why?”

Neah shrugged, though the truth was that she suspected she knew why the king had left her naked on the forest floor after the best head of her life.

He’d given her a taste, and now if she wanted more she would have to be the one to chase him—metaphorically.

She tilted her head as she reconsidered, or maybe not .

“Well, that’s still more exciting than my evening.” Zennon sighed. “Gabriel hovered around me for half an hour before I gave up and went back inside.”

Neah winced sympathetically. “It’s for your own protection. But, hey, at least you can enjoy the post-hunt feast?”

“I know, I know.” Zennon pushed to standing, her long skirts flowing around her as she stretched and then jumped as a knock sounded on Neah’s door from the parlour. “I’ll get it.”

Before Neah could protest, Zennon was already half-way there. The door swung open and her face lit up when she saw who stood on the other side, her mouth opened before she seemed to catch herself, head bowing as she said, “Captain Jamison. You’re here for Neah?”

Their father nodded, entering and closing the door behind him and as soon as the heavy wood thunked shut he drew Zennon into an embrace.

“You’re well?” He pulled back and cupped Zen’s cheek as he inspected her face, nodding in satisfaction when she reassured him.

“Neah,” he said, smiling as she approached.

Just as quickly as it appeared, his smile vanished behind the mask of stoicism the rest of the world saw.

He was no longer her father, in his place was her spymaster, her Captain.

“You’ve returned,” she said evenly, calling upon her own mask as she took a seat in the armchair near the hearth. “A good trip?”

He nodded but gave no details as he followed her to the seating area and chose his own chair. “Zen, a moment?”

Zennon bowed her head and left, walking into the other room to eavesdrop no doubt.

“Report.”

“I followed your instructions and came across several potential assassins, but there was no sign of the benefactor themselves.” She kept her tone even, measured, and was surprised when the Captain slumped, a hand coming up to rub at his tired eyes.

It was a sign of weakness he’d show his daughter, but not his spy.

“There’s something else.” Her hands fisted in the smooth fabric of her trousers, catching on the swirling designs that had been stitched onto the black material.

“The king has been doing some spying of his own. He knows about Zennon, and he knows about me.”

Jamison’s head snapped up. “Explain.”

She blew out a long breath, reluctant to meet the accusation that was likely swimming in his eyes. “He followed us the night we came to see you in the servant’s quarters.”

There was silence for a moment and then he cursed. “Sloppy.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“And you? How did he discover that?”

The lump in her throat was hard to swallow past but she made an attempt. “He followed me to the tavern.”

At that, Jamison stood and began to pace.

“I taught you better than that, Neah. Tailed not once, but twice?” He shook his head and her gut churned, acid bubbling up her throat as his disappointment crested.

She wasn’t sure his agitation could get much worse, so she decided the best thing to do was rip the bandage off.

“Dad.”

He halted, pace faltering as her father peered out of the face of the Captain. “Yes?”

“I think he’s my mate.” It was the first time she’d said it aloud and the words made her head swim and her heart beat faster, clamminess clinging to her palms. “He found me during the hunt.”

Neah wasn’t sure what reaction she’d expected.

Shock, perhaps, that the Goddess had chosen Neah for the king.

Concern that this would inevitably complicate things for them all, and cast an even closer eye on them, on their secrets, as the court scrambled to learn more about them—possibly even anger.

Deep down, in a small place she’d deny ever existed, she hoped his reaction might be joy—she had found her other half. Her equal in all things.

Instead, the mask of the captain fell back into place and the ache of that pain hurt more than if he’d raged at her. “I see.”

Zennon rounded the corner, hands on her hips and her mouth pressed into a straight line.

Despite her bearing no relation to Neah’s mother, she couldn’t help but think that Zen bore a striking resemblance to the captain’s wife at that moment.

It wasn’t often that Zennon caved to anger, but when she did her temper was white hot.

“ I see ? That’s all you have to say to your daughter as she confessed, for the first time might I add, that the king is her mate?

” Zennon stopped in front of their father and Neah couldn’t help her own amusement when Jamison shrank back from his daughter.

“She is not just your spy, she is a person , shame on you for thinking only of the ways you can use her to your advantage or in how to mitigate damage to your network.”

Zennon was breathing heavily and Neah’s eyes were wide. She’d had no idea that her sister felt this way about Neah’s service to the crown, but her father didn’t look shocked. In fact, he looked pissed .

“That’s enough.” He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t even snap, and yet Zennon shrank back from him, retreating into Neah’s safety as she hovered just behind her chair. “My concern is not for my network , or the potential loss of one of my best spies. My concern is that of a father for his daughter.”

Neah frowned, running her eyes over his face and finding no untruths. “What do you mean?”

Jamison’s eyes were steady when they met her own. “The king set out to look for his mate only to shore up his own hold on the crown. Nothing more.”

“I don’t understand,” Zen said softly and Neah’s jaw clenched tightly before she managed to relax the muscles long enough to reply.

“Don’t tiptoe around it, father. He means that the king only intends to use me.”

Zennon shook her head. “I’ve seen the way he watches you. This is not merely a convenience for him.”

But Neah was done listening and pushed to her feet as the need to move, to act, rushed through her.

“You think it’s a coincidence that there is unrest within the court and assassins targeting him at the very same time he decides it’s time to find his mate?

No, Father is right. I am a means to an end. Nothing more.”

“Neah—”

“At least now I know,” she growled, the tone deeper than usual.

Better to understand where she stood with the king now, before she got in too deep.

“If he needs a mate to secure the crown and protect the kingdom, then that’s what I’ll be.

I’ll do my duty.” But there would be no love between them, no pretences.

Her hands clenched on the back of the armchair where she’d been sitting.

Zennon frowned. “I don’t think Wren would want?—”

The sound of his name frayed her control and an odd tingling swept through her hands, the fabric dimpling beneath her fingertips. She forced herself to let go of the chair, startled when she caught a glimpse of the rips in the material in line with her fingers. Had she done that?

Her eyes darted down to her hands but found only smooth, human fingers. No claws. Pushing the strange occurrence to the back of her mind, she frowned as she debated what she wanted to do next.

The two of them were staring at her, wariness and concern mixing with pity, and it was more than Neah could take. So she turned on her heel and left without another word. Perhaps there would be time later to talk this out with her sister, but for now… Neah needed to hit something.

The rhythmic thump of her hands against the training dummy was soothing as she worked out her anger. She’d stopped only when her hands began to ache and her knuckles threatened to split, because that would be hard to hide as a Lady of the court.

So she’d switched to kicking the dummy until her hips protested and she lost her balance, landing on her arse. For some reason, the impact made her cry.

If she was being honest, the impact had likely just jolted her emotions out of her rather than being the cause of her tears.

She’d fought through her rage, and was left now with only disappointment.

For a second, she’d allowed herself to believe Wren wanted her—that the Goddess hadn’t forsaken her—but she was a fool.

What use did a king have for love? Of course even his mating bond would be about power, control.

She was an idiot to have entertained any other thoughts in the moments since he’d left her in the forest. What seemed like a choice, a freedom, now seemed more like a smug taunt— come and get me if you want, because I can take it or leave it .

She’d been screwing up ever since she’d arrived at court, letting the king tail her, failing to locate the person funding the assassins, and now this.

Neah pushed out several deep breaths, wiping away the sweat that had mingled with her tears as she pushed to standing.

She was about to head for a small rack of throwing knives when her gaze caught on the wooden floor where she’d been sitting.

Two round circles of small, nearly imperceptible scratches marred the floor in a perfect replica of where her hands had pressed to the ground while she’d cried, attempting to ground herself.

Her fingers looked no different, and maybe the scratches had been there before she’d sat down and she just hadn’t noticed, but between this and the chair in her parlour… It seemed like too big a coincidence.

Had I… summoned claws? It was too much to hope for, but Zennon would tell her if she was being delusional.

Knives forgotten, Neah made her way to the door of the private training room.

It was a hidden nook, one of many in the castle if she had to guess, that nobody knew of except her and Jamison.

She’d half-expected to find it covered in dust from disuse since she’d been gone, but it had been as brightly polished and well-equipped as ever, making her wonder if her father also used it as a retreat when his thoughts grew to be too much.

Neah paused with a hand on the door, about to exit when she sensed two passersby. She pressed an ear to the door, listening for their retreat so she could leave, and instead caught the tail end of their conversation.

“...It’s not as if there aren’t plenty of eligible ladies here at court,” one of the women said, a voice Neah couldn’t place. “Why he felt the need to bring in a nobody from a hovel in the forest is beyond me.”

Anger made Neah’s body flash hot. They were talking about Zennon, she was sure.

The other person tutted and Neah was certain this was someone she’d seen recently, likely during a gathering for tea.

“Now, Fleura, let’s not be petty. I heard that the king summoned her here with a spell.

” The woman’s tone lowered and Neah strained to hear what was said next. “I heard that nobody is his mate!”

Fleura, presumably, gasped and Neah stifled the curse that nearly slipped from her lips.

If these two knew, then it was likely that others at court had heard the same whispers.

Of course, they were wrong—Neah was Wren’s mate, not Zennon, but who had told them even that much?

If not for the fact that she was exhausted and slick with sweat from her training, Neah might have followed them to see what else they knew.

But as it was, the best course of action seemed to be returning to Zennon and making sure she was safe.

Neah slipped out of the hidden door and moved swiftly back down the corridor in the opposite direction to the gossiping ladies.

If Wren was right, then whoever had spread this rumour, and the others while he’d been away hunting, was likely the same person who had hired the assassins.

A sense of foreboding gripped her tightly as she considered the implications of their boldness.

They had left a guard outside of Zennon’s guest room as a security measure, hoping anyone looking to hurt her would think she was still staying there instead of with Neah.

She would have to remember to question the guards on rotation there and see if they’d seen or heard anything concerning—especially with the post-hunt feast coming up, Zennon would be exposed.

Vulnerable. It was too late to quash the rumours, but she could help shore up Zen’s defences in the meantime.

After a day of fasting, and with one more still to go, Neah had been looking forward to the feast and lunar ball that always followed a Hunt. Now, she only hoped they would make it through unscathed.

Zennon was waiting for her when Neah walked through the door and she didn’t pause for breath as she closed the door behind her and eyed her sister sitting on a chair before the unlit hearth.

“Do you still want to learn to fight?”