The Bloodsworn by Erin Lindsey Page A

thought?
Probably
, he decided. Erik had too much gravitas to be brushed aside. Liam, on the other hand . . .
    â€œYou must understand, Your Highness—” Highmount began, preparing to launch into yet another lecture.
    A soft knock sounded, and Rona Brown poked her head into the study. “Am I interrupting?”
    â€œDear gods, no.” Liam waved her in.
    She took a seat across the desk from Liam, in the place Alix used to sit when conferring with Erik. She’d taken Alix’s place as captain of the royal guardsmen too, more or less, working closely with Pollard. “All is well,” she reported, “or rather, as well as it can be under the circumstances. The chamber guards changed over this morning—I’ve just come from debriefing them. His Majesty’s spirits are . . . not improved. But he is eating again, at least.”
    Liam blew out a breath. “Thank the gods.”
    â€œGood news indeed,” said Highmount. “I feared something drastic might be required.”
    Rona winced. “Yes, well, thankfully that won’t be necessary. He took both supper and breakfast, and he’s no longer wearing holes in the carpets with pacing. Apparently he just sits at the window now, staring out into the gardens.”
    A familiar jolt of fear arced through Liam. “We’re absolutely
sure
no one can see him from out there?”
    He’d asked the question half a dozen times, and Rona always gave him the same patient answer. “The gardens are sealed off. Even with a longlens, there’s no way anyone but our guardsmen can get eyes on that window.”
    Liam nodded, comforted—for a few hours, anyway, until the next bolt of fear lit him up again. He’d be as grey-haired as Highmount by the time this was done. Assuming he survived.
    â€œIt would appear His Majesty has finally resigned himself to the situation,” Highmount said. “That is for the best. I do not like to think of him suffering unduly.”
    Unduly.
Such a sensitive man, Highmount.
    Another knock at the door; this time, it was Pollard who looked inside. “I beg your pardon, Your Highness. Lady Sirin Grey requests a word.”
    The three of them exchanged a look.
    â€œBloody hells,” Liam growled, “that’s all we need.” To Pollard, he said, “Show her in.”
    They received their guest in a cluster of plush chairs near the window, the better to convey how very unconcerned they were by her visit. She swept aside the shining folds of her dress as she sat, smoothing them down with jewel-studded fingers and arranging them
just so
. Her braids were bound up under a delicate net of freshwater pearls, and a pair of sapphires dangled from her ears, catching the sunlight. A bit much for midmorning, in Liam’s estimation. Like an aging woman plastered in cosmetics, or a knight who insists on wearing armour that no longer fits, Lady Sirin was trying a little too hard to cling to the past—in this case, her family’s lost prestige.
    â€œTo what do we owe the pleasure?” Liam asked, breaking out his most charming smile.
    â€œI’ve come to pay my respects to His Majesty.”
    â€œYour respects?” Liam laughed awkwardly. “Did someone die?”
    â€œHow amusing,” Sirin said, sounding about as amused as if Liam had spilled tea down the front of her frock. “It’s so dreadful being ill, don’t you agree? I should like to boost his spirits.” She smiled sweetly.
    â€œHis Majesty will be gratified to hear it,” Highmount said, “but alas, it is quite impossible. As we have already discussed, the risk of contagion is too great.”
    â€œMy risk to take, surely?” The sweet smile never wavered, as fine-edged as a razor.
    â€œNot really, no,” Liam said. “If you fall ill, you may infect others, and the last thing we need is more council members unfit for duty.”
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