Page 55 of To Save a Kingdom

Elessan’s fingers tightened in the man’s shirt until the collar pulled so tight it cut into Macherall’s neck. “Why?”

The noble chortled, chunks of spittle landing on Elessan’s arm. He held back a grimace.

“Queen Aliya.” The councilor managed to keep most of the derision from his tone, but not all of it. “She told the king to piss off, that she wasn’t going to marry him.”

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Elessan flared his nostrils. Aliya had said no such thing. Shadow had. And while Aliya had given Shadow permission to impersonate her, he doubted she’d intended her aunt to make decisions that would shred the alliance she’d worked so hard to build. A fact Shadow no-doubt knew and understood.

So, what happened?

A few stitches in Lord Macherall’s tunic snapped with the force Elessan was exerting on them. Grabbing the man’s throat with his free hand, he untangled his other from the other’s clothing. His nails dug deep, putting pressure on the major artery on both sides of the human’s neck. “Tell me what they said. I want it word for word.”

Macherall twisted his head side-to-side, though whether that was in denial or an attempt to break Elessan’s grip, he had no idea. Nor did he care.

He slammed the noble’s head into the stones behind him one more time. “I’m waiting.”

“I wasn’t there,” Macherall gasped, his weak-ass fingers prying uselessly at Elessan’s hand curled around his throat. “I don’t know.”

Elessan growled deep in his chest, baring his fangs. He was getting tired of wasting time with this mortal. “Then who did you hear it from?” He knocked the man into the wall again.

“The guard outside her door,” the lord stammered. “I pay him to keep me informed.”

Clenching his jaw until his tendons snapped, Elessan bit back another growl. Aliya definitely needed new sentries. “The guard’s name?”

The noble’s skin was becoming an interesting shade of purplish mauve. Elessan squeezed harder.

“Lataren. Lataren Ridley.”

Elessan filed the traitorous man’s name away for the future. It was not the most immediate problem at the moment, but one that required prompt attention.

Chapter 22

Aliya

The sun had dropped one finger-width in the sky by the time Aliya reached the middle of the courtyard, Elessan and Zadé at her back. Where Jalius had disappeared to, Aliya had no idea, but right then, she didn’t care.

In front of her, King Roland Enorathil and Princess Tsara stood, backed by the full might of the royal’s inner circle. Or, at least those who would fit. Most of his company remained outside the city walls. So while the scent of burning meat, fat, and other things polluted the air, at least she didn’t have to put up with the stench of latrines and unwashed bodies.

The setting sun bounced off the stone beneath her feet, as she fought the urge to squint. Doing so would only make her appear weak.

Making sure none of the trepidation sending trembling waves through her muscles showed on her face, Aliya braced both hands on her hips. “What is the meaning of this?” She nodded to the bonfire in the middle of the open space, the burnt remnants of food and other supplies that would’ve seen her subjects through the winter. “I didn’t realize your people so easily dismissed treaties they negotiated and signed less than a week ago.” She met Roland’s eyes, willing her magic to drill holes through his thick skull. “Does your word and bond mean so little?”

Roland’s lips peeled back, exposing his fangs. “Alliances are only worthwhile if they will better my realm. The instant the elven people—” He meant sun elves, of course. Aliya was under no impression Roland cared one bit about the moon or mountain elves— “cease to benefit from any partnership, it’s pointless.”

“Oh?” Crossing her arms, she leaned into one hip. “And what advantage would your people seek from an alliance with my kingdom that’s now out of your reach?” She dropped her voice so it wouldn’t carry to his forces. “Or is it merely your wounded pride that has you walking away?”

Roland’s face turned red.

A heavy weight settled on her shoulder. Elessan’s hand, squeezing in warning.

Yes, she was pushing the monarch, likely more than was wise, but sometimes the only way to get people to say what they actually meant was to make them angry. It worked well enough with her father.

Tsara stepped forward, also keeping her words quiet. “Perhaps we should retire to somewhere less… public… where we can discuss such things without so many prying ears?”

That would give the king time to cool down, which wasn’t ideal. But the princess’ suggestion was smart for other reasons. “The Great Hall, then?” Aliya would just have to rile him up again when they were behind closed doors.

Five minutes later, the doors to the chamber slammed behind them.

Fighting the urge to whirl around and confront Roland then and there, Aliya took her time and strolled to her seat at the head of the table, leaving the others to sort themselves out.