Page 195 of The Incendiary

“Incapable,” he confirmed with a challenge in his eyes. “Hesitant to do what it takes to ensure the safety of her people.”

His claims were horseshit. There was no way they’d been gossiping about what kind of ruler I was when I was only now beginning to rule. Until today, many of them thought I was dead. He could call me soft and weak all he wanted. I knew the truth.

For the first time in weeks, I felt his fire. Maybe it was our fire. Something we built together, and it lived in me, alive even now.

“Shera,” I said mind-to-mind. “Just like we discussed.”

“On it.”

I narrowed my eyes on the duke and waited, and a few seconds later, plates, bowls, and glasses clashed together. Multiple screams erupted from around the table that Shera had leapt onto, only to brace her paws on Melonius’s chest. One curl of her claws and she would break through the thin cloth of his shirt and puncture his skin. One bite, and his throat would be ripped out.

“Perhaps I am, as you say… soft,” I repeated, then looked over at my umbra, “but she is not.” I smiled and cocked my head at the duke. “Are you understanding now?”

The color drained from the duke’s face, and his muscles locked in fear. Mavic watched with his jaw nearly on the floor. Finn looked a little nervous, but Gemma’s face was bright with a wide, maniacal smile. At least one other person was enjoying this as much as me.

“I understand, Your Highness,” Melonius said with a shudder.

“Good.” When I snapped my fingers, Shera released the duke and leapt off the table. “I keep my umbra well fed, but I don’t want to overfeed her, so please don’t give me a reason to. Bring the volumes to my room before noon tomorrow. After that, we’ll make our departure.”

Melonius gulped embarrassingly loudly. “They’ll be brought to you immediately.”

“Thank you, Melonius.”

As the duke regained his composure, I caught Ezra with his hand over his mouth, concealing a laugh. For the first time in months, he was smiling at me. It was small, a little unsure, but it made my heart swell in my chest.

While Elias stared, I ignored him and took a bite of my dessert.

After dinner, Melonius told us that a few Peradine residents wished to make pleas to come live in the Caves. I didn’t want to spend one more second in the duke’s presence, but I also wasn’t going to turn away innocent people.

“They should all be able to come to the Caves if they want,” I told Elias, who sat beside me with a glass of wine. Gemma had moved to sit on my other side. “We can make room, can’t we?”

“It’s possible,” he muttered absent-mindedly, his attention focused on the line of people filtering in, waiting to speak with us. The first woman admitted that she feared her children weren’t safe in Peradine. The second person, an elderly man, said his wife had died and his only living relatives were in the Caves. Elias didn’t have much to say, so I decided to welcome both.

When we reached the third person, he tensed beside me. The approaching tall young man had thick dark hair with a sharp jaw, green eyes, and freckles over the bridge of his strong nose.

“What’s your name?” I asked him. He looked to be just a few years younger than me.

Elias took a heavy swig of his third or fourth glass of wine since dinner. He’d begun to toss it back like it was water. Gods, how much was he planning on drinking?

“Ben,” the young man answered.

“Ben… ?” I smiled gently and waited.

His brown eyes darted nervously to Elias, then back to me. “Just Ben, Your Highness.”

Elias’s chair scraped on wood as he abruptly fled the room. After offering a quick bow, Ben placed a folded letter on the table before me and stalked off in the opposite direction.

I watched him go, then looked down at the folded letter, where his first and surname were scribbled.

Ben Wynterton.

“Odd.” I nudged Gemma, who leaned in. “It’s Elias’s surname, but it’s spelled wrong. Are they related?”

She cringed at the paper in my hands. “It’s misspelled on purpose. Elias’s father, he…” Her amber eyes, sad but compassionate, followed the direction he’d gone. “Maybe I should tell you later.”

“No,” I objected. “Tell me now, please. Why is his surname misspelled like that?”

Gemma peeked nervously around the room before turning toward the wall where no one could read her lips. “Because misspelling a surname is how you mark a bastard.”