Page 9

9

Merrick

E risandra’s little gathering infuriated me. From the moment Reyla arrived, my mother had done whatever she could to unsettle my court. To drive a wedge between Reyla and me. To wrest control of the kingdom away from us.

I would not allow this to continue.

Their gazes scattered like rodents under mine. Whatever strings they were tugging on, they were doing it in plain sight, and that irritated me more than anything else. It was disrespectful at best, treachery at worst. This court would not thrive if it rotted on the inside.

Too many were watching and waiting for cracks to appear. I would not break my resolve. But as much as I wanted to challenge her some more, everyone was listening. Everything I said or did in response to her taunt would be reported throughout the kingdom .

If I shrugged this off, it would strike later, when I least expected it. Better to have an inkling of what might be creeping up behind me.

With a tilt of my chin, I signaled Talvon. He strode toward me, his boots whispering across the marble floor as he leaped onto the dais and hurried over to stand beside my throne. The silver threading through his deep red livery gleamed in the lights. Leaning close, he inclined his head, blocking my mouth from view.

“Find out what they were talking about,” I said.

Talvon’s lips twitched with a feral grin. “It would be an honor, Your Majesty.”

He’d draw out answers without causing ripples to spread. After giving him a nod, he turned smoothly, his tunic shifting across his back as he descended the dais stairs. He strode toward the back of the room, lowering himself onto a bench with a loose, casual air countered by his intense focus on every single person in the room.

Facing the court, I lifted my hand.

The herald strode out into the center of the open area, silencing the whispers that had started up again in the crowd. His voice rang out. “Dalva Grevald, step forward and present yourself before His Majesty, King Merrick and Her Majesty, Queen Reyla.”

All heads turned as the woman stood among the crowd. She hesitated, her hands smoothing the skirt of her brown dress before she eased along the row and walked down the long aisle. I didn’t miss the way her trembling fingers clutched her skirt. Lines of worry had been carved into her brow, and her braided blonde hair swayed against her back with each step. When she reached the end of the aisle, she curtsied, her head bowing low.

“Rise, Dalva Grevald.” I sat straighter. Reyla mirrored my posture, her eyes narrowing as she studied the other woman. I had no doubt she was also pulling every detail from Dalva’s appearance like me.

Dalva straightened, her shoulders squaring. “Your Majesties.” Her voice came out clear and strong. “I’m a farmer who lives outside the city wall, near the northeastern grove. My family has tended that land for many generations. During all that time, we’ve worked in peace. Until recently.”

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the arms of my throne. “What has changed?”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, and she clasped her hands in front of her waist. “Something has been attacking at night. It comes without warning and kills quickly, then vanishes before we catch a glimpse of it.”

Hisses rippled through the room, the audience shifting in their seats.

“If anyone present has insight into these attacks, now is the time to speak,” I drawled.

Gazes turned away, focusing on anywhere but me.

Dalva’s lips pressed into a tight line, and she glanced back before she faced me and spoke again. “I’ve come here to beg for help, Your Majesties. I’ve lost over half of my flock in the past month, not to mention twelve chickens. I fear my remaining sheep won’t last much longer. Without them, my family will have nothing to live on.”

My jaw tightened. This was exactly the sort of issue that needed addressing before the people outside our walls turned their backs on us. But our resources were stretched thin. A few of the high lords and ladies had recently begged for a lowering of their tithes, stating with tight times, they couldn't afford to pay their share. As Reyla had pointed out, it took considerable coin to maintain a kingdom. Though my family was not without its own wealth, and I'd gladly give everything to ensure my people were safe, I had to take care where and how I spent our coffers.

I covered my mouth and spoke to Wildfire in a low voice. “What do you suggest?”

It wasn’t only a question. I was showing her I trusted her input in this as well. My time… our time, was running out, and I had to prepare her for the worst. Every decision she made now, small or large, would carry beyond this room. She had to learn to bear the load if I wasn’t here to help shoulder it. The thought of her facing this world without me made my chest burn like an open wound.

The calculation behind her brown eyes and the thinning of her lips told me she was thinking this through. Her voice dropped. “Do we have enough guards to spare for the farmlands?”

“Not without leaving other areas exposed.”

Determination crossed her face and she whispered something that made me pause. Before I could respond, though, the doors at the back of the throne room burst open, banging into the walls.

A man stumbled inside, swaying like a puppet with severed strings. All the blood had leached from his face, and his eyes had gone wild. Blood—too much blood—soaked his clothing, dripping off his fingertips and splattering onto the red runner with every staggering step.

“Help,” he choked, his voice gurgling and wet.

He collapsed onto the red carpet before anyone could move.