Fireblood (Frostblood Saga #2)(14)
His smile grew. “Oh, little bird,” he said smoothly, “I am second to no one.”
I huffed at his arrogance. “So you are the dignitary?”
He inclined his head.
“Arcus was afraid you wouldn’t come.” I’d been so fixated on the Fireblood queen, I’d forgotten to ask if the dignitary had replied to the invitation. So this was the elected leader of the southern provinces, the group of people who wanted self-governance within the kingdom. It was brave of him to show up. Some of the court would probably hang him for treason if they could.
His brows rose, and I realized I’d used the nickname “Arcus” instead of “King Arkanus.”
“A last-minute decision,” he replied. “Who could resist a glimpse of the king’s famous Fireblood champion?”
“I’m not his champion.”
“Don’t waste your time on false modesty, little bird. You were the first Fireblood to win in the king’s arena. A story to inspire bards and troubadours! The Fireblood peasant girl, hidden away in a mountain village until her mother’s death drove her to revenge. Destroyer of thrones. Killer of kings. And somehow, instead of facing execution for these crimes, she won the affection of the new Frost King and resides comfortably in his castle. I won’t make you blush by repeating the reasons they say he keeps you so close. Even if I can see quite clearly why those rumors are likely to be true. Your neck is far too lovely to be split in half.” He smiled as he watched my reaction—I struggled against a rush of angry heat—and he held up his palms. “Don’t blame me, Lady Ruby. I only repeat what I hear. You’re a legend, though perhaps more hated than admired in this court.”
Normally, I’d have told him what he could do with his thoughts on my so-called legendary status and my place in the court, but I didn’t want to do anything that would ruin Arcus’s chances for gaining a signature on his treaty. I swallowed my angry retort and scanned the room for an escape.
“It’s rather stuffy in here,” I said, aiming for a tone that conveyed regretful but firm dismissal. “I think I’ll take a stroll in the garden. If you’ll excuse me.”
“I’ll accompany you,” he said smoothly.
Annoyance flared, which for some reason made him grin.
“Hoping to escape me, were you? As I came all this way to speak to you, it would be rude of you to ignore me. After all, your king is hoping your presence here aids his campaign to unite his broken kingdom.”
“I wouldn’t call the kingdom ‘broken,’ and even if it were, I wouldn’t be the one to unite it.”
A twitch of his eyebrow gave the impression of disbelief. “It’s a sound strategy. Using your… friendship… to convince his detractors that he’s different from his brother. If his companion is a Fireblood, he can’t be all bad. Isn’t that the current propaganda being churned out by the Frost Court?”
“It’s not propaganda. And he doesn’t need me to convince people of that.”
“On the contrary, you’re the reason I’m here. And perhaps the Safrans would say the same. You’d make a far more effective ambassador than the imbeciles the king appoints to speak for him.”
“He has to work within the confines of the court,” I said, offended at the implication that Arcus chose his representatives poorly. “Why am I defending him to you? Go speak to him yourself, if you’re so skeptical. And leave me in peace.”
He laughed. “Perhaps you’re no ambassador after all. No dignitary can afford to trample on diplomacy with such abandon. But surely you’ve been instructed to help mend ties with the southern provinces?”
Arcus had said my presence here would help. He needed the peace treaties signed if he was to bring his troops home to their fields and villages. If I could help him do that, I should swallow my pride and keep my temper.
“I would be pleased to have you accompany me,” I said with a sigh.
“Ah, now see? That wasn’t so bad.”
As we turned toward the doors leading outside, someone sniffed loudly behind us. I turned and found myself face-to-face with a fox—a white frost fox pelt curled around the shoulders of a noblewoman.
“How fitting,” said Lady Blanding, somehow managing to look down her nose at me, even though we were about the same height. “The Fireblood peasant and the illiterate provincial, cozy as two rats in a barrel. They say a rodent will always manage to find more of its own kind.”
“Madam,” said the dignitary, “the only rodent I see is above your shoulders.”
“This is no rodent,” she retorted, smoothing the white fur with bejeweled fingers, her voice high with outrage. “My stole was made from a pure white frost fox, a gift from my husband before the species was hunted nearly to extinction.”
“I wasn’t referring to the fox,” he replied, each word enunciated, his gaze steady. When she finally took his meaning, her eyes turned to steel.
“My husband and I are powerful people,” she said, her voice as frigid as the pillars. “If I thought you deserved it, I might have argued for your salvation. As it is, I leave you to your fate.”
With a final outraged glance, Lady Blanding whirled and stomped away, her gray hair wobbling like a tower of curdled whipped cream. The back of her head sported a comb in the shape of a fox head, its diamond eyes staring lifelessly at me.