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Chapter Two

RAZIEL

“We need to speak.”

Ever since the queen had passed the crown down to him, he’d been buried in paperwork. Raziel glanced over the top of the latest trade proposals from the new Aermian king, Tehl, and locked eyes with his mother.

She’d always been dramatic when entering a room. Her taffeta dress rustled as she stomped through his personal study and library before placing her hands on the top of his mahogany desk.

He inwardly groaned and set the trade agreement down. Just what had set her off? “When have I ever denied you, Mum?”

She narrowed her silvery eyes—the same ones he’d inherited from her. Well, the gray, at least. Surviving the Mirror Plague had given them both a metallic sheen to their gaze. The dowager queen clicked her long red nails against his desk. “Don’t you ‘Mum’ me. You constantly defy me.”

“Isn’t that what you want in a king?” he teased with a smile.

“What I want is for you to stop shooting down every eligible woman that comes your way.”

So that’s what this was about.

Raz leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, feeling prickly. This was a constant sore subject for them. She wanted heirs for the throne and a cure for the plague, and he wanted to make Methi more secure by trade agreements.

They were at an impasse.

“Evanthe was not for me.” The thought alone made him queasy.

“She would have made a lovely queen.”

Raz gritted his teeth. A ruthless queen, to be sure, but he couldn’t imagine living with the woman. They’d grown up around each other, and it would be like marrying his sister. An irritating, fierce sister.

His mother tossed her hands in the air and flopped back into one of his leather chairs in a very unqueenly way.

Her steely eyes pinned him to the spot as she laced her fingers over her stomach.

“What do you want, Raziel? Ever since Mira denied you, you’ve changed. You’re drifting with no true anchor.”

He hated the little twinge of pain that pricked him at the mention of Mira—the woman he’d loved and had hoped to make his wife. But she’d not been for him. Mira had been happily married for a few months to a good man, although one who didn’t deserve her.

As if you were worthy of Mira.

He sighed and glanced to the right at the fire in the hearth—away from the knowing glint in his mother’s gaze. Raziel had never been able to hide anything from her. She had an uncanny way of pulling his secrets from him.

“I loved her,” he whispered softly. A painful truth. One he did not regret.

“And because of this unrequited love, you refuse to take a wife?”

“No.” While there was a special place in his heart for Mira, he wasn’t still pining. “My illusions of finding a love match like yours and father’s are well and truly over. I have moved on and will only marry for the betterment of Methi.”

His mum arched a brow. “Is that so? And Evanthe?”

He cleared his throat. “I’ve found no woman that fulfills those terms, including Evanthe.”

His mum snorted. “Terms. How unromantic.”

She slowly sat up and climbed out of the chair.

His mother rounded his desk and laid her hand over his shoulder.

He peered up at the woman who’d lost the love of her life too early, raised four children on her own, mourned two, and made a kingdom prosper despite the sickness.

With her graying hair and wrinkles kissing the corners of her eyes and mouth, she was beautiful.

“Have you really decided not to look for a love match?” she asked softly.

“I’ve made my mind up,” he replied gruffly. “There are too many things our kingdom needs. I cannot be so selfish as to marry for love. It will be by necessity.”

“So be it.” She squeezed his shoulder with a sigh. “Then I have a proposition for you.”

“Oh?” he questioned, arching a brow.

“I’ve found what you seek. A trade agreement for Methi and a bride that comes with it.”

He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at his mum.

There were Aermian duchesses, but none who could offer his kingdom what they needed.

Blaise, the new Scythian Queen, was currently settling her kingdom after deposing the Warlord.

They wouldn’t be offering a political marriage.

Plus, his brother seemed quite enamored with the woman.

He’d heard rumors of Nagalian princesses, but they were trying to rebuild their deserted kingdom. Just who had his mother secured?

The queen mother gave him a sly smile. “You don’t know, do you?”

He cocked his head. “Who is it?” A sinking feeling settled in his gut.

“A Sirenidae princess.”

Blast it.

A blessing and a curse.

“You cannot be serious,” he snapped. “They are demons in disguise. They collect bones for treasures. They’re not natural.”

“Be that as it may, they also have healers and access to the best herbs in our known world. We need both desperately. If we don’t stop the newest wave of the blight, we won’t have any people left to govern.”

Raz pushed out of his chair, running his hands through his hair.

He spun and faced the three arched windows of his study.

The capital city of Skigara sprawled around the castle that was carved into the side of the Hollow Mountains.

Dark green pine trees kissed the edge of the city and spread out like a large blanket, only broken up by farms and smaller villages.

It was beautiful, but its beauty hid the truth.

His people were dying.

You must do something.

Bile burned the back of his throat as he thought of taking a Sirenidae princess as his bride. Would her skin be cold and clammy? Would she try to control his mind using the Lure? Would she steal his soul and feast on it?

“Do you truly have a contract from the Sirenidae king?” he forced himself to ask.

“I do.”

“Why now?” He turned and met his mother’s gaze. “We’ve been at odds with those creatures for years. What could they possibly want from us? What are they not telling us?”

“It’s my understanding that Sirenidae live a very long life. If a daughter of Thalassa was married to a king,” she blew out a breath, “then once you die, the kingdom would belong to your heir... and she would be regent.”

Anger heated his chest. “So, they seek to steal our kingdom.”

His mother rolled her eyes. “Every country seeks to expand their borders and improve their land—Sirenidae are no different. We just need to have a plan put into place.”

He picked a fiilee hair from his black velvet vest and stared at it before tossing it out the window. “We gain healers for the Mirror Plague.”

“And herbs from the trenches.”

His gaze sharpened. “Are you quite sure?” The life-lengthening herbs were impossible to get their hands on, even if they were royal. The Sirenidae guarded the plants fiercely.

“We’ve been granted an allotment along with treasures from the sea.”

Raziel smirked. “You mean treasures they’ve pilfered from sunken ships that were probably ours to begin with.”

His mum huffed. “I see you’re determined to be negative, so I shall take my leave.”

He reached out and caught the dowager queen’s hand before she could leave. “I will think on this. Please have the contract brought to me. I will consider it.”

“That’s all I ask.” She squeezed his fingers and then bustled out of the room as quickly as she’d come in.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he sat in his chair and stared blankly at the desk.

The existence of the Mirror Plague was a fiercely guarded secret.

Methi’s borders had been closed until the Warlord’s War.

Even then, only loyal warriors who’d survived the plague were permitted to leave.

Not one foreign person had set foot on Methian soil in over thirty years.

If the plague ever spread, their kingdom would be blamed.

They needed a remedy now.

It seemed a dangerous cold bride could be just the cure.