Rhia’s eyes tightened as she said, “Come, Eriu, let’s get you settled,” then ushered her sister inside the castle.
“I don’t want to marry that man,” Eriu said in a loud whisper. She used that bratty, childish tone Rayghast hated. “Please, don’t make me marry him!”
“Women don’t dissent here,” Rhia replied, matter-of-fact, taking one last glance at Rayghast. “You will do whatever the council and Lord Silex demand.”
Once the sisters were out of sight, Wattling pulled Rayghast aside in a conspiratorial manner. “Your Grace, I would speak with you.” Checking over his shoulder to see that Cronhold and Dobbs had Silex engaged in conversation, Wattling produced a small vial from his pocket. “While conducting the search on Queen Rhia’s rooms, as requested, we uncovered this in her bedside drawer.”
Rayghast took the small bottle of plum-colored liquid in his fingers. “What is it?”
“We summoned an apothecary, who said this is some sort of tonic that women use to . . .” Wattling’s voice dropped to a low murmur. “To rid themselves of a child. We’re questioning one of the queen’s servants right now—”
Taking the stairs three at a time, Rayghast burst through Rhia’s bedroom doors, fury blazing inside him. Eriu was lying on the chaise, crying into a pillow. Rayghast’s wife sat at her vanity as one of her ladies brushed her long, straight hair. Rhia vaulted from her stool and into a low curtsey. Eriu, her ladies, and servants froze in place.
“Take the girl and get out,” Rayghast growled to the nearest maid. The woman quickly escorted Eriu from the room, closing the doors behind her. Rayghast pulled the vial from his pocket. “Recognize this?”
Rhia glanced from the vial to the floor. “No, My King.”
“I had men search your room this morning while you ate breakfast with your ladies.”
Rayghast prowled closer to Rhia. She tensed; the other ladies and servants in the room stared guilty at the floor.
“Apparently, this is a concoction that prevents pregnancy.”
“What are you implying, Husband?” asked Rhia, drawing herself up. “That I purchased that bottle? That I purposefully drank its contents to avoid having your child?”
“That is exactly what I’m implying,” he snarled. “Although, I’m sure you had one of your loyal ladies purchase it for you.”
His jaw ticked as he shot the women a glower. One of the servants bit her lower trembling lip.
Rhia screwed up her face into an expression of pity and heartbreak. She collapsed to her knees dramatically. “I was afraid, my dearest! Afraid of those rumors. Can you blame me for not wanting to die like your other wives?”
She should have been an actress instead of a wife.
“You went behind my back.”
“I meant no harm, Husband—”
“And I heard your wretched sister. She begged you to break off the betrothal with Lord Silex.”
“She’s too young,” Rhia said in desperation, body shaking with sobs, though Rayghast saw no tears. “She’s not ready to be a wife. Lord Silex would be quite disappointed in her. If we delay a year or so, she will—”
He had no time for this distraction, for her lies and deception, for her weakness and folly.
“Lord Silex doesn’t care how young she is. He cares that he’s getting a princess in exchange for his loyalty to the crown.”
Rayghast crushed the vial in his fist. The fragile glass pulverized to dust, as plum liquid dripped through his fingers and onto the rug.
“How dare you undermine me. This is treason. I should have you and all your ladies hanged for this.”
The servants and ladies-in-waiting gasped and shuddered. One cried silent tears. Another wet herself; the odor of urine assaulting Rayghast’s nostrils.
Yes, yes, urged the darkness within. It lapped at their fear like flames in a pyre. Kill them all.
Rhia, however, didn’t flinch. She got fluidly to her feet; her face wiped of emotion. “Do what you feel you must, Your Grace.”
The whirlpool of magic in his chest ceased. It fed on fear and hysteria, but Rhia’s voice, as cool and steady as stagnant water, doused the flames in his veins. The magic was once again bored by her.
Rayghast rolled his shoulders back with a crack.
“You’re fortunate I have a war to win. I don’t have time to deal with you,” Rayghast said through gritted teeth. “You won’t leave this room. You speak to no one. Your ladies and servants won’t be allowed entry.” He glanced up, and the other women scattered like mice into the hallway. “You may be the Queen of Tacorn, but I am your master. Your king. You belong to me.”
Rhia didn’t move. She didn’t shiver. She was done playing the innocent doll.
Rayghast stalked out the door and slammed it behind him.
Chapter 21
Marai
The Tacornian unit, dressed in their matte black armor, marched along the dirt road between Gloaw Crana and what seemed to be their next intended target of Dal Riata, a small mining town. Marai and the fae hid amongst the trees on the side of the road. She smelled the blood and fire on those thirty soldiers, who laughed, sharing tales of the slaughter. How many they’d killed, which Nevandians screamed and begged for their lives. How many women they’d raped.
Aresti ground her teeth. Raife nocked his bow. Leif’s fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword.
These soldiers were the embodiment of the wickedness of humans. The type of people who relished in hunting down the fae, who delighted in the massacre. Not all humans were reprehensible, but these ones were.
Marai and the fae had first portaled to Gloaw Crana, a quaint town now in smoldering cinders, civilian bodies strewn about, lying in puddles of dried blood. The other fae had gone quiet at the sight of such violence. Leif had squeezed his eyes shut, overcome by anguish, unwilling to look any longer.
They’d tracked these soldiers in silence for several hours, spurred on by incandescent vengeance. Marai would have portaled them directly to the unit’s location, but she’d summoned a lot of magic in the past few days; enough that her well would have previously been depleted. Thanks to her work with Keshel in the Badlands, she was stronger than before, but Marai had to be careful how much more she used.
