As the conversation ended, the queen permitted Kestrel her leave so that she could rest after her long journey up from Vallonde. No one else dared move though, as if they could all sense the queen wasn’t yet done with any of them. Even from where Elora stood, a short distance behind Queen Signe’s throne and therefore not within view of the subtle shift in her expression, Elora knew the queen was saving the worst of it for her.
With her hands still clasped together, Elora waited for Kestrel to leave. Her gaze pinned to the back of the princess’ head of untamed braids the entire time. Another Caeloran, at least by blood if she was the daughter of King Everard and the Corrupt Queen. Which meant she was just another person who likely viewed Elora’s people as less than human, worthy of punishment and pain for a crime they didn’t even commit.
Good riddance, she thought as the door closed behind the other princess.
And in that moment, Elora vowed to do everything in her power to stay far away from the girl. From any Caeloran, really.
“Wonderful for you to finally join us,” the queen said into the cavernous hall. “We were waiting for you.”
Knowing her place and what was expected of her, Elora bowed her head. “My apologies, my queen. I was feeling…ill.” It sounded like a lie even to her own ears, and though Elora couldn’t see the queen’s face, and Efrem remained stoic as ever, she could tell from Micah’s and Leighton’s expressions that they didn’t believe her either. When no one immediately responded, Elora ventured cautiously, “Did you pass his sentence then?”
Another long silence.
“No,” the queen said. “I decided to leave that to you. That is, if you’re still up for the responsibilities of being a queen?”
A test.
A threat.
“Of course, Queen Signe. It won’t happen again.”
The queen nodded. Then she looked to Micah. “Find your brother, Barnabus. Tell him he has been tasked with educating our new guest on the history of Grimtol. But make sure he understands that part of his role is to illuminate this poor, naïve girl of the horrors that her mother and that traitorous knight caused all of the kingdoms. They are not the heroes in her story, no matter what that deserter has led her to believe.”
“I’ll tell him,” Micah said with a shrug, and he was already making his way to the door, seemingly grateful to leave the throne room. Elora couldn’t blame him.
But Leighton put a hand on Micah’s chest, stopping him mid-step. “No, I’ll do it.”
Elora heard steam billow from Queen Signe’s nostrils. “I did not ask you to do it. I asked your brother. Your role is to remain here. Having dinner with your betrothed.”
“And I will return to fulfill my duties. However, we can’t leave this up to Micah?—”
“Hey!” Micah blurted, looking wounded.
“No offense.”
“Allthe offense,” countered Micah, swatting Leighton’s hand away before folding his arms over his chest. “I can relay a simple task to our brother, just as well as you can, Leigh.”
The nickname seemed to be an attempt to undermine him, to shift the power in the room. But Leighton was unfazed by it.
“Really?” The elder prince angled a brow at his brother in a condescending way that only a future king could. “You and Barnabus don’t exactly get along. What happened the last time you told him to do something? Do you remember?”
Micah’s shoulders slouched a bit, conceding already. But Leighton wasn’t done yet. If there was a point to be made, he was going to make it.
“Go on. Tell us, brother. What was it you asked Barnabus to do?”
Micah’s voice was low and grumbly, like a child being made to pick up a mess he didn’t want to. “I asked him not to bring his books to the dining hall so that we could actually see his face and talk to him occasionally.”
“And what did he do instead?”
With a roll of his eyes, Micah answered, “He stacked a wall of books at one end of the table and then sat behind it. He refused to talk the entire meal.”
Gesturing to his brother as if to saysee, I’m right, Leighton addressed the queen. “If we let Micah deliver this task to Barnabus, he’ll almost certainly do the exact opposite, just to spite him.”
“Then tell him the order is coming from the queen—” Queen Signe growled, each word coming out tight and hot.
But if either prince sensed danger in the air, they didn’t show it. Instead, they winced at her suggestion, a look that seemed to mock her plan and call her a fool. It wasn’t like the queen to be swayed, especially not by such a brazen show of disrespect.
But even Elora knew based on what little interactions she’d had with Barnabus that Leighton was right; he trusted no one. More than that, he was controlled by no one. And not out of malice or petulance in the way that some princes were. He simply did what he wanted because it was what made sense to him. He did, however, seem to have a modicum of respect for Leighton, which everyone, including the queen apparently, understood.
