Chapter 11

Istood in the rear of Haluven's bedchamber with my arms folded over my chest. Some of the lords of the Winter Council had pushed for leaving the king in the Crypt, but I'd shot down that idea. Queen Maeve would lie in state in the Crypt until Haluven died. But he might linger for days…or longer. Liria didn't need to sit next to her dead mother while she said goodbye to her father.

A potent mix of guilt and fear plagued me as I watched her stroke his hand. Looking at her now, no one would guess she'd been bouncing on my dick half an hour ago. She cut an elegant figure in the chair one of the servants had placed next to the bed. She'd washed, and her ladies had dressed her in a black gown free of adornment. On anyone else, the severe style might have looked dowdy. But it emphasized her icy beauty and mouthwatering curves. Her hair was pinned away from her face, the rest of it tumbling freely down her back.

I shouldn't have fucked her. I couldn't make myself regret it, but I also couldn't ignore the stricken look she'd given me after we finished. Was it guilt? Maybe she felt like she'd given in. That by giving her body she'd ceded too much ground.

But she'd wanted me. If I'd harbored any doubts before tonight, they'd been put firmly to rest. And hers wasn't a childish infatuation. Maybe it had started out that way, but it hadn't been like that for a very long time. She'd been my equal tonight, unafraid to take her pleasure. It shouldn't have surprised me. If I was honest, the depth of her sexual experimentation shouldn't have surprised me, either. Liria's curiosity had always been her most prominent trait. When she wanted to know more about something, she didn't ask permission. She just went after it.

Like crossing the Covenant in the middle of the night.

I should have continued pressing her for answers. But I'd been ruined the moment I scented her desire. For more than two centuries, I'd fought to prove I was worthy of my father's name. That I possessed the honor and self-control required for knighthood. But I'd lost control tonight. Lust had gotten the better of me, just as Haluven predicted.

I needed to tell Liria everything, even if it hurt her. Even if it broke her heart. Otherwise, she'd try to claim the scepter as soon as Haluven passed. And it would end in disaster.

Movement by the door jerked me to attention. A pair of lords entered, pausing on the threshold as their gazes fell on the massive bed and Liria beside it. Both men served on the Council. The shorter one, Lord Nerial, was a pompous ass, but the taller of the two, Lord Galdorn, had always been decent. He'd been widowed for over a century, and rumor had it he abhorred court and preferred spending the majority of his time at his estate. As he studied Haluven, his son, Estalar, entered the chamber. He nodded to his father and Lord Nerial, then looked toward the bed. As his gaze fell on the king, Estalar paled, his eyes widening with apparent shock.

His reaction was understandable. Before Maeve fell into sorrow sleep, Haluven had been a strapping warrior with a handsome face and long, silver hair. He was unrecognizable now, his skin gray and shriveled, as if all the air had been sucked from his body. The servants had dressed him in the robes of state, but the regal clothes only made his appearance more jarring.

The lords stepped fully into the chamber and moved toward a knot of others who conversed quietly near the hearth. Other members of the Council ranged around the room, some seated in chairs servants had brought from other parts of the castle. A few lords sat or stood alone, as I did, but most had arranged themselves in groups, where they'd divided their time between whispering and casting sidelong looks at Liria.

If they thought I didn't notice, they were out of their fucking minds. They were plotting, the whole lot of them. Men who had served Haluven for centuries now circled his body like vultures, waiting to see which parts of his kingdom they could snatch for themselves.

And judging from the way they looked at her, Liria was clearly a factor in their calculations.

How had I ever believed I could watch her marry someone else? The thought of anyone in the room putting his hands on her was…

Blue fire flared to life above my wrist. I shook it away just as heads turned in my direction. One lord's gaze lingered on me, his dark brows drawing together. I stared him down, funneling as much fuck you into my eyes as I could until he flushed and looked away.

The hushed conversations continued as I yanked my jacket cuff down, covering the faintly glowing edges of my tattoos.

A moment later, Estalar eased away from his father's side and drifted in my direction.

I kept my eyes straight ahead, willing him to stay away. But he kept coming, slowly working his way around the edge of the chamber until he stood shoulder-to-shoulder with me. He stayed that way for several minutes, observing Haluven in silence. When the others in the room stopped flicking curious looks in our direction, he spoke without looking at me.

"Trouble is brewing, Morendiel."

Everything within me tensed. I didn't look at him as I asked, "What kind?"

Estalar's voice dipped below a whisper. "My father wishes to be king. He's persuaded several lords to join his cause."

That snake.I should have seen through Galdorn's facade. But I'd been so eager to believe he was as trustworthy as he seemed.

"He plans to move the moment Haluven dies," Estalar said. "He'll seize the scepter and the princess."

By some miracle, I stayed calm, my shoulders relaxed. "He means to wed her?"

"Mmm." Estalar pitched his voice so low, it was more of a suggestion than sound. "Everyone knows she can't keep the cold, my lord. No one wants to see Winter fail. My father is playing on those fears. Unless someone else challenges him, I'm afraid his coup will succeed."

Now, I understood why Estalar had sought me out. He was as ambitious as his father—and willing to sabotage his own sire.

"I'll give you this, boy," I said, "you have balls."

I sensed rather than saw Estalar's amusement. "Thank you, my lord, but I'm afraid I don't follow."

"You were one of Princess Liria's suitors. You want her for yourself."

"No. I'm a lot smarter than my father."

I risked a glance at him, catching the slightest curve of his lips.

"Unlike my sire," he said, "I spent time with Liria. Any man who tries to force her to the altar will lose those balls you spoke of."

Cautious relief flowed through me. "Why are you telling me this? You'll get your father killed."

"On the contrary, I'm trying to save his life." Estalar paused. "I know of one other lord who supports you. I believe I can persuade several more to join us."

My blood pumped harder. He spoke of me taking the scepter…and Liria. "No bastard has ever ruled Winter."

"No bastard has ever tried."

I shifted my gaze to Liria. She was still and solemn. And so, so beautiful. Despite her father's neglect and indifference, she mourned him. I believed she loved him. Would she hate me for taking her crown?

She'd hate me more if I stood by and let Galdorn plunge the kingdom into chaos. Because Estalar was right. Liria would never agree to a marriage she didn't want. No magic—not even the Old Language—could force her cooperation.

"Summon these favorable lords," I told Estalar. "I'll speak to them."