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“Where’s Riven?” I asked. We were meant to enter the party together. He was the Dark Fae emissary able to pull rank with the lords. Without him or an invitation I’d be interrogated the moment I stepped through the doors.

“Slight change of plans,” Nikolai muttered. He sounded annoyed.

“What kind of slight change?” I asked through my teeth.

“Nothing big,” Nikolai said, holding up his hands. “He just went to the manor early to scout some things out. He’ll meet you at the door.”

I wanted to protest but there was nothing to be done. Riven was already there, having changed the plans without letting me know. If we made it through the night, he’d be getting a taste of my wrath.

I stepped into the carriage without saying a word and closed the door.

“This’ll be fun,” I heard Nikolai murmur from outside.

I watched out the window as we rode up the sandstone drive. The manor looked different from the ground. I was so used to perching on the roofs and garden walls, I forgot how beautiful it was. Like the rest of the city, it was built in circles. The drive cut through the circle moat that surrounded the grand house and was flanked by stone walls on either side.

Small circle islands, covered in trees that bloomed red and orange, were sprinkled through the water. The manor itself was erected from sandstone. The second story encased by an open-air terrace. From its perch on the highest hill in Cereliath, the terrace held the most beautiful views in the entire city. Grand pillars of yellow stone held the roof and sunstone tower above it.

Nikolai steered the horses to the small queue of carriages that had formed at the main entrance of the manor. I sat patiently as we creeped forward, searching for Riven through the window of the carriage. I didn’t see him.

It wasn’t a good sign for how the rest of the night would go.

After several minutes, Nikolai hopped down and opened the carriage door, holding his arm out for me to use. For the briefest moment, I didn’t take it. Servants did not offer their arms to the king’s Blade.

But tonight, I wasn’t the king’s Blade. I hadn’t been for weeks, truly.

All they would see was another Mortal woman in a spectacular dress.

That is, if they ever got the chance to see it. Riven was our only ticket in. It was safer than exposing my hand as Blade. Not many would question a Dark Fae emissary to his face. They would be too frightened to protest even if they wanted to. We were counting on it.

Just as I was counting on Riven to show up to collect me.

Nikolai shut the door behind me and gave a courteous bow. I could see him stop himself from bowing too low, acting too extravagant for a lowly coachman. The point was for him to be innocuous. A hard task for Nikolai on any day.

I pulled my hood forward. I toyed with the gold bracelet along my wrist. Syrra had crafted it and Riven had infused the metal with a glamour. It would keep people from seeing me completely. Even if my mask slipped, my ears would appear Mortal to anyone inside. The silver color of my eyes would be a normal shade of brown to anyone who didn’t know who was behind the mask. Just like the glamour we had passed through in Aralinth.

Without Riven, I was drawing too much attention to myself, standing in the middle of the entryway without an invitation or a date. Women were not invited to the House of Harvest; they accompanied the lords who worked there.

Riven appeared along the garden path, walking briskly. I sighed, my anger fading into relief. He was cloaked in black. He wore long boots that were cut at his knee and gave way to tailored trousers in the same hue of nightshade. His jacket was long and closed by several buttons along his chest, a gold chain connected the top button to a gold crest of three Elder birch leaves.

The crest of the Fae.

If his garb and towering frame weren’t noticeable enough, he wore a mask of dark teal that did nothing to hide his Fae ears. It emphasized the color of his eyes and the sharp angles of his face. His black hair was braided along the sides of his head, the top pulled back into a gold clasp before cascading down his back.

He was more than handsome. He was striking. Even I couldn’t help but feel a pull toward him. There wasn’t a Mortal man here that could compare to Riven. Which was the point. Our presence was meant to be so obviously distracting that no one noticed when we lifted the key right off Lord Curringham’s neck.

Riven dipped his head, offering me his arm.

“You changed the plan.” The words ripped through my stiff smile.

“It’s all the same from this point forward.” His breath warmed my neck.

I grabbed his arm, my eyes narrowing along the sharp bridge of Riven’s nose. He turned away, unwilling to meet my gaze. My gut plummeted through the white tile floor.

I didn’t care that Riven was keeping secrets. I only hoped they didn’t get us killed.

The hall was scattered with people. Some were guests, some Halfling servants of the house. All of them stared as we walked by—not at me, but at Riven.

It’d been decades since any major house in Elverath had hosted one of the Dark Fae. Everyone’s eyes bulged when they realized who—what—Riven was. One of the lords’ wives fainted as Riven walked past.