The way Artus looked at her now, as if their very interaction were a joke to him because he considered her unworthy of his time underneath it all, reminded her much of the marquis. Sinclair was much more like his grandfather than Armand.
“He would have provided for you, kept you in France’s good graces and safe from those blasted creatures.”
“Those creatures you hunt and murder unprovoked?”
A silence hung in the air. Artus’s subtle smile deepened his wrinkles as her mother whipped her head at Lilac, glaring over pursed lips while her father disappeared into his cup of water. Apparently, her father’s support didn’t yet extend to the Daemons.
Lilac turned to the guard to the nearest guard. “Will you please fetch John?”
“At this hour?” Marguerite said from across the table.
She shot her mother a silencing glare.
Artus interjected with a clear of his throat, his smile widening at the mother-daughter back and forth. “Your Majesty, given the bloody history of Paimpont that I’m sure you’re aware of, I would not call the active management of these Daemons unprovoked. And yet you seem to care more for their wellbeing than the security of your kingdom, which simply required a marriage to Sinclair.”
Lilac resisted the urge to launch herself at Artus. She could strangle him. With her freakish strength, she couldliterallystrangle him, probably both his men and his guards. But Artus knew better. He, like the Le Tallecs,knew better. Knew she wouldn’t. From birth, Lilac had been placed on a pedestal, held to a different set of standards to begin with.
As the world watched the girl with the Daemon tongue, everyone else got away with murder.
“I can see some benefits of the marriage weren’t explained to you. What your parents might have failed to clarify is that marrying my grandson would have secured your distance with France, at least for severalmore years. Possibly generations, your entire reign, if you gave Sinclair a healthy son or two.”
Lilac did not miss Henri and Marguerite’s exchanged glances, but she remained intently focused on the old man in front of her.
“You see, my mother was born to a viscount during Charles’s reign, and Vivien’s paternal bloodline is of junior French aristocracy, long existing in favor of the kings with several generations of pristine peerage. Entering into a marriage contract with Sinclair would have protected Brittany because France would have been a natural ally, leaving them uninterested in annexation. Instead, you’ve antagonized your most powerful neighbor by not only turning Sinclair down but arresting him with a public announcement. Humiliating him. Not to mention the type of company you’ve been concerning yourself with.” He gave Piper and Herlinde a pointed once-over before returning to Lilac with a pitying grimace.
Marguerite gripped the tabletop, looking as if she were about to faint. Henri exhaled but said nothing.
“Your grandson deserves everything that has befallen him. You don’t seem as high caliber of a man yourself if my grandfather revoked your duties prematurely, leaving them to a seven-year-old boy. One who turned out to be no better.”
She wasn’t sure what the old man had been hoping for—if he honestly thought she would have plucked Sinclair from his cell and summoned a priest—but she wouldn’t have married him even if he had come with all the power and security in the world.
Artus’s condescending expression had shifted into a snarl. “Sinclair was your best chance at retaining your sovereignty.”
“I’d be careful with your implications if I were you,” Lilac warned. “You wouldn’t want it to appear so blatantly that Sinclair was France’s intentional way into Breton nobility and the crown, would you?”
Artus leaned forward in his seat. “And if it was? What would anyone do about it?”
She should have him thrown out. She could have him arrested for the threats he’d made.
Instead, Lilac turned to her guard and looked him in his bewildered eyes. “My scribe,please. And while you’re at it, please also request the company of our coachman, Giles. He’s outside in the bailey.”
He frowned. “The coachman? Why?”
“I won’t ask a third time.”
The fellow nodded without another word and left to fetch them both.
“I don’t owe you or anyone else an explanation of whom I spend my time with or why I’ll never marry your grandson. It is not your business, Artus, and you will not question me in my own castle.”
“Ah, but whatismy business are the goings-on in my fief. Such as the increase in Daemon activity west of Paimpont, in the region between my home and yours,” he suggested, eyeing Lilac. “Two men were recently snatched up and eaten.”
Artus wouldn’t dare mention her and Garin’s appearance at the Jaunty Hog, or her suggestion on where to hunt next; doing so would be admitting mistreatment and manhandling of the queen. She could bring it up herself and have him locked away with his grandson… But she also wasn’t eager to have them in the same dungeon together, where they might figure out a way to scheme.
“Korrigans or ogres?” she suggested, withholding a triumphant smirk. Mathias and Lorenzo shifted uncomfortably, wincing with their movement, glaring sidelong at Artus. “I’ve heard they are both especially feral this time of year.”
Artus’s eyes narrowed. “Is that what your cartographer told you?”
“I’m sorry.” Henri held a hand up. “What does Riou have to do with any of this? And this is your fief no longer, Artus. My father made sure of it.”
