Molls bobbed her head. “Thank you, Prince Rían.”
He waved his hand, dismissing the gratitude.
Her eyes narrowed on him, and he looked between the two of us like he was confused.
His hands dropped to the arms of his chair. “You want me to gonow?”
“Sure, what else are you doing?”
A muscle in his jaw ticked, but he stood and stomped down the dais, following Molls into the hallway. The moment I heard the front door slam, the tension in my shoulders eased, and I swore the temperature in the room cooled.
The next three people were there to pay taxes in silver, ripe red apples, and goats. It was a good thing Rían was gone. If he saw the two brown animals traipsing along the stones, he’d lose his feckin’ mind. Not everyone had vaults of silver and gold.
Some people only had goats.
Aidan McManus, a leprechaun from up the coast, towed his daughter to the dais. She was a pretty thing, her white hair contrasting beautifully with her dark skin, and she stood twice as tall as her father. I couldn’t quite recall, but I thought her mother was a selkie. The girl gave a half-hearted curtsy, her gaze never rising from her black boots.
Aidan’s white whiskers twitched when he frowned. “Forgive me for havin’ to waste yer time with this matter, my prince, but ‘tis an urgent one.”
I waited for him to explain what was so urgent, but all he did was dart a glare over his shoulder to the twenty or so people left in the hall. “I’m afraid it’s of a”—his gaze flicked to his daughter’s downcast face—“sensitivenature.”
I stood from the uncomfortable wooden throne and waved for them to follow me into the study, ignoring the murmurs from the remaining crowd. It wasn’t as if I was bringing the girl in here alone. She had a feckin’ chaperone.
Shelves of books on Tearmann law towered on either side of the door and along the wall. Sunlight streamed through the high windows, baking the leather-and-ink-scented air.
“Now, then. What’s the issue?” I asked, propping myself against my desk, bracing my hands on the edge.
Aidan and his daughter stopped an arm’s length away.
“I caught old Ferdal’s son defiling my poor Eilis in the middle of the feckin’ night,” Aidan ground out, the tips of his pointed ears going red.
The girl let out a whimper, her lower lip trembling.
Heat flared inside my chest. My fingers clenched the wood. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to share the details outside. “And where is the boy now?”
“In my barn,” Aidan said with a nod. “Have him clapped in iron chains like the criminal he is.”
When the girl whimpered again, her father gave her arm a shake. Sniffling, she dragged her sleeve beneath her nose.
“Did he force himself on you?” I asked in a soft voice.
She glanced at her father before looking back down to her shoes.
“The prince asked ye a question, Eilis. Answer him.”
Unease settled in my stomach next to the croissants I’d eaten for breakfast. There was something about the way her father kept answering for her that didn’t sit right. I pushed away from my desk, sending them both back a step. “Eilis, would you feel comfortable speaking to me alone?” Aidan looked appalled by the suggestion. “I swear I will not touch you,” I said, as much for her benefit as her father’s.
She nodded but still did not meet my gaze.
“Aidan, step into the hallway and wait until I call for you.” I gestured toward the door across the room.
He looked like he wanted to protest. In the end, he turned and stalked toward the door.
The soft click made the girl jump.
“Now, I’ll ask you once more: did the boy force himself on you?”
Biting her lip, she shook her head, sending her white hair swaying over hunched shoulders.