Page 19 of Exiled Heir

“He’s theprince, Sonja,” the other woman said sharply. “What? Do you want him to form a consort bond in some cheap motel?”

“I expect him to act like aprince.” Sonja gestured to me with her hand, and I curled my toes in the carpet, reminding myself that any information was important, even if it meant taking an insult. “When I took my consort, I didn’t randomly kidnap a werewolf off the street. There was a courtship. There was a mutual decision. I asked my father for advice. I’ve never even heard of this man, have you?”

The older woman tightened her lips but didn’t say anything, which was an admission in itself. I might not speak in their fancy subtleties, but I could definitely read when someone had been busted.

“What is your name, dear?” the older woman asked. She leaned forward, both of her hands resting on a cane. The ruby at the top gleamed in the warm lights.

“Miles.” Then, because I knew they were going to ask, I added, “No last name. No pack name.”

“And where did you meet Prince Bartlett?” the older woman asked.

Sonja snorted. “Petrona, if he didn’t meet himyesterday, probably at some backroom brawl, I’d give you half my paycheck.”

Petrona gave her a narrow-eyed look. “Given what you earn, I will use it to purchase a new hat. Where did you two meet?”

“We met at a bar. Syndrome. A few weeks ago,” I drawled. The speed of my words wasn’t going to make them think I was any smarter, but I had learned that there was benefit in being thought slow and dumb. “I thought he was hot. I’ve never had a pack, so I didn’t realize he was a mage at first. He took me out to dinner, he paid for rides. We went to museums. I thought maybe we were just going to hook up. Then he asked if I wanted to be his consort.”

I wasn’t sure why I had added that I thought we were going to hook up. Sure, Cade was attractive, but Tyson wasn’t wrong when he called Cade an ice prince.

“That sounds like courtship to me,” Petrona said.

Sonja leaned back in her high-backed chair, her nails drumming on the arm. “How long?”

I shrugged. “Three weeks.”

“Hecan’thave thought this through,” Sonja said.

“Who?” Petrona asked. She turned to me, her eyes sharp despite their age. “Did you feel you had time to think this through? Did you have time to make a thoughtful consent?”

“I mean, I took enough time that I would’ve hooked up with him anyway.” That was true. These days, a beer was all it took. Half a beer if the drink was bad and the man attractive enough.

Shaking her head, Sonja said, “Hooking up is not the same thing as becoming a consort.”

“You are so old-fashioned about this,” Petrona said. “If you had your way, Cade would have paraded him through the council chambers, seeking the council’s permission.”

“Would that have been the worst thing? His position is critical to House Bartlett. HeisHouse Bartlett.” Sonja looked me over again. “I cannot abide by this.”

“You cannotabideby this? He is your prince, Sonja. You might be on the council, but you do not stand above Prince Bartlett.” Petrona sounded severe, and she leaned forward further, reaching out with one of her hands and patting Sonja’s knee.

“That’s the problem. Wedostand above Prince Bartlett,” Sonja said. “And he has been fully happy with that. Someone tried to kill him twice—theydidkill members of this house, and he didn’t even look into it! There has been no council of war, no talk about finding the culprit. Do you seethisas him maturing? Do you truly see him choosing this man as him being willing to accept his father’s crown?”

Petrona leaned back, her hand falling away from Sonja, resting back on her cane.

“You,” Petrona said sharply, and then she shook her head, changing her tone, “Miles, do you have any ill intentions for House Bartlett? Do you intend to hurt us or the prince?”

I shook my head and answered, “No.”

“Whatareyour intentions?” Sonja shifted in her chair. She was wearing a high-necked shirt, the soft cotton hiding anything beneath her throat. Her long leather boots reminded me for a moment of Cade’s foot on my face.

“My intentions?” I asked. Sonja narrowed her eyes. At least one of them wasn’t buying my slow and stupid act. “Cade… I mean, Prince Bartlett and I discussed how I could help him. He talked about how it would benefit me. Isn’t that enough? That I want to help him, and by helping him, I can benefit?”

Even Petrona was looking at me with narrowed eyes now, as though she, too, was seeing through mydon’t mind me. I’m too big to know betterfaçade. Words had always been my mother’s tool, diplomacy and finding the balance between two opposing forces. My father had always said that we would get our size from him, but our strength would come from our mother.

The room around us darkened, going hazy and shiny. Every light bulb began to sparkle and glow, and Sonja’s own skin looked as though it were made of gemstones.

“Can you promise that? Will you make me that promise, Miles with no last name and no pack name?”

“Stop.” At the word, ice cut through the room, shattering the warm yellow of the light, the rainbows Sonja had painted on the walls. Petrona was glaring at Sonja. “He is Cade’s intended consort, and you would dare to cast spells on him?”