Free Web NovelChapter 303: Chapter 303
"Your Majesty, Aeron Tavish is here, just as you requested," Lady Isolde said, stopping before the towering doors of the atrium.
"Send him in," Nheera replied at once. She turned, watching her lady-in-waiting retreat back through the slightly opened door. Barely a minute passed before the doors opened again, their heavy hinges groaning softly as the man she had been waiting anxiously for stepped inside.
After dispatching letters to the nobles, informing them of Irah’s death and the cancellation of the final day of the festivities, Nheera had penned one last missive. Unlike the others, this one was intended for one man alone. Aeron Tavish. In it, she requested his presence the following morning.
Given Aeron’s and his brother’s habitual disregard for her authority and their infuriating penchant for testing her patience, she had not truly expected him to come. She could easily picture him skimming the letter, scoffing, then crumpling it in his fist before tossing it aside without a second thought.
Yet she waited all the same. She had no other choice.
The situation she found herself in was precarious, one Laheir had been all too pleased to engineer, and any misstep now could cost her dearly. She could not act impulsively. Caution, no matter how bitter it tasted, was her only chance of navigating through this situation.
"People usually bow when they come before me," Nheera said coolly when Aeron made no move to do so.
"Ah, where are my manners?" he replied, dropping into an exaggerated, theatrical bow. "Do forgive my impudence, Your Majesty."
Her lips twitched as she fought the urge to curl them in open distaste.
"It has been far too long since we last sat together," Nheera said, forcing serenity into her expression. "For the past few years, I’ve been stuck with the likes of your younger brother, and heavens know he is dreadful company."
In truth, she wanted nothing more than to hurl something sharp in Aeron’s direction for the sheer pleasure of it, for all the needless complications he and his family had introduced into her life. But she reminded herself to be patient. There was a time and place for that kind of indulgence, and this was neither.
What she needed now was a solution, not the satisfaction of losing her temper.
"And here I thought you two were the best of friends," Aeron said lightly. Decades of observing Nheera had taught him how to read her moods with unsettling ease. Where the rest of the kingdom saw a queen who was cunning and unpredictable, Aeron Tavish saw an open book.
"Well, you thought wrong," Nheera replied, a bitter note creeping into her voice. "Come. Drink with me. It will be like old times."
She had instructed servants to prepare the table for only the two of them. A single pitcher of wine sat untouched at its center, flanked by two empty cups. She lifted the pitcher and filled them both generously, the dark liquid catching the light as it poured.
"If it were truly like old times," Aeron said as he approached, "you wouldn’t have bothered with these false niceties." He lowered himself into one of the chairs. "They don’t suit you, Nheera. Not at all."
Her lips thinned, but she chose not to dignify the remark with a response.
Instead, she took the opposite seat and fixed him with an expectant stare.
"Let’s not waste time playing games, Aeron. You know why I asked you here."
"I may be many things, but a mind reader is not one of them." He replied smoothly, glancing down at the cup before him before his eyes flicked back to her. freēwēbηovel.c૦m
"It isn’t poisoned," Nheera said pointedly. To emphasize the truth of it, she lifted her own cup and drank deeply, nearly draining half its contents in one gulp.
Aeron chuckled. "That would be a poor decision on your part. Killing me would only mean one less Tavish and it wouldn’t matter in the slightest. You’d be dead the moment you stepped out of this atrium, and whatever victory you imagined would die with you."
He picked up his cup and raised it in a small, mocking toast before taking a sip. "To old times, dear Nheera."
She clenched her jaw, maintaining her pleasant smile through sheer force of will. She was the queen in her own palace, her own domain, yet Aeron Tavish still held the advantage.
There were only a handful of people in Lamora who wielded true, unquestionable power. Aeron was one of them.
Setting her cup aside, she studied him briefly in silence. Dark, cunning eyes met her gaze, eyes too similar to his brother’s. His angular features had barely softened with age, and his presence pressed down on the room like a stifling weight.
Still, she did not waver. From the way he watched her now, she knew he already understood why he was here. The wretch.
"I spoke to Laheir," Nheera said at last. "I told him of the necessity for Hairan to marry before I ever approached Elka’s parents. I laid everything out for him. An alliance between the crown and one of the great houses would strengthen our position considerably." She paused, eyes never leaving Aeron’s face. "And you know as well as I do how desperately we need that strength."
"That’s not what he told me," Aeron said, already sounding bored with the conversation. He lounged back in his chair, fingers idly tapping the armrest. "He claimed you forced this situation on him, and I find that I have more reason to believe my brother than you."
She hardly batted an eye before responding.
"I understand why it might have felt that way to him," she said calmly. "As a mother, I truly do. He believes I am trying to replace his daughter, but I assure you that is not the case." A carefully practiced solemnity overtook her expression, her features softening just enough to appear sincere. "Iliana’s death did not affect House Tavish alone. It devastated House Acheron as well. The entire kingdom mourned her loss. We even waged war on Westeria to avenge her murder. My family has done everything that could possibly be done."
