Chapter 7

Rhys went up the stairs past him without a word, and the cellar door closed, and I was alone with the King of Vaelmoor.

He came down the last few steps slowly, the way he had come down them at three in the morning with his lantern: carefully placed, trying not to frighten anything. He had changed his coat. This one was black, plain, with no crest on it at all. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, a few feet from me, and didn’t come any closer.

I stood up. Then I did what eight years had taught me to do in the presence of anyone who could have me flogged. I lowered my eyes and bent my knee to the stone.

“Majesty.”

“Don’t.” It came out rough. “Elowen. Please don’t do that.”

“I told you that you combed your beard with oil.” My face was burning. My voice wasn’t steady. “I told you about the mermaid.”

“You did.” Something moved at the corner of his mouth and was put away again. “I’ve been wondering all afternoon where I’d find a bathtub big enough.”