412 Questioned The King

Islinda witnessed Queen Maeve clenching her hand so tightly that her nails dug into her palm and drew blood. Once, twice, thrice, the blood hit the ground before her eyes darted away. 

Maeve, the Fae Queen, was being pushed against the wall. She was like a volcano on the verge of erupting. Islinda knew Aldric was cruel, but reducing the queen of a nation to a joke took a lot of guts. 

"What else can I say?" A strained smile spread across Queen Maeve's face as she responded, "I am a kind Queen and known for taking in strays. I think it would be wonderful to add a dark Fae prince to my collection, and I am sure the Winter Queen would be overjoyed to know that I am looking after her son, no matter where she is." 

The air grew frigid, and Aldric felt his fists tighten, also observing the cold expression his father gave Queen Maeve. Quite intriguing. In such situations, his father would typically take a neutral stance. It appears that there was trouble in paradise.