“That is not your concern, Chancellor.” Mr. Bordeaux taps his fingers on the table, the staccato hinting at his irritation.

I’m imagining the clench of Liam’s jaw, the protest that wants to tumble from his beautiful mouth, when Faye’s words make my muscles tense.

“The chancellor is right. She’s not a dog, Mr. Bordeaux. She’s a queen.”

Oh God.

I spring to my feet before he can react and shoot my oldest friend and confidant a harsh glare. “Go to your quarters. You’ll spend the evening alone without dinner.”

Faye’s eyes widen, her expression stricken as the reprimand settles between us. I’ve never wielded my authority over her in such a way, always acting with deference to our friendship and the fact that Faye is more like a sister to me than a subject, but I can’t allow her behavior to continue.

It’s too dangerous.

Pointing to the exit, I stare her down, willing her to obey, and that’s when Mr. Bordeaux rises beside me.

“You’re out of line, Novalee. It’s not your place to punish her. It’s mine.” His ire wraps around me, and I sense the scowl on his face rather than witness it because my attention fixes on Faye.

“Then I’ll take her punishment. Please send her away. I beg of you.”

My words send Faye scrambling from her chair, mouth twisted in outrage. “No!” Her gaze seeks Liam. “Chancellor, please do something. She’s not safe with him.”

I don’t know how she came to that conclusion, since she’s barely spent two minutes in the same room with Mr. Bordeaux, but something about him has pricked at her intuition.

She felt the same way about my uncle when he arrived six years ago.

Liam pushes a hand through his coppery hair, revealing his stressed state of mind. “Your disobedience isn’t helping the queen.” Pausing, his eyes narrow. “For the next month, Novalee is the subject of Mr. Bordeaux.”

The man in question closes the short distance to where she stands, hands on her hips despite the sharp lines of anxiety on her face. He grabs her by the chin. “If you know what’s best for your queen, you will keep your mouth shut while she takes your punishment. Is that clear?”

She doesn’t answer at first, prompting him to shake her chin until the sought-after words fall from her lips. “Y-yes, Mr. Bordeaux.”

“Kneel and don’t even think of moving until it’s over.”

Her legs buckle, lips trembling as she mouths an apology to me from her spot on the floor.

“Loren,” Mr. Bordeaux says with a snap of his fingers.

His manservant materializes from the edge of the room. “Yes, Master Bordeaux?”

“Bring me a ball gag.”