“We are agreed on that,” King Athon sneered. He rubbed his hands over his face in irritation, and then he shook his head as if he were trying to wake himself up. He tilted his head at the doorway. “You need to go back to bed and pretend you’re sleeping. I’ll wait five minutes before I start pounding on royal doors to show the other rulers what we—I—just discovered. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly.” I yawned and stretched, knowing I wouldn’t get any sleep until Penelope arrived in a few hours. “You’ll put on a show for the rulers, boasting about your great intellect and their inferiority for not noticing this sooner. And I’ll try not to drop from exhaustion while you five posture like peacocks until they shut up, and you’re finally able to show them the details.” I flicked my right thumb up in approval. “Message received, shifter.”
His slightly pointed chin quivered with barely restrained humor, but he griped, “Hurry up and get in bed so that I can start the pounding.”
Both of us stopped in place, staring at one another.
My blink was gradual. “You know, it’s late. I’m not even going to comment. That was far too easy, not challenging in the slightest.”
“I do appreciate that. I’m not in my best form right now.” King Athon rubbed at his eyes. “And you really do need to slip back into King Traevon’s bedchamber. Do not wake him up, Princess.”
I strolled past him and grabbed my traveling bag off the chair, slinging the strap over my shoulder. I lifted the bottom of my father’s pajama pants over my feet, keeping a good grip on the cloth so I didn’t trip as I walked toward the door. I didn’t turn around as I requested, “If you have any more of that dried jerky left, make sure to bring it out. I’m hungry again.”
He grunted. “You are a pain in my ass.”
“Most assuredly. But I’m also the one who figured this out. Think about that while you take credit for my work.” I chuckled at his resultant snarl—a tiger pissed off. Right as I exited the room, I chirped, “I hate you, too! Don’t forget the food.”
CHAPTER THREE
Confession of a princess:
A royal thrives on knowledge.
The more I learn, the more I know how to win the battle. And there is much to know about the rulers I stand beside. I have only scratched the surface of their shells, but I am always studying them.
You never know where they might crack. Then... Then you know where you can break them.
I YAWNED LARGE enough that all my teeth showed as I trudged behind my king into the conference room, while a furious pounding jarred our ears in the distance. My attention snagged on the shifter desk, noting a pile of dried jerky there. I bit back a grin and marched straight toward the food, swerving between Queen Mikko and King Elon, not paying them any attention, my eyes homed in on the prize.
“Where are you going?” Father spouted, muddled in his tired state. “Stay over here by me.”
“Food.” I pointed, not stopping my progress. I rubbed my hands up and down my arms briskly, attempting to gather warmth into my chilled bones. “I’m starving.”
King Traevon sighed his exasperation and followed swiftly in my wake, watching as I stole a large handful of nutrition off the shifter desk. He disciplined sleepily, “You should have asked first, my heir. I know you’re tired, but do not forget your manners.”
I gnawed on a jerky, stating around the food, “I’m awake at this Fae awful time of day. Fuck manners right now, my king.”
He blinked his emerald eyes slowly, his gaze caught on my mouth in horror. “At least be polite and chew with your mouth closed. That is absolutely ghastly.”
I snorted and shut my mouth while I chewed.
I could behave—for now.
It wouldn’t be long before I misbehaved.
A plan had already formed in my mind.
King Elon sidled up next to me, eyeing the food in my clutched hand. He looked toward the shifter desk, the vertical, red slits of his reptilian, molten green eyes narrowing.
He quickly snatched one for himself.
A satisfied smile leisurely lifted his lips, his pale blush of silver skin pinching around his mouth. He casually sauntered away in his pajamas, nipping at a jerky.
I waggled my food at the gorgon king’s back, whispering, “See? Fuck manners.”
King Traevon remarked under his breath, “Fae help us if your behavior is rubbing off on him.”
Queen Mikko leaned her hip against her desk, murmuring dryly in her elegant tone, “I cannot believe Queen Alora is keeping us waiting. I wonder what excuse she will give this time since she’s already here? Perhaps a current of sleep swept her too far away.”
The four of us paused, our heads cocking, listening.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang.
“The better question is how long until King Athon forgoes all courtesy and breaks down her door?” Father’s mouth quirked up at one side, maliciously tickled at the thought. “I give it less than a minute.”
King Elon hissed, “Surely he would not do—”
Crack!
My eyes shot open wide as the breaking of wood echoed, as if it were snapping over and over again. “Oh my Fae.”
Queen Alora squealed with her high-pitched voice, “You barbaric air breather! What the Fairy do you think you’re doing? You can’t come in here like this! It’s against our rules!”
Of course, we couldn’t hear King Athon’s response.
I shoved a piece of jerky in my mouth while I considered the shifter king’s brazen conduct. “You know, my king, her voice almost sounds normal from this far away.”
Father gurgled on a laugh, his emerald eyes glazing over with restrained hilarity. But lest I forget where I was—and who we were with—he lectured quietly, “She is of the ocean, my heir. Do not dismiss that.”
I rolled my eyes at his words, but my regard halted on a piece of black clothing on the floor, tucked away in a corner. I strolled across the gleaming white tile and stopped to stare down at it. I used my free hand—not full of dried jerky—and lifted the lush, soft material off the floor. It was a large, knitted sweater that nearly felt like silk to the touch.
I blinked and pivoted, showing the item to the rulers. “Your Royal Highnesses, does anyone know whose this is?”
All three shook their heads, just as baffled as I was.
I immediately smiled, my fangs flashing under the Fae light. “Mine now!”
“My heir, you cannot just take—”
“It’s freezing in here at night, and, yes, I can. Watch if you like. I’ll show you how it’s done,” I retorted, shutting him down, highly annoyed, having been up all evening working to save the realm while they slept. Eager to no longer be ice cold, I quickly shoved my head through the neck hole and wiggled my arms—jerky included—through the armholes. I lifted my arms out to my sides, the ends of the sleeves drooping and hanging low from my raised hands, while the hem of the sweater tumbled down to my knees, covering a goodly portion of my father’s too large pajama bottoms. I intoned my words plainly. “See, my king? That is how it’s done.”
Father ran his fingers through his red hair. “Holy Fae above and below, I can’t scold her when she…” He trailed off, shaking his head with frustrated adoration shining from his eyes.