son.
“You are embellishing,” Xander said quietly. “The courtyard walls were in disrepair, but that had much to do with the battle. The inside of the castle was cold but clean. And we found no more food here than was outside.”
“Bah!” Lord Reginald waved his son away dismissively. “You weren’t the first here. You don’t know.”
“And how is the former queen adjusting to her new station?” The wife of a visiting lord leaned forward, inclining her head to better look at Avin, who returned her gaze so coolly that the older woman instantly looked away.
“With grace,” Xander said, turning to look at his father. “Grace befitting nobility, and some would be wise to follow her lead in the presence of the king.”
Avin almost gasped. Xander’s words were an obvious criticism of his father, spoken in her defense. From over his cup, Lord Reginald’s shocked eyes moved from his son’s to Avin, who returned his stare as she took an offered morsel of bread from the king’s hand. A crumb clung to her mouth, and Xander gave her a small, reassuring smile as he carefully wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. When Avin looked back at Lord Reginald, his expression was grim. He did not speak further during the meal.
Avin enjoyed her hand-fed offerings of roast swan, stewed mussels, beets, cheese, bread, and honeyed cakes. Focusing on Xander not only made it easier, just as he’d promised, it also projected the image he desired—a benevolent king who’d rendered his rival queen an obedient slave.
It was easier than she thought it would be, both because nearness to Xander made her feel safe, but also because his kind treatment seemed to enrage Lord Reginald, who’d obviously been hoping the day’s entertainment would include public debasement of King Leon’s daughter.
Even as the dining continued, Xander rose to announce he had other commitments and would be returning his slave to her quarters. In her simple but elegant gown, Avin knew she still cut a regal silhouette, and could feel the admiring eyes of men and the wistful eyes of women on her as she followed her master king.
In the hallway outside the room, a man intercepted them.
“Avin,” Xander said. “This is my advisor, Cynric.”
“I know who he is,” she said quietly. “I once had spies, too.”
Cynric bowed his head. “It is a pleasure to meet the former queen.”
“There is no need to mock me,” Avin said.
“I am not mocking you,” Cynric said. “But I do have a warning. For both of you.”
This comment surprised her. Was she mistaken, or was this man addressing them collectively?
“Be mindful of what you reveal, especially to Lord Reginald. He has much invested, and will not abide threats.” He paused, raising an eyebrow at Avin. “Not even leashed ones.”
“He was out of line, Cynric,” Xander said.
“Yes, he was.” The advisor’s eyes darted back and forth. “But that changes nothing. You are king, but make no mistake; your father still holds enormous power, and has great influence. He loves you, sire, but he loves power more.” He looked at Avin. “And you, my proud beauty, he hates. Beware of what he baits you to reveal. In such an unstable situation, a glance, a gesture—anything hinting at an unwanted alliance—can be enough to invoke consequences neither of you desire.”
Others were emerging from the hall, and as Cynric drifted away, Avin marveled at how his face morphed from intensity to indifference as soon as he noticed people approaching. He was a chameleon, and although she realized Cynric had likely played architect to her ruin, she also realized he was just the type of man a king needed on his side.
“He’s right, you know,” she said to Xander once they were back in her room. “It would have been better if you’d been cold to me. I think we made a mistake.”
“He’ll get over it,” Xander said.
“You don’t understand,” she said. “Your advisor suggested your father was
“You are embellishing,” Xander said quietly. “The courtyard walls were in disrepair, but that had much to do with the battle. The inside of the castle was cold but clean. And we found no more food here than was outside.”
“Bah!” Lord Reginald waved his son away dismissively. “You weren’t the first here. You don’t know.”
“And how is the former queen adjusting to her new station?” The wife of a visiting lord leaned forward, inclining her head to better look at Avin, who returned her gaze so coolly that the older woman instantly looked away.
“With grace,” Xander said, turning to look at his father. “Grace befitting nobility, and some would be wise to follow her lead in the presence of the king.”
Avin almost gasped. Xander’s words were an obvious criticism of his father, spoken in her defense. From over his cup, Lord Reginald’s shocked eyes moved from his son’s to Avin, who returned his stare as she took an offered morsel of bread from the king’s hand. A crumb clung to her mouth, and Xander gave her a small, reassuring smile as he carefully wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. When Avin looked back at Lord Reginald, his expression was grim. He did not speak further during the meal.
Avin enjoyed her hand-fed offerings of roast swan, stewed mussels, beets, cheese, bread, and honeyed cakes. Focusing on Xander not only made it easier, just as he’d promised, it also projected the image he desired—a benevolent king who’d rendered his rival queen an obedient slave.
It was easier than she thought it would be, both because nearness to Xander made her feel safe, but also because his kind treatment seemed to enrage Lord Reginald, who’d obviously been hoping the day’s entertainment would include public debasement of King Leon’s daughter.
Even as the dining continued, Xander rose to announce he had other commitments and would be returning his slave to her quarters. In her simple but elegant gown, Avin knew she still cut a regal silhouette, and could feel the admiring eyes of men and the wistful eyes of women on her as she followed her master king.
In the hallway outside the room, a man intercepted them.
“Avin,” Xander said. “This is my advisor, Cynric.”
“I know who he is,” she said quietly. “I once had spies, too.”
Cynric bowed his head. “It is a pleasure to meet the former queen.”
“There is no need to mock me,” Avin said.
“I am not mocking you,” Cynric said. “But I do have a warning. For both of you.”
This comment surprised her. Was she mistaken, or was this man addressing them collectively?
“Be mindful of what you reveal, especially to Lord Reginald. He has much invested, and will not abide threats.” He paused, raising an eyebrow at Avin. “Not even leashed ones.”
“He was out of line, Cynric,” Xander said.
“Yes, he was.” The advisor’s eyes darted back and forth. “But that changes nothing. You are king, but make no mistake; your father still holds enormous power, and has great influence. He loves you, sire, but he loves power more.” He looked at Avin. “And you, my proud beauty, he hates. Beware of what he baits you to reveal. In such an unstable situation, a glance, a gesture—anything hinting at an unwanted alliance—can be enough to invoke consequences neither of you desire.”
Others were emerging from the hall, and as Cynric drifted away, Avin marveled at how his face morphed from intensity to indifference as soon as he noticed people approaching. He was a chameleon, and although she realized Cynric had likely played architect to her ruin, she also realized he was just the type of man a king needed on his side.
“He’s right, you know,” she said to Xander once they were back in her room. “It would have been better if you’d been cold to me. I think we made a mistake.”
“He’ll get over it,” Xander said.
“You don’t understand,” she said. “Your advisor suggested your father was
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