“Your eyes, princess, focus on me,” he urged.

I focused on him. Then I asked, “But my Father –”

He got closer and his fingers gave me a slight squeeze before he reminded me softly, giving me the knowledge that he held information I was surprised he had, “Finnie, your father isn’t your father. Any child you put on the throne will not be his blood. I’m sorry, your grace, but in this land and every other, you have one ally and that is The Drakkar.”

I blinked at him as my heart twisted. It did this in a quick wrench that hurt so badly, it was a wonder I didn’t pass out.

“Bolt the door, a man you can trust will be here shortly,” he muttered, I nodded then he gave my arms another squeeze and he took off.

After he left, I went directly to the door, locked it and threw all three bolts home.

Then I turned my back to it, covered my mouth with my hand and stared at my beautiful room.

Then I sucked in a deep breath, pushed away, walked to the bed where Penelope had lifted her head at the commotion and was yawning huge. I scooped her up, she protested, I shushed her and held her tight as I waited for the return of The Drakkar.

Chapter Nineteen

Lack of Vigilance

“By the gods,” Frey Drakkar heard muttered in horror behind him, he turned from the broken, bleeding woman at his feet and saw King Atticus and Queen Aurora had entered the room.

Atticus was the one who muttered and he, indeed, looked horrified as his eyes stayed glued to the woman on the floor. Aurora looked pale but her eyes, also on the woman bleeding and curled into herself, were shielded.

“Your daughter has a traitor on her staff,” Drakkar growled, his gut tight, his neck tight, bile in his throat at the thought he’d actually had his c**k in the bitch who’d schemed to murder his Finnie, delivering the poison her gods damned self. “She’s confessed. A physician should attend her once my men have transferred her to jail.”

Both Atticus and Aurora’s eyes shot to him and Drakkar forced himself from his thoughts in order to remain focused and take in every infinitesimal nuance of both king and queen.

“This maid poisoned Finnie?” Atticus whispered, still horrified and that was all Drakkar read on the king’s face.

He read something else on Aurora’s. A flash of anger mixed with more than a little bit of accusation.

An interesting reaction and an uncomfortable one.

Drakkar lifted his chin to Oleg who moved to Viola, hefting her over his shoulder with complete immunity to her whimpers and cries as he carried her out, exactly as he’d been immune to the same as he’d extracted her confession.

Drakkar’s eyes slid through his cousin who was standing against the wall, arms crossed on her chest, eyes, revoltingly excited.

She’d enjoyed watching Oleg obtain information from Viola.

A mistake. He’d thought it would bring forth fear.

But she was a Drakkar. He should have known better.

He looked to Aurora and stated, “Yes. Viola accepted payment to prepare and deliver a poisoned glass to Finnie.” Atticus and Aurora stared at him and he continued, “She’s also given us another name to add to Berg Enger’s. Hernod Grieg, they’re associates.”

He continued to regard the king and queen closely. Atticus already knew that Berg Enger was the Lunwynian who had paid for the assassination attempt that had failed in Houllebec. Enger had been found by Drakkar’s man Quincy and had not, yet, provided them with further information and, considering their tactics, it was highly likely he didn’t know much more than he’d already told them.

What they knew was that Enger was a malcontent, this starting at his displeasure of losing some land as penance from his liege lord for a string of petty crimes. This was appealed to the king and the king held his liege lord’s ruling. Because of this, Enger had no love for the crown but he also had no money.

What he did have was an association with a network of men who considered they had been wronged by Atticus in some way.

What they did not know was who was financing Enger. Until now.

Hernod Grieg was a merchant who traded out of Sudvic, as Drakkar did. Drakkar knew of him, had met him and didn’t like him. Grieg didn’t consider himself wronged by the crown in so much as he disliked paying taxes to it for he preferred his coin in his coffers.

Why he would participate in a treasonous plot, Drakkar did not know. But both Quincy and Balthazar were already riding to Sudvic to find out.

With Viola out of the room, Atticus pulled himself together and not for the first time Drakkar thought this was one characteristic every king should have that Atticus of the House of Wilde did not.

He didn’t have the stomach for the dirty work of politics.

It was a weakness.

“I’ve heard of this Grieg,” Atticus stated.

“And what do you know?” Drakkar asked.

“Not much,” Atticus shook his head. “He’s a merchant in Sudvic. He attended the Solar Hunt last year, invited by a member of a House but he did not go to the Gales. I met him very briefly. I can’t even say for certain I recall what he looked like,” Atticus answered.

“Which House?” Drakkar pushed.

Atticus shook his head again. “That, as well, I can’t recall.

Drakkar studied his king then he whispered, “Try.”

Atticus held his eyes then replied, “Ravenscroft or Lazarus, maybe Sinclair or Njord but saying any at this juncture is slander for, indeed, Drakkar, this meeting was insignificant and I truly cannot recall.”

Drakkar’s eyes went to Annar who was standing, hands on hips, in the corner. “Get to Ravenscroft, Lazarus, Njord and Sinclair. They’re all here. I’ll need to speak to them before I go.”

Annar lifted a chin and left the room.

Drakkar looked to Aurora.

“And you?” he queried.

“I’ve never heard of him before,” she replied instantly, her eyes blank but active, though not, Drakkar sensed, from an attempt to hide something.

Drakkar turned his head to Franka. “And you?”

She lifted a fluttering hand to her wide, garish expanse of cle**age. “Me?” she drawled.

Drakkar turned his whole body to face his cousin.

Then he said softly, “I know you fancy yourself a cat who isn’t content unless she’s got herself a mouse to play with but do not mistake me for a mouse, Franka. A mouse cannot yank a cat’s throat out with his fist.”

He knew she knew his threat was not idle when she lost some color in her face.