In the wee hours of dawn, Niam dressed and crept from Rufe’s room. Casseign waited in the hallway, merely nodding, saying nothing. Casseign, who’d likely worked an extra-long shift to ensure only he witnessed Niam leaving this room at such a time.
Niam must be more careful in the future, lest anyone find out. As he strode to his room, though, he couldn’t help but smile. For the first time in recent memory, he’d taken someone to bed he’d truly wanted.
And damned the consequences.
Chapter Nine
Niam sat in his office with a half-dozen nobles, their excessive droning taking a toll on his attention. Lord Whreyn smirked Niam’s way now and then. What did that self-righteous asshole have planned? The bogus pretense of needing to travel all the way to Niam’s country estate for the king’s expertise in a land matter didn’t fool anyone. Whreyn listened to no one’s counsel save his own.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Whreyn said abruptly, “I find myself in need of the privy.”
Oh, no. The nosy bastard wasn’t gaining free rein in Niam’s keep, especially not with such controversial guests in residence. “I’ll have one of my guards escort you.”
Whreyn waved a dismissive hand. “No need. I can find my way.”
He also wasn’t above attempting to bribe guards. Niam excused himself the moment Whreyn left. Casseign and another guard waited outside the door. “Keep the others inside this room.”
“What about Lord Whreyn?” Casseign must not trust the man either, but wouldn’t leave his post without Niam’s instruction. “And I won’t let you go unescorted.”
Good man. Niam nodded, and Casseign fell into step behind him. Niam followed his hunch and trotted up the stairs. He must be quick if he intended to stop Whreyn. But surely the guards on the family’s floor wouldn’t allow him to pass.
“I merely wish to see the queen mother,” Whreyn simpered to the guard who stood firmly in his way.
Before Niam could shout a warning to the guard, Whreyn thrust the man aside and opened the door. His voice turned sugary sweet. “Ah, I’m very sorry, my dear Nera. I must’ve taken a wrong turn.”
How dare this bastard refer to Mother with such familiarity! Niam dashed to the door and peered inside from behind Whreyn. He’d have words for all of his guards later.
“And a wrong flight of stairs.” Mother's voice lowered to nearly a growl as she rose to her feet. She clenched one fist as though holding one of her daggers. “Lord Whreyn, I’m sure my son is looking for you, and he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
“I apologize, Your Majesty.” Though the words sounded sincere, the man showed no signs of leaving. His smug tones had to mean he’d spotted Yarif. Niam hovered a few steps behind Whreyn. No stopping the man now, but he could discover the bastard’s intent. He peered around Whreyn into the room, motioning the two guards back. Mother reached one graceful hand into her pocket, where Niam knew she hid a dagger.
If only Niam’s knife skills equaled his mother’s.
Mother shifted between Lord Whreyn and Yarif, blocking the view. “I won’t keep you,” she said with too much sweetnessof her own.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your companion?” Whreyn persisted like the tenacious bit of slime that he was. “Where are your manners?”
Mother dropped the bluster, snapping, “Keeping yours company, I expect, somewhere far from here.” If Whreyn weren’t so arrogant, he’d recognize his cue to run.
Unperturbed or too unobservant to notice her near growl, Lord Whreyn persisted in snooping. “I see a resemblance. One of your nephews, perhaps?”
Mother's voice rose an octave. “If you really must know, this injured young man was brought to me for healing. Now, be gone with you, or I’ll call the guards. You’re disturbing my patient!”
“Interesting. I haven’t seen many guards on this floor of the keep. Why is that?”
Niam’s patience reached an end. He stepped forward, hand on the dagger he kept in his waistband. Casseign and the other guards flanked him. “Their king has them busy elsewhere, where you’re supposed to be. Rest assured, they’re close enough to summon if needed.” Niam stepped around Lord Whreyn into the room.
Whreyn paled. He wasn’t completely devoid of common sense, after all. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I simply lost my way.”
Niam fought the urge to punch the man—an urge he’d had many times before. “You certainly have. Now, would you like to finish our negotiations, or would you rather continue invading the privacy of my home?”
Whreyn plastered on a practiced court smile. “Good day, Your Majesty,” he said, addressing Mother. He peeked around her. “And you too, good sir.” His smile turned gloating.
Niam stepped around, herding the pompous lord from the room. “Casseign? Please escort our guest back to my office.” He’d rather the man be escorted to the nearest sinkhole.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Casseign didn’t grasp Whreyn by the nape, but Niam believed he’d do so with little provocation.
Niam followed the annoying and nosy noble.
