Page 90 of A Kingdom of Monsters

Scion nodded again, seeming to understand more than I did.

For something to do, I rose and crossed the room to the small bag of clothing and food we’d brought with us. I wished I’d packed a gown, but all I had was my magenta corseted coat from Inbetwixt and a pair of black trousers. Oh, and the crown, I supposed. “If I’m going I need to get dressed.”

Scion looked perplexed. “Why wouldn’t you be going, rebel?”

“I don’t understand the language, and if you two have to keep translating for me it will look strange, don’t you think?”

“I don’t care what it looks like,” Ambrose said hotly. “Still, I think you’re right. This dinner will be difficult for you. Just keep in mind that they all understand the common tongue perfectly, no matter what they try to make you believe. If they use it, they want to make sure you understand.”

I sighed. “This will hardly be the first uncomfortable meal I’ve sat through. I’m sure Cassidna has nothing on Raewyn.”

28

SCION

THE KEEP, NEVERMORE

The Lord of Nevermore was a prick.

The hall was lively with activity when the three of us arrived in the dining hall. There was a raucous band in the far corner and several tables had been moved to create a space for dancing. They’d hung decorations as if it were a festival and now multicolored flags hung from every wall. Several tapestries depicting enormous brown bears were placed above the doors.

If I didn’t know better—and perhaps even then—I’d say Bran had dragged every noble on the damn island out of bed, just for the pleasure of seeing us. That boded ill for our chances of success, and even worse for our chances of getting out of here without a fight.

The moment we entered the room, Lord Bran made an exaggerated show of greeting us.

“Prince Ambrose!” he boomed, his voice carrying to all corners of the room. “And Prince Scion. Welcome. Thank you for taking the time to share our table.”

He openly ignored Lonnie, as if she weren’t standing right there. I wasn’t sure she realized that, because he spoke the olde tongue and all she would have understood were our names, but it didn’t matter. I was livid on her behalf.

The snub was especially bold because Lonnie had worn the crown down to dinner—something I knew she despised, but which made the right statement. Anyone who wasn’t sure of her identity before would now certainly know. And, more importantly, they wouldn’t be able to feign ignorance.

Despite all that had happened—the coups, the rebellions, the destruction of the castle—Lonnie had still taken the crown from Penvalle by force. By the laws of Elsewhere, she was still the queen and the lord of Nevermore owed her his respect.

It was ironic, really. I’d spent months denying Lonnie’s claim to the throne and wishing I could rewrite the laws to have her banished. Now, I was rabid to defend her claim, and would gladly step aside if I ever found myself between her and the crown.

We’d been directed to sit at one of the several long wooden tables lining the long room, which was both dining hall and throne room. At least they didn’t dare to seat Lonnie at another table, and put her on the end next to me on one side and the wall on the other. It was only slightly rude, and suited me fine because it would be easier to protect her.

I didn’t even care that they’d put Ambrose to the right of Lord Bran, treating him as the highest ranked of the three of us,whereas in reality he had no status at all. At one point, that would have made me angry enough to attack Bran right here at the table. Now, my only concern was how the three of us would be separated should something go wrong.

“What are they saying?” Lonnie whispered, leaning over to me.

My eyes darted around the table. I didn’t know the nobles sitting directly in front of us, but from the way their ears had pricked up I guessed they spoke the common tongue.

Ah. Now I understood.

Bran was hoping that Lonnie spoke carelessly to me, not realizing that anyone could understand her. He’d probably placed his best common speakers all around us to pick up anything she let slide.

Under the table, I gripped her knee in a relatively obvious show of affection. Then, I leaned over and nipped at her ear, as if careless and drunk on lust. “Let’s not talk now, rebel,” I murmured. “I don’t want the entire table to hear what I’m going to do to you later.”

Lonnie looked at me sideways, her eyes narrowing. I prayed she understood what I was getting at. Don’t say anything, we’re not alone here.

She nodded, seeming to understand, and took a sip of her wine. I relaxed. I wasn’t sure what Bran was playing at, or why he cared what Lonnie had to say but I wasn’t taking any chances. The worst possible explanation was that Idris had somehow already reached Nevermore, and brought the lord over to his side. The kindest possibility was that Bran was nosey, and looking to exploit gossip for political clout. I wasn’t willing to risk either option.

I wasn’t afraid of Bran or his family, but the situation with Nevermore was complicated in a way I would never be able to satisfactorily explain to Lonnie in the little time that we had.

The island had been flirting with succession for generations, and it wasn’t difficult to see why. Their culture was different from ours, as was their language. They were geographically separated from the continent, and they’d been governing themselves for centuries.

The problem was that we couldn’t allow them to become independent.

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