Page 13 of Heir of Illusion

I’d recognize it anywhere.

The late queen was fond of her wedding porcelain, only bringing it out for special occasions. When I was a child, before our relationship soured, she’d use it during private lunches for the two of us. I once asked her what made it special, and she told me it was a gift, hand-painted by the person she loved most in the world.

For the past year, the king has been determined to erase every memory of her from these halls. Only small pieces of Leona have slipped past his notice—the last vestiges of his late wife.

Heat prickles behind my eyes as a lump forms in my throat. Guilt and shame war for dominance in my gut. I take a sip of water, forcing myself to choke down the unexpected emotion. Glancing at Baylor seated on my left, I find him staring at me, and I struggle not to flinch at the obvious lust in his gaze.

“It’s decided.” He shakes his head with determination. “My advisers can handle the preparations on their own. I want to spend the next few days holed up in my chambers with you.”

“No,” I say too quickly, still distracted by the stupid plate. His eyes sharpen, and I hurry to amend myself. “I wouldn’t want to be the reason your celebration doesn’t go as planned. It’s such an important night for the whole realm.”

Placing my hand on his, I let the emotion from before simmer in my eyes as I offer him a brave smile. I force all my best lies into the gesture.I am being vulnerable with you. I put your needs first. You can trust me.

I glance down as if this is difficult for me. As if these words are self-sacrificing and I am searching for the courage to speak them. “You deserve to enjoy it without having to worry about me.”

I give him a brave smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. He scrutinizes me for several moments before reaching out to cup my cheek, wiping a wayward tear with his thumb. As I gaze up at him with eyes full of love, something in my stomach burns, but I ignore it.

I feel nothing.

“Ah, my pet. You’re always so sweet.”

I send silent prayers to the Fates that his words are sincere as he returns his focus to the meal.

“Tell me, how was last night’s outing?” he asks, nibbling at a strawberry. My eyes track a drop of juice that drips down his chin. “Were you successful?”

For a brief moment, I panic, thinking he’s asking me about my time at Darrow’s shop before I recall the unpleasant task he assigned me prior to that.

“It’s done,” I assure him. “Lord Ando Varish admitted to speaking treasonous lies against the crown.” A falsehood he confessed to under extreme duress, and only to make the pain stop.

Last month, Lady Varish gave birth to the couple’s first child, a baby girl with round ears. A mortal. This was extremely concerning, given the fact that both Lord and Lady Varish are high fae. Ando loudly proclaimed this was the result of Baylor’s reign. Yet another punishment from the Fates for the Goddess’s absence. He’s not the first to make such a claim.

It started slowly. A few bad harvests, intense storms, lower birth rates. But in recent years, the crops have barely sustained us. Baylor has been attempting to make trade agreements with the other Isles, hoping to buy time. Building these alliances is part of why his anniversary ball is so important. Time is running out for him to find a solution.

The storms have become more violent too. Six months ago, a thirty-foot wave crashed into a village in the north, decimating their community. All over the Isle, sunny days now turn into hurricanes at only a moment’s notice.

“Lord Varish admitted to cutting the child’s ears himself to make them appear round,” I tell him, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. “He wanted to destabilize your reign and gain power amongst your critics, but I executed Lord Varish, as you requested.”

Requestedis such a polite world. It implies choice, a kindness the king didn’t give me. When Baylor places his hand on the collar, the enchantment upon it is activated. Any direct order he gives me must be obeyed, or the collar will be triggered.

But Baylor has grown complacent with me. He isn’t careful with his word choice, leaving room for small acts of defiance. Like when I told Ando his pain would end if he admitted his claims were untrue, even if they weren’t. Offering him the only gift I had the power to grant, I promised him I would protect his wife and child, making sure they weren’t implicated in his treason.

“Lady Varish had no knowledge of the scheme,” I assure the king sincerely. “She and her child were victims of his insanity.”

Baylor nods thoughtfully. “Did he put up a fight?”

I shake my head.

“Then how do you explain this?” He gestures to my hand resting on the table, staring at my ruined nails, broken and jagged from digging into Darrow’s hardwood floors.

My heart stutters, but I force myself not to react to the slip up. I’ve talked my way out of worse.

“He struggled a bit,” I clarify, letting my gaze fall to my lap as if I’m embarrassed. “But it was nothing I couldn’t handle.”

He watches me silently for several moments as he weighs my words.

“You’ll spend extra time training with Remard this week,” he commands. “I won’t see your skills grow rusty.”

I nod, not wanting to fight him on this. Training is one of the few joys I have. “I’ll let Remy know.”

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