The Court of Mortals (Stariel Book 3) by AJ Lancaster

Author:AJ Lancaster [Lancaster, AJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
ISBN: 9780473499129
Publisher: Camberion Press
Published: 2020-01-18T05:00:00+00:00

Despite her anxiety, there was something inherently amusing about watching the two royals’ first encounter with a corner chippy. Neither of them said: this is not what we are accustomed to, but Hetta could almost hear them thinking it. She swapped looks with Marius, who grinned and kept placidly eating chips out of his twist of newspaper.

She probably could’ve taken them back to the hotel and fed them there, but she’d smelled the fried fish and been swamped by a wave of hungry nostalgia. The salt-and-vinegar taste was everything she remembered. Besides, this saves us an awkward mealtime conversation with Aunt Sybil.

“So what next?” Marius said, his mouth twitching as Catsmere inspected a piece of battered fish with all the suspicion of a child encountering a broccoli floret. “You can’t find Wyn with your magic, and the queensguard clearly haven’t found him either if they’re still trying to follow us.”

“Well, tomorrow I’m going to go and plague Lady Peregrine’s Society News until they tell me who tipped them off about Wyn,” Hetta said firmly.

“Playing politics, Lord Valstar?” Rakken asked, one eyebrow rising.

“If I have to.”

“And you think this will help you find our brother?” Catsmere said doubtfully. She ate the piece of fish in small, delicate bites.

Hetta sighed. “I think it will help me figure out who has it in for him besides your sister, which may or may not help me find him. You’re welcome to suggest any better ideas.”

They were silent.

Marius crumpled up his grease-stained newspaper and frowned into the middle distance. “I’m going to the Law Library tomorrow, when it opens.” He shrugged in answer to Hetta’s questioning glance. “I haven’t looked at the treaty between Stariel and the Crown in an age. If you’re dealing with Queen Matilda, you ought to know exactly what’s in it.”

He was right, and a more conscientious lord would probably have thought to check Stariel’s copy before she’d left her estate—but she hadn’t realised it might be relevant. Swearing fealty to the Crown was supposed to be ceremonial only, after all, not an actual political decision. But nothing had gone according to plan since leaving Meridon. No—since before then, since the day at the Standing Stones when the Spires had reached for Wyn. She stared up at the sky, no stars visible against the murky darkness with all the light pollution. Where are you, Wyn?

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