Black Crown (Darkest Drae, #3)(61)

“We’ve come to see if we could use your boats, Your Majesty,” Dyter continued, not wasting any time, perhaps flustered by her gem-encrusted chest.

“Of course you can,” the young woman said. “I would do anything for Berald and that sweet girl.”

Sweet girl? Tyrrik’s sardonic implication was clear.

Whatever. I’m totally sweet.

“How soon would you be willing to let us—”

The stunning redhead straightened in the throne and wiggled her shoulders, adjusting her legs.

My gaze lowered, and my brows rose. I’ve never seen nudity flaunted so much before.

Tyrrik snorted quietly. There’s a bead of sweat running down the back of Dyter’s neck.

Sounds interesting.

It’s the most interesting thing I’m willing to look at right now. Unless it’s you.

“Sir Lamar!” The queen grimaced as a man crossed in front of her. When he stopped and her eyes lit with recognition, her frown flipped into a smile. “Ah, Sir Lamar. Will you please let the boat-master know that . . . Dretems here”—she pointed at Dyter—“is going to use some of the boats tomorrow?”

Seriously? Just like that? That seemed . . . too easy. If she was genuine, then I had to believe this kingdom really was as frivolous and out of touch with reality as they appeared. Yet that was hard to swallow too. I wasn’t even sure I could forgive that level of stupidity. But she’d also called Dyter Dretems, which I planned to make the most of later.

“Of course, Queen Mily,” the dark-haired man said with a nod. “Did you want me to find him now or in the morning?”

The queen leaned over and asked, “What do you think? Is he at the party?”

Sir Lamar nodded. “Yes, but I could find him if you’d like.”

An icy chill brushed over my skin, and I glanced away from the queen to see a tall dark-haired man with vibrant-green eyes staring at her.

She must’ve felt his gaze on her too, for she looked away from the man she was giving orders to, and when she saw the green-eyed man, she waved away Sir Lamar saying, “Today, tomorrow. Whichever is fine.” She glanced at Dyter and said, “Enjoy the party. Tomorrow morning you can do whatever you need with the boats.” She stood and, as she descended the steps, said, “Please excuse me.”

Uh-uh, what had just happened? She sidled up to the green-eyed man and wrapped around him like a vine—whoa, yeah. I did not want to see any more of Queen Mily’s body. Ever.

Dyter turned to Sir Lamar, but the man’s gaze had gone steely, and he said, “You’ll want to be at the docks in the morning. Feel free to enjoy Queen Mily’s birthday party in the meantime.”

He turned and strode through the crowd.

“What do we do?” Dilowa asked as her attention darted left.

I looked and saw a young man, easily half Dilowa’s age, beckoning her suggestively.

“We should leave,” Dyter said, looking first at Zarad and then at the rest of our limited group. “There are a lot of distractions here—”

Zarad and Gairome nodded, although both were eyeing different women. A few minutes later, a gong sounded, and the chandeliers began to lower.

“Did you want a turn in there?” a guard asked Dyter. “There are plenty of slaves to go around.”

A growl slipped between my teeth. As soon as we won this war, that would be the first thing to go.

Dyter shook his head. “No. Will you show us to our rooms, please?”

The guard burst into laughter. “The party lasts all night; everyone will be staying here now. The doors are closed.”

Was that a command? I glanced back at the archway we’d entered and noticed the doors were, in fact, closed.

“Now what?” I asked, frowning.

“Keep the veil up on you and Tiago, but let me out. I can still see and hear you, regardless,” Tyrrik said. “Let me talk with Dyter.”

I slipped Tyrrik out from under the veil, my attention rooted to my mate.

“What’s the plan?” Tyrrik asked, yanking back Gairome as he stepped toward a beckoning beauty.

Another servant passed by with fingerfood on her tray, and Zared stopped her. She held the tray out with a pancake stuffed with cabbage and diced tomatoes.

“What is it?” Zared asked.

“Fish packets. It has a cilantro crema. They’re my favorite,” she said, her gaze raking over our group, and then she shook her head, expression full of pity. “Here. Try one.”

Zared reached for one, and Dyter grabbed the prince’s wrist. “What if they’re poisoned?”

The woman replied, “It’s the queen’s birthday party. She’s all about good things. There’s no way she’s poisoning anyone.” She grabbed a folded pancake and bit into it. “See?”

Holding Zared back, Dyter studied the woman, his scar blanching the longer he stared at her. “How long have you been here in Azule?”

Why was he so fixated by her? I shifted my attention from him to her, examining her features beyond the black tattoos. I recoiled, filled with disapprobation as awareness settled in my mind.

She dropped her chin toward her chest and said, “Five years.” Her lower lip trembled. “I heard Cal was Irdelron’s son. And the crops are growing again.”