Page 124 of Wingless Crow: Part 1

The High Priest rose on his tail as Voron entered.

“How dare you—”

“The queen?” Voron demanded. “Where is she?”

The High Priest shifted his eyes to the doors in panic, clearly wishing the guards would do something about Voron’s sudden intrusion. Unfortunately for the High Priest, the guards reported to Alcon, the Head of the Royal Guard. And Alcon reported directly to Voron. Unless the queen personally ordered them, no one would dare remove him from here.

“Queen Pavline is praying in private,” the High Priest said, his gaze flickering to the door to one of the king’s private sitting rooms. “She’s not to be disturbed. Have some respect.”

“My respect has been in scarce supply lately, Holy Father. And now, I’m all out,” Voron snapped on his way to the sitting room.

As he stormed in, Queen Pavline jumped from a chair by the table with an open picture book on it. The pictures glowed over the pages, forming images in silver light. Voron recognized the faces of both portraits. One was High Lord Caitore, the other High Lord Bussard. Both were strong, virile men, not bonded and unmarried. Both with a claim to the crown.

If the queen was praying, it wasn’t for the restoration of the health of her current husband but for sending her a new one. Not that Voron blamed her. Now that he knew all about King Tiane’s perverted tendencies, he wondered just how miserable the royal marriage truly was for the queen.

She quickly shut the book. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to show myrespect,” he quipped.

Her quick, slim fingers tapped on the leather-bound cover of the book.

“Great. You showed it. Now leave.”

“In a minute.” He took a long look around the room.

She didn’t say “I order you,” allowing him to view her words as a request or a suggestion that could be ignored at his discretion. So, he ignored it. He sauntered to the nearest white-and-gold couch, lowered himself into it, and stretched his legs, crossing them at the ankles.

The queen leaned her hip against the table and folded her arms under her breasts. Her blue-and-green dress fell in shimmering folds down her tall, slender frame. Her hair was unbraided, draping over her shoulders in thick purple waves. Her appearance was striking even for sky fae.

The low neckline of her dress left the tops of her breasts exposed. As usual, the mating mark was painted on her left side, gold paint glistening against her dark-green skin. The letters P and T, the first letters of hers and the king’s names, intertwined in an intricate rosette of vines and flowers.

The royal couple weren’t bonded. Yet the queen had the mating mark painted over her heart almost daily to highlight her position as the royal spouse. That mark on her breast, the slim wreath of gilded thorns on her head, and her position at the king’s side during most official functions were all that differentiated the queen from any other lady of the court. The king gave her no extra attention. Until Sparrow felled him, Queen Pavline had no official duties, either.

Now, she had it all.

“What do you want, Voron?” she asked.

“I want the one thing I’ve been begging you for, for two days now—to talk.”

“About what?”

“You ordered me to bring Sparrow to you.”

“Yes, yes, you did well.” She waved her hand in the air. “Do you want a reward? What can you possibly wish for in addition to everything you have already received from us?”

“I just learned Sparrow was thrown in the dungeon.” He delivered the words without a flinch, but it took him a gargantuan effort to look unaffected.

“Where else do you want me to put her? She’s a criminal. She attacked the king. She belongs in a dungeon cell.”

His jaw tightened. He unclenched it, willing his voice to remain calm and even. Showing any emotion would be demonstrating a weakness. The queen would jump on any weakness of his like a vulture on dead meat, and she’d find a way to use it against him.

“There are no preparations for a trial,” he said. “Are you even planning to have one for her?”

The queen ran her fingers through the waves of her hair draped over her shoulder.

“Listen, High General, it’s been a few very challenging days for me. I didn’t plan for any of this to happen. The situation is unusual. The king is not dead. He’s still the one who is wearing the Sky Crown. Yet I’m left to make all decisions for the kingdom. I can’t even have a proper coronation for myself.”

“I sympathize, Your Majesty,” he lied. He couldn’t care less about which one of the royal heads the Sky Crown sat upon. His promises applied to the rightful ruler of the kingdom. In the king’s absence that was the queen. “But there is urgency to this case. Sparrow shouldn’t be in the dungeon.”

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