𝖝𝖑𝖛𝖎. Playing Matchmaker

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𝖝𝖑𝖛𝖎

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𝖝𝖑𝖛𝖎. Playing Matchmaker


Valencia


ANNABEL STALLS with such talent, as they all wait for her chronologically impaired grandson. Valencia is torn between asking for a lesson and skewering the woman to the wall with the steel of her throne.

There are maybe a dozen people in the throne room, only those necessary for a war council. Red and Silver, Scarlet Guard and agents of Montfort alongside noble houses of the Rift and rebel Norta. No matter how many times Valencia sees it, she can hardly get used to the sight.

Neither can her parents. Today, Nyoka Viper coils on her throne of emeralds like one of her snakes. She sinks back into black silk and rough gems, looking incomplete without some threatening predator pet at her knee. The panther must be indisposed today. She sneers while Annabel spins her wheels.

Arlo Vesper, on the other hand, sits in rapt attention, his acute focus locked entirely on Annabel even as she steps back. Trying to make her squirm. The head of House Roloson does no such thing, to her credit. Valencia is a magnetron, she knows steel when she sees it. And that old woman has steel in her bones.

"Matthew needs a capital. A place to plant his flag." Annabel pauses, pacing for effect as she surveys the throne room. Valencia fights the urge to scream at the old queen to fucking get on with it already.

But what Annabel should really do is go find Matt, wherever he might be, and drag him back here by the ears. The Piedmont base is lost, and this is a meeting of his own war council, not to mention Valencia's father's court. Making them wait isn't just rude; it's politically stupid. And a waste of her precious time.

He's probably off arguing with Maeve again, pretending not to look at her lips while he does it. The prince is terribly predictable, and Valencia hopes the pair of them will boil over into some not-so-secret relationship once more.

In a flash, she envisions the life Matt wants for them all. The life he would subject them all to. The crown on Valencia's head, his heart in Maeve's hand. Valencia's days bending to his will, no matter how gentle it might be. No matter how many days he might let her spend with Elle, as long as he can spend his with Maeve.

If only he wanted the lightning girl more. If only Valencia could make him want her more. But, as she told Maeve back in Corvium, Matt isn't the abdicating kind. You weren't either, she reminds herself. Until you had a taste of the other side.

At the thought, her insides flip. With excitement, with hope ━ and with exhaustion. She's already annoyed by the prospect of tangling herself up with Matt and Maeve more than she already is. Even if it is for her own happiness.

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