Page 75 of Of Song and Scepter
“And nobody has been in here except for you?” Hugo stands, picking through the obvious pile of silk on my desk.
“Don’t touch that,” I snap.
Enna was here. What would the Abyssal shadow-guard want with that magical heirloom?
Hugo stiffens, removing his hands from her dress.
I clear my throat. “Apologies,” I say, softening my tone. “No one else was here.”
“Understood, Your Highness.”
I cross the room, stepping out onto the balcony. A waft of roses drift to me on the breeze, and I reach out to touch the twisting tendrils. A broken twig lies among the blooms, the wound fresh and green. I snap it from the vine, twirling it between my fingers with a frown.
A black cloud of dizziness creeps across my vision, and I stagger against the wall. Enna isdifferentfrom the power-hungry females I’ve courted. Right?
She wouldn’t lure me in on a false premise, only to steal from my bedchamber.
She wouldn’t.
“We’re late for the council meeting, Your Highness. I’ll have your room searched later.” He holds out the empty velvet pouch, where the necklace should be. “I assume you want to keep this quiet?”
I nod, and he tucks the pouch into his sleeve.
The hallways echo with Enna’s absence at every turn as I storm toward the council room. My stomach grumbles, my muscles ache. I lick my lips, and her taste is still there.
Before me, guards scramble to open the doors to the council room in time for me to pass through them. The council members are already in their seats. Each one of them looks tired. Lord Almar is already nodding off. Lord Ruven’s eyes are tight. My mother sits at the head of the table, her face shallow with exhaustion.
I eye my empty chair, debating the consequences of standing for this meeting.
My mother lifts her hand. “Sit.”
I cross my arms, leaning onto the backrest. “Tell me what’s chewing your fins, council. I’m late for breakfast.”
The council shifts, their eyes darting to one another. Lady Myrrh clears her throat, a quiet, pitiful cough. “This council is once again concerned—”
Lord Varik barks a laugh. “Oh, let’s just get into it. That princess is a fraud.”
Lord Ruven grumbles, the minister of foreign affairs leaning back in his chair. He runs a hand over his stiff, gray beard. “Here we go.”
Lord Varik glares broadly at the room. “I’ve never met a princess who cannot dance.”
Lady Myrrh twirls a curl of her hair, pulling at the ends. “Disgraceful, certainly!” she huffs. “But nothing a few lessons couldn’t fix. Perhaps she just didn’t know the steps.”
“The housekeeper said the princess’s handmaid can dance, and better than her. Something isn’t right here. I smell a trap.”
I don’t like it, the mention of Enna on his sneering lips. I inhale, steadying my nerves.
“You shouldn’t have danced with her.”
“You had no problem handing her off to me last night.” Lord Varik narrows his eyes. “I did what I must, for the good of the kingdom. We cannot blindly give the seat of power to a dark-dweller without a thorough investigation. The past shows they are conniving and wicked; they’ll do anything to avenge their history. Our investigation prior to the matter wound up as a snack for a dredgebeast, so I’ve taken up the task personally.”
Lord Ruven’s fist meets the tabletop with a dull thud. “We’re so close to the wedding. Our prince doesn’t need encouragement to drop his betrothed now! We’ll hire a music tutor. No big deal.”
My mother massages her temple, closing her eyes. “It’s not just the dancing, Lord Ruven. I have my doubts. It’s also the weakness of her Voice and the extreme reliance on her magic-wielding handmaid.” Her eyes flash open. “It’s possible I made a mistake.”
“Oh, Your Majesty, how could you have known one way or the other?” Lady Myrrh gushes, eager to please.
Lord Varik sneers. “Odd, isn’t it, that she has a Voiced handmaid to begin with. What does the princess need such high security for?”
