Page 159 of A War of Crowns

“I am,” he agreed readily enough. His pulse still raced as he lingered like a man standing atop a precipice, in danger of toppling off and shattering himself against the rocks lurking in the dark ravine below at any moment. “But perhaps you will finally be the woman to change all that…dear wife.”

Chapter forty-two

Tiberius

Twitching his cloak closed against the unnatural chill of the day, Tiberius sucked in his cheeks and bit the inside of them as he veered to the right along the gravel path threading through the palace grounds.

He made for the dark shadows of the King’s Forest, his steps brisk, his curiosity piqued. The strange note his valet had delivered but an hour ago had named that looming treeline as the place to which he should journey for a clandestine meeting with an unnamed party.

The note had been unsealed. Unsigned.

Good sense would have dictated he ignore such intrigue completely. He should have gone on about his day and not given it a second thought.

Butgood sensewas in short supply within the Elmorian court at present. Every courtier seemed unable to speak of anything at all other than the upcoming royal wedding, which was to occur in one week’s time.

A rushed affair. A suspiciously abrupt turn of events.

But it was all anyone cared about, when they should have been more worried about the fact that an Arathian horde was raiding along the coast just south of them in Arlund.

Tiberius would rather discuss the war at this point. He was sick of hearing about the wedding.

Even more so, he was tired of pretending it didn’t bother him in the slightest. For the better part of a year, he had endured Seraphina de la Croix claiming she did not wish to marry and did not need a husband.

And now, she was to be married. To that little monster, of all people.

Oh, Tiberius was sure there was some catch, some hitch, someplan. His queen always had some manner of plan. But whatever it was, he wasn’t privy to it.

Now she had forgiven him, he was still invited along to the library from time to time for games of Sovereign. But he was so far outside her inner circle at this point, he simply made do with what little existence he could carve out for himself at her side as the Distraction while he waited for her to finish with her own wedding plans.

Maybe then, she could be bothered to find him abride at last.

But the rumors that he was back in her good graces were doing wonders for his trade deals with the city-states, at the very least.

His long legs made short work of his walk through the palace grounds, and before too long, the crunch of the gravel underfoot faded into the dull thud of his boots striking against the forest floor.

Once beneath the trees, it didn’t take Tiberius too long to locate his mysterious correspondent. Bennett Threston stood out against the greenery in his all-black ensemble.

“Bennett,” Tiberius dryly greeted his fellow noble with a crinkle of his nose and a glance flashed about the forest. It looked as if they were quite alone. “Couldn’t you have chosen some placewarmer?”

But the Duke of Coreto’s second-born son wasn’t in the mood for jests, it seemed. The other man didn’t so much as attempt to shift his visage into something less dour when he delivered up a flat, “No.”

Tiberius could only roll his eyes at that. “Very well. Get on with it, then,” he invited, rubbing his gloved hands together. Even through the layers of fine leather and fur, the wind drove itself straight into his bones. “What’s this all about, then?”

Lord Bennett shot a quick glance through the trees, back toward the palace. With his gaze averted, he revealed, “My father wishes to invite you to Coreto.”

Tiberius arched an eyebrow and waited for Lord Bennett to get around to delivering the rest of the message.

When no other words were forthcoming, though, he scoffed and turned back toward the palace. He didn’t have time for such nonsense.

An invitation like that could have easily been delivered to his valet.

Tiberius’s steps hitched to a pause when his fellow nobleman seized his shoulder and held him in place.

“I don’t think you heard me, Crestley,” Lord Bennett insisted, his voice still cast low, his tone firm. “Myfatheris invitingyoutoCoreto.”

“Oh, I heard you the first time,” Tiberius reassured the other man while shaking him off. “I just do notcare.” Beneath the drape of his cloak, he folded his arms across his chest and declared, “Good luck with whatever it is you are planning, but I want no part of it. Good day to you.”

Behind him, Lord Bennett huffed out a mirthless laugh. “That’s it, then? Running back to your queen? More card games to play, no doubt?” When Tiberius didn’t bother answering, the other man further declared, “You should behonoredmy father would even deign to notice you in the first place, Crestley.”

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