I was called the traitor queen. The challenge itself was a mockery.
The Auroch is an impossible creature to kill, even with the strength of ten people. If I hadn’t answered the challenge, then my Royal Knight must have done it in my stead.
“Others shouldn’t have to be punished for serving under a foolish queen,” the Aeonians had decreed.
And so all thirty-three Aldarelf withdrew their noble sons from their service as my Royal Guard.
Rainer hosted a competition or a calling of sort for those who wish to be my Knight. Only one person answered the summon.
A bastard son of a miner. Darstan.
It was basically a death mission. My uncle was sending him to die.
My mind returns to the council room as I stare back at Duvall. That remark he made was to remind everyone in the room of my foolishness fifty years ago.
But I’m no longer afraid as I stare at the Aeonian’s messenger dead in the eye. Foolish my letter may have been, but Darstan returned home victorious.
“It’s not a bad idea,” Lady Eilidh suddenly says, to my surprise. “If I’m being honest, Lord Chavasky has been trading lambskin and wool with Myrkheim for years now. It’s good business.”
“I see no harm in sending a word,” Seneschal Kearne agrees.
Then one by one the council members express their willingness to form new relations with our neighboring kingdom. The sudden change of air is good.
Lord Baldar braces his muscled hands on the long table. “I heard Eirik Bloodhound managed to trade some of his fruit fairy prisoners with fae wine. I can’t see a reason why we can do the same.”
“Who will pay that absurd bounty?” Duvall asks, his voice straining as members of the council turn on him one by one.
“Völundr offers to bear the ransom amount,” I announce.
“It’s three thousand chests of gold and silver now,” Duvall mutters, propping his head on a hand.
“No matter the price,” I say confidently. Rainer cares little for wealth these days. So do I.
“Very well,” he says easily.
The council votes in agreement unanimously, and just like that, Blaire is coming home. My heart swells in my chest.
“I also volunteer to lead the envoy for the bounty.” I do not alter my focus from the messenger’s blue eyes as I say it.
“No one sends their precious queen on a measly treaty plan,” Duvall says, carrying the voice of the six masters controlling him. “You are too valuable. The Valorians will do it in your stead.”
The Aeonians have no problem shoving me in front of a vampire to secure an Arawynn bond. Garrett’s stories never paint the Valorians in a good way. I’m done playing their games.
“I will go myself,” I insist.
“Is there a reason you could not trust the Valorians?” Duvall counters.
“Of course, I have faith in our Holy Knights.” The lie slips easily from my mouth.
“Speaking of faith, how well do you trust the vampire in the tower?” His voice gains a cruel edge.
I trust Svenn with my own life.
“I trust him,” I say calmly.
“Fair enough. He’s your husband,” Duvall says in dismissal. “But what of the rest of you?”
Anger threatens to break into my artificial High Elf grace. I know he’s baiting me and I’m falling for it.