Perhaps I could give her a few assignments, allow her into the inner circle. Watch her, then give her a test and see how she performed.
My mind refused to settle, racing through battle plans and rescue operations and the hundred ways this could all fall apart. But beneath the tactical thinking, a few truths burned bright.
I would protect Isi. I would free the prisoners. I would stop Cyril’s war before it consumed both our kingdoms.
And if anyone in my court stood in the way of that, family or not, I’d remove them.
A king who couldn’t trust his own advisors was a king on dangerous ground, but Isi’s life mattered more than my comfort. More than tradition or loyalty or anything else.
I stood, stretching, and extinguished the wards, stepping out into the corridor beyond.
It was time to find my future queen and discover what secrets the library had revealed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
TREW
The kitchen sprawled across the back of the first floor, all stone ovens and hanging herbs and the lingering scent of the evening’s meal. Most of the staff had retired for the night, but I knew at least one person would still be there.
Sure enough, I found Betina standing at the main preparation table, her face creased as she kneaded dough. Her gray hair had been pulled back in a practical bun, and flour dusted her apron.
She looked up as I entered, her eyes widening with surprise before crinkling with warmth.
“Your Majesty.” She curtsied. “I heard you’d returned, but I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”
I moved closer to the counter, watching her return to her work. “I couldn’t come home and not stop in to visit with the best chef in the realm.”
“Go on with you.” Color filled her face. “It’s lovely to see you too, Trewyn.”
She’d called me by my first name from the time I was three and slipped away from my nanny and made my way to the kitchen for atreat. I was happy she still used the name when no one else was around.
“What can I do for you this evening?” she asked. “Looking for a treat?” She tilted her head toward a platter heaped with tiny cakes, each ornately decorated with frosting shaped to look like flowers.
“You know I won’t leave without eating at least three.” I popped one into my mouth and groaned at the amazing flavor. “Make that five,” I said with a smirk. “Though actually, I came here to put together a tray for my evening meal with…”
“Your young lady, Princess Amarissa.”
News traveled fast.
I leaned against the counter, adopting my most charming smile. “She’s important.”
“That she is.”
If Betina could see it, so would most of my kingdom, and I wasn’t sure what I thought about that. I didn’t like putting her in more danger.
Smiling, Betina reached out with a flour-dusted hand and swiped a smudge across my cheek. “I remember a three-year-old prince who thought he was a master of stealth. You’d hide under that very table with a stolen burrberry tart, convinced that if you squeezed your eyes shut, the crumbs on your chin would be invisible to the rest of the world.”
I shifted against the wooden counter, the radiant heat from the stone ovens seeping into my spine. For a brief, blissful moment, the weight of the coming war and the suspicion of my council felt cleks away, replaced by the scent of yeast and dried herbs. “I wasn’t hiding from you, Betina. I was hiding from the etiquette tutors who insisted I learn the proper way to hold a fork while my kingdom was grieving.”
“And you’re still hiding, in your way,” she said, her expression softening into the maternal concern I’d relied on since my mother passed. She stopped kneading to look at me properly, her eyes searching mine. “You’ve been the pillar of Syllavar since you were a boy, Trewyn. It’s a heavy thing to be the only one who isn’t allowed to break.” She reached for a fresh linen to wrap the bread, her voicedropping. “It’s good to see someone finally helping you set that burden down, even if it’s only for the length of a meal.”
“She doesn’t just help me set it down. She makes me feel like I don’t need it to be whole.”
“Half the castle is placing bets on when the wedding will be,” she said.
“Are they now?” I didn’t hold back my grin. “What odds are they giving?”
“Most think within the year. A few optimists say even sooner.” She wiped her hands on her apron, leaving streaks of flour. “I, for one, think it’s wonderful that you’ve found someone who makes you smile like you just won a war without fighting.” She moved to the cold storage, pulling out covered dishes. “Sweet or savory? Light or hearty?”