Chapter Sixteen

MER

“Time to go!”

Mer glanced over her shoulder to the dowager queen, who swept into the suite like she owned it.

She spun slowly and slung a hip against the stone banister of the balcony despite her pounding heart.

The fear of heights had always plagued her, but fear was just part of the mind.

A person could work through it. Or so she told herself.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Mer asked. After her little appearance the night before, she’d hoped that they would leave her to her own devices for a few days. She had hoped that the king might show up so she could give him a tongue lashing for the trick he’d pulled last night.

Do you really want to see him?

She’d tipped her hand. The bloody man just made her see red. He ruined every carefully well thought out plan by just breathing.

It was annoying.

“Come inside, daughter,” the dowager queen called, walking to Mer’s breakfast platter and eyeing the spread. “Does the food not meet your expectations?”

It was clear the older monarch wasn’t going anywhere.

Mer left the open balcony and trudged back inside, missing the fresh air already. She padded to the fire and held her hands out to warm them. “It was sufficient.”

“You hardly touched a thing.”

She turned and met the queen’s narrowed gaze. “I ate the fruit.”

“You need protein. You must build your strength.”

“I agree, but not cooked ham and eggs.” Her stomach rolled just thinking about the cooked greasy meat.

The dowager queen cocked her head. “Too heavy?”

“Not exactly.” She appraised the older woman. “I come from the sea, my lady. We don’t have cooked meat as your land does.”

Understanding dawned across the dowager queen’s face. “Would you like fresh fish brought to you?” The older woman looked slightly ill as she asked.

“I will survive on bread and fruit in the morning. If I desire fish, I will obtain it myself.”

“A queen does not fish.”

“A queen doesn’t try to murder her husband, and yet here we are.” Mer grinned.

The dowager queen rolled her eyes in a very unladylike way. “You’re just as bad as my son. You mustn’t say such things.”

Like the king. Mer’s smile turned into a frown.

She didn’t want to be compared to that blackguard in any way. Crossing her arms, she arched a brow at the older woman. “Did you come here to critique my eating habits, or is there a reason for your visit?”

Clasping her hands together, the dowager queen smiled, but it was a touch devious. “I’m here to help you acclimate to your new schedule. We’re already late. Your ladies are waiting just outside. Shall I call them in to help you dress?”

So that’s why the dowager queen was here. To make sure she dressed appropriately.

Mer grimaced. “Let them in.”

She knelt at the chapel in Onyx Palace. Her legs still burned from all the stairs they’d taken to reach the base of the palace.

Mer stared at her embroidered skirts and resisted the urge to tug at the long forest-green sleeves that ended in points at her middle fingers. She’d always admired the fabrics above, but wearing the scratchy material was something else altogether.

She had a feeling her wardrobe had arrived at the palace but was being hidden from her.

Mer smiled. It was no matter. Soon enough, she’d discover its location or make her own as she’d done for the banquet the night before.

While she was now a Methian queen, she didn’t have to dress like one and erase her Sirenidae heritage.

“Why are you smiling?” the dowager queen asked from her right.

She peeked at the woman from beneath her lashes, keeping her head bowed. “Should I not?”

“It looks as if you’re planning something devious.”

“Maybe I am,” she whispered.

“Stars help me,” the dowager queen muttered. “Pay attention. Soon you shall lead the morning meditations.”

“This seems an odd custom. Do you really do it every day?”

“It’s to bring peace to the mind. The world can be a difficult place, and as a queen, there are many responsibilities that you must carry out. It can feel like too much if you don’t center yourself and distinguish what is truly important. Meditation helps with this.”

An interesting practice, but why only the queens? “And does the king meditate as well?”

“Yes.” A smile curled the dowager queen’s lips, and her gaze flitted past Mer’s shoulder.

She stiffened as Raziel knelt to her left, the sleeve of his own shirt brushing her arm. Heat soaked into her body, and she tried to shuffle closer to the dowager queen, but to no avail. The bloody skirts kept her immobile. Why did humans prefer so much fabric? It seemed like a waste.

Her musings screeched to a halt as the king reached for her hand. Mer’s head snapped up when he laced their fingers together. Cold silver eyes held her own, daring her to pull away. She narrowed her eyes at him for a second.

Mer registered the queen edging away from them. The bloody traitor.

“Your head is supposed to be bowed and your eyes closed,” the king murmured, a wry note in his voice.

“You first.”

He blinked at her and then, to Mer’s surprise, bowed his head and closed his eyes.

She studied his profile with suspicion. Just what was he up to?

Why acquiesce so quickly? Her gaze ran over his strong jawline, sharp cheekbones, and sooty lashes.

He had an aristocratic nose that had been broken once, at least, and full dusky lips.

He’d tied his wine-colored hair back, revealing several piercings along his rounded ear.

Mer eyed a black marking peeking along the edge of his collar. What was that?

“You’re staring.” His voice was flat.

Mer dropped her head and crushed her skirts with her right hand. She had been, in fact, staring.

More like assessing her target.

A likely story.

Her fingers began to tingle, and the heat from his hand soaked into her palm in a way that was wholly unwelcome but not completely uncomfortable.

When was the last time someone held your hand?

A memory of Ream flashed through her mind. Lying on a warm rock, hands laced together as he smiled down at her.

Mer jerked, blinking quickly as tears filled her eyes.

“Are you alright, my lady?” the king whispered.

“I’m fine,” she snapped a little too loudly.

He squeezed her hand. “You’re strangling my fingers.”

Mer released her death grip on his fingers and got ahold of herself. After months of pushing down her feelings and focusing on her mission, Mer’s emotions were rising to the surface, unruly and uncontrollable.

It was inconvenient.

She inhaled and exhaled slowly, counting her heartbeats. Mer couldn’t look away from their laced fingers. Hers slim and silvery, his calloused and burnished. Her stomach twisted. It made a stunning contrast.

Squeezing her eyes closed against the sight, she let her mind drift.

She’d expected the king to lock her away after her performance the night before.

During her voyage, Mer had studied the Methian culture.

She’d known Methians were conservative in dress and public affection before she’d even taken a step on Methi soil.

Goading the king with her shocking dress and blatant display of faux interest had been a way to test his mettle. She hadn’t expected him to play along.

She’d underestimated him.

Something that wouldn’t happen again.

While she didn’t trust the king, she had to grudgingly admit that his principles were more merciful than those of the sea.

An attempt on the life of a royal would have been met with a swift beheading.

And a public act of defiance against the monarchy would have resulted in severe punishment.

So far, she only had a few bumps and bruises, and to be honest, Mer deserved them.

Now that she wasn’t a thousand feet in the air, she understood the king’s actions.

Not that she forgave him for them.

She would have done worse to someone threatening her life or those she loved.

Correction, Mer had done worse.

Her mind returned to the last Scythian warrior she’d kidnapped.

She finally had a name and place to start her search.

Guilt rose swiftly, but she shoved the feeling down deep. At least something good had come from the interrogation.

Ceto.

The mysterious entity was supposedly in Methi.

Glancing out of the corner of her eye at the hulking king at her side, Mer pursed her lips in thought.

While a Methian queen had many duties, they weren’t enough to keep her busy.

She could easily slip out for a time without her ladies.

And if she really wanted, she could bring them with her to explore her new kingdom.

Because what new queen wouldn’t want to experience all the joys of her new land?

King Raziel opened his eye and arched a brow at her. “Why are you smiling?”

Mer’s smile widened. She refused to look away. “Just thinking about what the future holds.”

“Something bloody, no doubt.”

His dry tone pulled an unexpected laugh from her. Mer dropped her skirt and clasped a hand over her mouth at the shhh from the dowager queen. The king’s eyes creased at the corners when he returned her smile.

Depths below, he was handsome.

At the thought, Mer stiffened and dropped his hand.

The king’s smile disappeared, and furrows appeared between his brows as he scanned her expression. She turned her face away from him and glared at her skirts once again. What was wrong with her? How could such a depraved thought pop into her mind? This was the man who’d taken everything from her.

He didn’t even remember taking Ream’s life. Crushing hurt bore down upon her until she wanted to lash out just for some relief.

Don’t overreact. Don’t push him away. You need him. For now.

“I would like to visit the city,” she whispered softly, her voice shaking. “I would like to see how our people live.”

She could feel his intense gaze on the side of her face, but she refused to look at him.

“An escort could be arranged.”

The tension between her shoulders released. “That would be appreciated.”

The dowager queen sighed and lifted her head. “If you two are going to keep talking, we might as well do some exploring now before the queen has her fitting for her new wardrobe and we discuss her coronation.”

Mer glanced at the older woman, who stared at them with exasperation and a touch of something else.

Hope.

The most dangerous emotion of all.

This is what you want.

She nodded to the dowager queen and blinked repeatedly as a large hand was shoved in front of her face. What was this? Why help her up? She was perfectly able to rise herself. Mer glanced around the room, noting all the attention on them.

Another ruse. To look like a gentleman.

Mer took his hand and allowed the king to pull her to her feet. Mer tipped her head back and mutely watched him tuck her arm into his. She curbed the reaction to jerk away.

“Shall we?” he rumbled.

Mer painted a fake smile on her face and nodded. He led her from the chapel aisle, smiling at courtiers as they passed, the dowager queen and her ladies trailing them. Mer squinted at one of her new ladies that hadn’t helped dress her. She just about gaped as she recognized one.

Mazie. The female warrior who’d ridden with her after the attempt on the king’s life.

Interesting. It seemed that perhaps her maids weren’t all they seemed to be.

Mazie caught her look and batted her long sooty lashes as if to say, “Are you happy to see me again?”

Mer grinned and winked at the warrior.

King Raziel leaned down and whispered in her ear, causing the hair along the back of her neck to rise. “Be careful with that grin. You might scare someone with the deviousness of it.” They reached a set of immense double doors, and Mer fought not to roll her eyes.

“If anyone is devious, it’s you, my lord,” she murmured, nodding to a fancy-looking lady to her left who curtsied. Two footmen pulled open the doors, and she blinked at the blinding rays of sun. “Don’t think I didn’t notice your plant among my ladies.”

The king smiled broadly, not in the least bit ashamed. “I take your protection seriously.”

Mer snorted, her smile turning brittle. “Mazie is here for my protection? I’m surprised you could say that with a straight face.”

He shrugged. “Believe what you want, but for the love of the heights, wipe that false smile from your face. It’s so tight, it looks as if you’re going to break your teeth.”

She adjusted her smile into one of closed lips and softened her expression as he led her outside for the first time since she’d arrived in Methi. “Better?”

“It would be if it was real,” he muttered, cold amusement glittering in his eyes.

If he really knew what made her smile these days, he’d lock Mer up in no time.