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“Did you sleep well?” Roar asked, clearly keen to get off the subject of the harem and on to something more innocuous.

I crossed my arms. “Not really. Something else happened last night.”

“Oh?” Roar leaned forward.

I told him about Calpurnia and the Ithamai sisters. With each word, his face grew more stoney. I finished my tale by cutting it short, saying I outran them and hid behind a tapestry.

“That is outrageous,” he condemned.

“It is. More importantly, how do we react to this? Do you think they’d believe that I’d keep this to myself?”

Roar stood, got a second glass of water, stepping over the broken one on his way. “Some ladies are trained to keep their woes inside. Not all, of course. Particularly not if the female is more powerful than her mate.”

“Like Lady Virtoris?” I hadn’t even heard of the Lord Virtoris, but as Sayyida’s mother held the title of Lady of Ships, it stood to reason that whether her husband lived or not, she was the more powerful fae. In this kingdom, magical power dictated which heir inherited a title from their parents. And if the title holder was female, they did not change their name when they married.

“Exactly.” He sipped from his glass. “I believe our best course of action is not to make waves.”

“You do?”

“Last night, the king made it quite clear he wanted us to remain to build ties. Perhaps if you were not new to this world, he would have released us, but that is not the case. Hence, we endure. I will pretend like you did not tell me this, as if you are merely a weak common fae too scared to tell her betrothed of more powerful fae’s misdoings.”

I hated that, but at the same time, I understood. We had to go about this with intelligence. Perhaps, if we socialized enough, the king would change his mind and release us before the end of the Courting Festival. By the moon, I hoped so. I did not want to be here weeks longer.

Of course, playing nicely would likely be easier said than done.

Chapter 30

Roar and I strolled down the castle corridors, hand in hand, our chins held high. Though I’d have loved to have her with me for support, Clemencia had not been invited to breakfast with the king and queen, so she remained in our quarters, preparing for the ball.

Along the way, I noted the twists and turns we took. I was determined not get into a situation like I had last night, frantic and running and not sure where to go. Too much had been left to chance then and counting on the castle’s goodwill seemed foolish.

But I’m still counting on Prince Vale’s . . . the intrusive thought arose, and I banished it quickly. Roar could never know of that, and it would not do for me to linger on the thought. The prince held all the power, but he’d been merciful last night. Though I didn’t know why that was, I had to hope he’d continue to be so.

When we reached the busy intersection of corridors where the massive white bear stood, I tried not to look at it. Though I’d seen it a handful of times, it continued to make me uncomfortable.

“Are you well?” Roar squeezed my hand.

“Enough. I had a difficult time sleeping last night.”

A truth, though not for the reasons he’d assume. How very fae of me.

“Just remember that I’ll be with you. And the king won’t overstep with his wife present.” He glanced at me and gave a firm nod.

“Of course,” I said softly, agreeably. Since arriving in Avaldenn, we’d had enough strife between us and I wanted to smooth that over.

We entered another hallway, this one more crowded. I took in the tapestries lining the walls. How different they looked from those I saw last night in the hidden part of the castle. White bears were everywhere, and now that I had seen all the royal family, I recognized their portraits. Some, however, stood out. An older female fae stared out from one portrait. She looked at the viewer with a sad smile.

“Who is that?” I nodded at the portrait.

“King Magnus’s mother. Kilyn Aaberg.”

The one the Falk prince, the Cruel King’s brother, had gotten with child.

“What house was she from? If I recall correctly, her husband was more powerful in magic and rank. So, she took his name?”

“Correct. He’s an Aaberg by bloodline, and she hails from a smaller branch of House Qiren.”

I tucked away that information, still struck by the female’s sad expression. Why would King Magnus want to portray that image of his mother? Why not pick something happier?