Page 41 of The Queen's Line

Griffin's laugh was bright and cheerful, and she rose quickly from the table, finishing her coffee and grabbing a small quiche in her palm. "If no one minds, I'd like to walk the woods a little to get a better understanding of what's available and where I might start."

"Of course," I said, and Aric grunted. He had a pie of his own in hand, and I hadn't even seen him come close enough to the table to take it.

Griffin left the greenhouse, and Aric turned to me. "She'll do?"

"Yes, I like her," I said.

"She liked you too," Aric said, and then he nodded once and turned for the door.

"Aric. I'm…I'm sorry for claiming you in front of the guard. It was the first thing I thought of," I said.

Aric rolled back on his heels, raising the hand holding the pie up to his lips to catch a crumb on his tongue. Sunlight was falling through the moldy windows of the greenhouse, landing on his blade sharp cheekbones.

"It's true that I can't be imprisoned unless you say so?" Aric asked, smirking a little.

"Yes, but it doesn't mean I won't give the order if I think you deserve it," I said, narrowing my eyes.

Aric laughed, and then he moved to take Griffin's seat, pouring himself a new cup of coffee. "I don't doubt that, princess."

"What is… Do you know what kind of shifter she is?" I asked, scooting forward in my seat.

"Mm, red hawk, I think. Haven't seen for myself. Kimmery's shifters aren't so bold as your Prince Thao," Aric said. "But his transformation is a secret process the Mennarian royals keep for themselves."

I'd heard that the tiger gene in Mennary was exclusive to the royals, not that it was a process, but I trusted Aric to know his magic. "And Kimmery's shifters?"

"Northern blood," Aric said, shrugging. "I've always assumed it might be a mineral that gets into the water and affects babes pre-birth. It's more common away from the wealthier homes so…"

"So less likely to occur in families drinking wine and water that's been cleaned and treated," I said, and Aric nodded. "And the Hunger is..."

"The Hunger is exclusive to the women of your family," Aric said, frowning. "Perhaps it's growing weaker since you don't seem to share it with your sister."

Oh. I hadn't… Well, of course I hadn'ttoldAric about the Hunger finally rearing its head. I wasn't likely to be telling Aric about what I was doing with Owen in the stable regardless. And now I found I didn't want to. Aric might know more about magic than anyone else I could speak to, but whatever trust he had in me was due to the fact that we'd believed I wasmissingthe Hunger. Now that I knew what the power was really capable of, I was less apt to trust myself too. I'd felt the stirrings of Hunger while toying with Owen the night before, but it was less distinguishable from everyday desire.

"How long do you plan on continuing the charade of Hunger and Chosen and the like?" Aric asked, watching me too closely for my comfort in the moment.

"Until I've secured the crown and I know that my grandmother won't talk my mother into passing it to Camellia," I said, squaring my shoulders. That'd been true before it had shown up, at least.

Aric leaned into the arm of the chair, and my eyes snagged on the elegant perch of his fingers as his head tilted into his hand. "Have you heard from the council?"

"Not yet. I'll have to reach out perhaps," I said.

"See how much they let you get away with first," Aric said, smiling lightly. "If you ignore them, you can act without the pretense of wanting their approval. Save diplomacy for when it's called on."

Footsteps approached, and we both looked up as Cosmo entered. "Hello, Aric."

"Pianetta," Aric said with a dip of his head. He sighed and pushed up from his seat. "I should get back to the city before the vultures circle my crown."

"Is King of Thieves a much sought after title?" I asked, wanting to delay Aric a little longer.

He shrugged. "I have my rivals, same as you. At least mine aren't blood."

I chewed over that unpleasant truth as Aric saw himself out and Cosmo joined me for quiche and coffee.

14

Cosmo

Iwasn't usually jealous with my lovers, and to be fair, Bryony wasn't rightly my lover, but I watched her fiddling with Owen's hands idly with a bitter kind of fondness. They stood together by the window of my studio, picturesque and sweet. She was easy with me, but she and Owen kept near constant physical contact with one another for the past couple days. If I was more keen on painting, I would've asked them to pose for me.