Page 35 of Heir to His Court

I allow him to live, a male you offered your submissiveness.Another courting gift to you, halfling. You will receive no more mercy of this kind.

ChapterEleven

Renaud’s anger lingered like dry ice in the air. I wasn’t silly enough to accuse him of jealousy, but we needed to talk face-to-face before the conference resumed in the morning. It would be a poor idea to let that jealousy I wasn’t going to mention fester.

Sitting at my desk, I penned a formal request for a pre-dawn audience, using quill and ink and our finest paper, the envelope sealed with my personal sigil in gold wax. I sent it via swift courier, and a swift courier returned two hours later with a note from the palace seneschal expressing gracious pleasure at the opportunity to grant my request.

I dressed in Everenne Court robes in a blatant attempt to soften his mood, grimacing at the layers of rich satin brocade, high necked with draping sleeves when I’d rather be in a simple summer sheath walking Avallonne’s shores, the sun bronzing my skin to its deepest hue.

Aunt Fatma braided the top of my hair and handed me a sheer swath of burnt orange fabric to wrap around the Faronne cobalt-and-vermillion. The red and orange reminded me of flames, of a rising phoenix. I caught her expression in the mirror and turned.

“What is it?”

She pursed her lips and slid into Kikuyu. “This is the man you want? Renaud?”

“I don’t have much choice.”

“Is that the truth?”

I hesitated. “No. I have a choice. I want him. It’s just. . .complicated.”

Her dark eyes danced. “Men are simple.”

“Renaud Gauthier is not a man.”

I had made many mistakes in my life, butthatwas not one. I saw him, clearly, for what he was. All of what he was.

Fatma waved a hand. “I’m not your father. I knew you and this Prince have been together far longer than you let on. You don’t look at each other like new lovers. Your looks hold history.”

I said nothing.

She sighed. “Listen to me, girl. That man picked you because you’re in his blood. Because you’re strong. Because you are Wairumu, from a line of women burned as enchantresses. Whatever it is you want from him, hide your claws until you need them. Men like that want to be worshiped. There is nothing headier than a strong woman offering her heart.”

“He’s an Old One. He’s bored with worship.”

“Maybe. But not bored withyourworship. Remind him of the rewards of pleasing you.” She smirked. “Punish him when he asks for it.”

How Fae. Faronne had changed from human influence, but so had the Wairumus changed from Fae influence.

“That’s pretty much all the time.”

She laughed. “Men will test their limits. Carrot and stick, girl. How do you think your mother captured my brother?”

I tilted my head. “She was Maryonne Capulette, High Lord of Faronne. If she wanted him, Baba would have had as little choice as I do. One does not refuse a High Lord anything.”

Fatma curled a lip, though there was remembered affection in it. “That woman. I will say this—she never told him no. Especially not once you were born.”

“She wouldn’t have, had Baba pressed an issue. She may have been a High Lord, but she had still been a Fae female.” I grimaced. “It’s our curse.”

She rolled her eyes and stepped back. “Go. You’ll be late for your audience.”

I kissed her cheek, and bowed. “Thank you, Auntie.”

The carriage took me to the palace, giving me too much time to think. I warred inside myself. The parts that accepted Raniel was my destiny and the parts that wanted to burn Renaud at a stake for what had happened to my mother and brother. But I was Fae, and a Lady of a House—one day I would be Lord—and I had to decide what vengeance would best serve my House, and what vengeance I must let fade to ashes.

Renaud had not meant to kill my mother. If I approached him correctly, he would release Danon, a release I must secure before Renaud learned of Embry.

“Lady Aerinne,” the Prince greeted when I entered a small receiving room.

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