Page 80 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen
A glimmer of thirst, or perhaps lust, behind his gray eyes sparks a swell of unease in my gut, but it’s there one second and gone the next.
I swirl the wine in my cup. “I don’t want any trouble.”
“What about Seth? Is he here for the same reason as you?”
“You’d have to ask him.”
He licks his lips, pausing for a couple of breaths. “I’m asking you.”
“And I’m choosing not to speak for him.”
He shrugs, gulping down the rest of his wine and pouring himself a second glass. “If you refuse to cooperate, you’ll end up in a cell, too. Are you two married?”
I take a quick sip of wine. “No, not yet.”
He squints, the corner of his eyes upturned, as though he’s both surprised and thrilled to hear that. “But you love him?”
Percy’s wings flutter against my heart. I press my palm over his shape through the tunic, commanding him to stay put. In hostage situations, Faelings are liabilities, but as long as he remains hidden, he could break us out of here, should the need arise.
“Our engagement is purely political,” I finally answer.
“Shame,” he leans back in his chair. “Would’ve made seducing you more interesting if he loved you.” He studies me carefully. “Why do you want to sneak inside the capital?”
I take the seat next to him, unwilling to set us up as two opposing sides or show any kind of fear. “The crowns want Seth to serve as an envoy and negotiator between the seven crowns and the Tidecallers. They believe Luther Storm, the new Storm King, allowed the Tidecallers to set up base in Zepharion.”
I test the words, unsure how to phrase them to appease his suspicions without revealing I was sent to assassinate his new king.
Alaric’s gaze flies to the many old-fashioned portraits hung on the walls. “Luther is not the new Storm King.”
“No?”
“No. And I’ve heard on good authority that he’s pretty upset about it.”
I watch Alaric’s mouth as he speaks, the wry grin tugging at his lips making me nervous. “Do you mean to join them or kill them?”
“I’ve been in exile for decades…” I trail off, wondering how much to share.
“Yes, the great Queen of Hearts, traitor to the crowns, banished to the new world and living there as a mortal. I’ve read about it.”
“Then you can imagine I’d do anything the crowns asked if it meant earning back my freedom.”
“Even if it means marrying Freya’s son…” he trails off, misconstruing my words, probably thinking Freya is eager for me to wed Seth, to keep the power in the family.
I give him a quick nod. “Yes.”
He combs his long black hair back and gulps down the entire glass, his Adam’s apple bobbing with every lustful swallow, like the wine is meant to soothe some raw ache in his soul. “As long as you’re here, I’d love to pick your brain about something…”
His true feelings are veiled, but I can see he’s hurting. If I had my magic, I could search the depths of his sorrow and find out exactly what he’s grieving—find out what kind of man he is, and what kind of love he craves—but without it, I can only see what pierces the clouds.
“There’s thisgirl…” he says.
“Let me stop you right there. This girl—she loves someone else, doesn’t she?”
He leans forward, emphasizing the hunch and hides his face in his arms. “Yes.”
“Then I can’t help you.”
“And what if I kept you here until you became more...helpful?” he suggests with a raised brow and a schoolboy look, like he didn’t just threaten to keep me prisoner.
