Page 53 of Blood On His Lips

If I was cold before, now I felt as if someone had buried me six feet deep in an iceberg. “What does that mean?”

“I have punished mine. You will punish yours—you are correct. The consequences should come from the hands of their sworn Lord.”

Warmth drained from my face as I stared at him. “You want me to murder one of my people?”

“Murder?” He lifted a brow. Lowered it. “No. But a child of my House lies dying, and a child of Labornne is dead. Who is responsible?”

“I said I would take the punishment on my own shoulders.”

“No. All that teaches is that the consequences of one's actions are escaped by visiting them on another. That is not the lesson I wish them to learn today. That is not the lesson I wishyouto learn.”

He held out a hand. I considered my choices, then stepped forward and took it. He drew me close to him, close enough our chests brushed, close enough that there was no doubt about our rumored personal relationship. I looked up into his remote face, his eyes glimmering down at me.

Renaud lowered his lips to my ears. “You cannot beg me to stay my hand twice in one week, my halfling. . .I warned you. You must husband your favors, and learn to spend them strategically, where it most benefits your House.”

“Don’t let our personal issues affect governance. This is life and death. Not a lover’s quarrel. Not a game.” Frustrated, I dug my free hand into his shoulder, my nails pinching deep. He didn’t flinch.

“Is there any other game but that of life and death?”

The fingers not wrapped around mine lifted, brushed a strand of hair out of my face. “Unfortunately, Lady of Faronne, you have nothing to offer me that would justify indulgence after these broke my law in front of the entire city. I cannot humor you without revealing my great weakness.”

I jerked away from him, laughing, a bitter bark. “Mercy is your weakness?”

Prince Renaud shook his head. “Not mercy. You. Which you already know, or you would not speak to me the way you do in public.”

That was my only warning—it should have been enough, when would I learn?—before he turned, stepping away, and suddenly one of the youths from my House was at his feet—

—then in the air, dangling and choking with Renaud’s hand around his neck.

Soma, Delphine’s brother. The siblings were a rare pair of orphans. I was just old enough to remember them as toddlers getting under our feet during light training sessions.

“Please don't kill him. Please put him down.” I stepped towards the Prince, my eyes on Soma. “You don't even know if he's guilty. Prince. Please.”

“How easily you beg.” He tossed the boy to my feet and looked at me. “Ask who is responsible for my dying cousin.”

“He was protecting his sister.”

“An excuse. Either you take his life, or I will. Choose, Aerinne.”

Soma was choking and wheezing at my feet. He started to push up, but I put my hand on his shoulder, hard, and he stilled.

“I will not do this. And neither will you. We will solve this in a court. In the peace talks started by you. Remember those?”

“Careful,” the Prince said. “Your time is up, my halfling.”

A clap of thunder almost drowned his voice, but this time I was paying attention.

I didn't allow myself to think, only to react, grounded and sheltered under the certainty that what I attempted was right and just. I didn't care if Renaud was the Prince, he had no right to be judge, jury, and executioner, and all in the space of a few moments. He had no right to force those roles onme. He had no right to speak of lessons and assume a role in administering them.

I moved a split second before the Prince, watching his eyes. The slight paling, and how the pinpricks of swirling blue vanished a moment before he began to move forward.

I grabbed Soma and threw him towards Numair, unsheathing my sabre and dagger and intercepting Renaud, taking care to keep my movements defensive. I wouldn’t attack, I’d leaned the folly of that and in truth I didn’t want to fight him. But I would protect my people.

Our blades clashed. His sword hadn’t been in his hand even a half second before.

“Ah,” he said softly. “A poor decision. A bold one, but poor. Very well. The young must always learn the hard way.”

ChapterSeventeen

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