Page 44 of The Cursed Crown

"I should introduce my company."

"Oh, please don't," Sura retorted with a snort. "Let us pretend I have no idea whose illustrious company I'm in. Respectfully, I have enough problems on my plate." Her smile never left as she spun to face Rissa. "We'll meet again officially, under other circumstances. We'll chat then. For now, I have fires to put out, houses to rebuild, and many mouths to feed."

Rissa didn't know what to say. This great queen had identified her somehow, and though she wasn't exactly falling at her feet, she was recognizing her authority. "I'll help, if I can," she offered. "I'm not terrible with water charms."

Sura hesitated for a short moment, before laughing. "Well, I can't see why not. Let's get your horses settled, and we can get back to work."

* * *

She hadn't misrepresentedthe extent of her abilities; Rissa's link to water was rather weak. Her natural affinity was earth, and air and fire came to her easily enough. Wielding water magic was the fruit of long years of study. It looked like the rest of the inhabitants of Deanon could relate. Though there were several gentry, few even bothered with magic, preferring to carry buckets full of water.

Rissa assisted by lifting the moisture up in the air and letting it rain down on the burning buildings, speeding the process up, house after house. By the tenth, her head was ready to explode—the focus level necessary to perform magic that wasn't instinctual to her was enough to make her head spin. She kept going until the last of the fire was extinguished.

For his part, Khal made his muscles his contribution, letting Queen Sura boss him around without a word of protest. He lifted great wooden beams to support the weaker buildings, moved stones, and dragged corpses till sweat beaded on his temples.

Teoran aided the builders shirtless, to the delight of the onlookers. He certainly was pleasant enough to look at, his slender, tanned frame sculpted like the statue of a god.

Rissa was quite put out to find that he made no impression on her. She could objectively appreciate his beauty—the red hair, the piercing moss green eyes, and all that golden skin—but none of it set her core on fire the way the mere thought of a certain annoying king could.

Rydekar be damned. If he messed with her libido, she'd have to murder him out of spite.

"I think we've done what we can for the night!" Sura called. "Dinner will be served at the keep."

The crowd erupted in whistles and claps, only too glad to comply. Rissa followed the flow back to the entrance of Sura's palace. A banquet had been set around three lambs roasting on spits. An imp stirred a cauldron of thick herbal stew, while pixies flew around with trays of freshly baked bread. Rissa's stomach growled with need.

She stood in line to get to the meat, wondering if she might collapse before her turn came.

The cook in charge of turning the lamb handedQueen Sura a wicked footlong knife that could certainly serve as a sword in a pinch, and the queen cut the first piece as her court clapped eagerly. She served the generous piece of haunch in a ceramic bowl painted red at the edges. The stew was served over the meat.

Rissa licked her lips. Was she drooling?

The queen looked around the crowd, frowning. Then she spotted her, and waved her forward. Feeling awkward under the scrutiny, Rissa joined her at the center of the square.

To her astonishment, Sura handed her that first bowl.

"Well?" the Bone Queen prompted. "How does Your Highness like the fare of Deanon?"

Rissa stood helplessly for a beat too long, before lifting the bowl to her lips. She breathed the scent in before dipping her lip in the burning stew.

She closed her eyes, moaning. "It's delicious." She couldn't remember ever tasting anything quite as delightful. Rissa's appetite was directly linked to the amount of energy she used, and after hours of water work, she could have devoured an elephant. She dug in, enthused by the claps around her. She ate every single drop, using her hands to pick at the meat, and they watched until she was entirely done.

When she'd licked the last drop, Queen Sura whistled, and returned to the roast to serve herself, signaling the start of the feast. The rest of the crowd waited in line for their turn.

Hadn't Sura said she couldn't deal with announcing to her court Rissa was visiting? Yet she'd done just that, by delegating the honor of opening the banquet, for this was the duty of the person holding the highest rank. She might as well have had a page scream her name out loud.

Still uncomfortable, Rissa opted to stand apart, close to the entrance of the palace. She sat on the statue of a lion, using the feline's lean body as a back rest.

"That was foolish."

Rissa wrinkled her nose. "How do you move so silently?"

She hadn't heard or sensed Khal's approach, but he was leaning on the other side of the statue now.

"Practice. I shadow Rye all the time. Don't change the subject. You should never eat first—not unless you trust the one serving you."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not Rye. No one wants to murder me."

Khal snorted. "You're Serissa Braer. The list of people who want nothing more than to murder you is probably long enough to fill an entire book."

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