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“But why would someone want to come here?” My skin crawled. “Doesn’t he think it odd? Invasive?”

“Many of the lords in Avaldenn frequent the harem at the king’s invitation.”

“Have you?”

“No. I try to avoid the city as much as I can.” Roar sighed. “Let’s see what he wants.”

No one denied King Magnus, certainly not a couple trying to win his favor and blessing, so I straightened my shoulders and approached the curtain. Before we had even pushed past the curtain, the doors shut, sealing us inside.

The scent of jasmine overwhelmed me as a warm humidity I was not used to hugged my skin. I swallowed as, step by step, the room unveiled itself, each sight invoking a new emotion, not all of them unpleasant. Attractive females and a few males lounged and laughed on velvet cushions, and that brought a sliver of happiness. The scenery, a sort of indoor oasis complete with a pool surrounded by gorgeous flowers explained the humidity and was pleasing to the eye, though the whole thing felt distinctly off in Frostveil Castle. I imagined such a scene would look more natural in the Summer Court.

But then I spotted the displays of copulation and other acts that no one, save for the participants, should be privy to and the illusion of paradise was shattered. I looked away, mortified for the fae, both female and male, some costumed, some bare as the day they were born, some being treated viciously, and all of them being used by others—lords of the kingdom, judging by their dress.

I enjoyed sex, but this? It made me uncomfortable and furious. It was wrong.

When the king, surrounded by female fae of all races and various stages of dress, called for our attention, I had to push my emotions to the side. I needed to remain sharp and think of us, our futures, our lives.

“Majesty.” Roar approached the king first and knelt.

I came next, standing slightly behind the warden, and curtsied. The act felt preposterous in a place of such depravity. “Your Majesty.”

“Yes, yes. Rise.” When the king spoke, the reek of wine washed over me. Stars, how much had he downed since the tourney?

We stood together.

“You called, my king?” Roar met King Magnus in the eye, even when a female fae with scaled arms sat in his lap and pressed her lips to the king’s jaw, trailing kisses upward. Another of her race stood behind him, rubbing his shoulders. The other two fae, both faeries, lounged at his sides, breasts bare and bodies clad in outfits that covered practically nothing.

“Leave me, my lovelies. I wish to speak with the warden and his lady alone.”

Pouting, the scaled fae slipped off the king’s lap. The other three slinked off with more grace, leaving us alone with the king.

He didn’t even straighten, just clapped two hands together, as if this was a normal meeting. “I wish to thank you for your service today, Lord Roar. For taking that arrow meant for me.”

Roar inclined his head. “Any loyal servant would, my king.”

“The attackers have been in the dungeons since the attack. They’re rebel forces, and one admitted to targeting me and my family.” King Magnus cleared his throat. “You’ve done your kingdom and your king a great service. I always acknowledge those who have served me well.”

Roar shifted. Had the circumstances been different, he might have questioned such a claim. He felt slighted by the king, the fae who expected House Lisika to provide soldiers whenever the crown wished and taxed Roar’s people the same as the rest of the kingdom, despite their sacrifices. The king had not even visited the West since Roar’s parents perished; a slight known by all in the kingdom.

“I know how to repay you.” The king’s eyes, a startling icy shade of blue that held none of the warmth Saga’s did, shifted to me. “I will not stand in the way of your betrothal. I will not arrange a different engagement for you, as I intended to do. You and Lady Neve may wed and even announce your intent before the Crown and the Grand Staret of Avaldenn at the opening of the Courting Festival. An honor, as you know, Warden.”

I’d met High Staret Celi, but I hadn’t realized that the royal house gave the leading staret of Avaldenn an extra special title. I suspected that made him the leaders of all holy fae.

For the first time since we’d arrived, Roar smiled. “Thank you, my king.”

“However . . .” King Magnus held up his hand, calloused and red, cracked from the cold. “You will remain for the duration of the Courting Festival.”

“But why, my king?” Roar frowned. “If we have your blessing, there is no reason to be here.”

Or get me out of the Winter’s Realm.

“The Courting Festival is not only to make matches but to bring together the lords and ladies of the land. Your fiancée will do well to remain here. As will you.” The king rose, stretched, strutted to a nearby table, and poured himself a glass of wine.

As he poured, I shot Roar a glance. Could we fight it? Was it worth it?

Roar shook his head, and I frowned. Fine. I wouldn’t press. Not now, anyway. It grew late, and even if we could leave, we wouldn’t do so tonight. Roar’s troops and the few servants he’d brought to attend us on the return journey west were scattered throughout Avaldenn, probably already tucked in their beds.

But I still had questions.