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Slippery, slippery woman. Her words are not quite an insult, but they’re phrased so that they toe that line.

I give her a slow smile. “You are too kind.” This is the first time I’ve spoken directly to her, and the room goes quiet as they listen to my harmonic voice.

Mara waves over some of her people. “Please show the king and his consort to their rooms,” she orders them, not bothering to let the Green Man greet us. To me and Des, she says, “The feast begins in an hour in the Sacred Gardens. I look forward to seeing you both there.”

Chapter 21

The two of us stand inside our guest suite, finally alone. Nearly every surface around us is covered with flowering plants. They grow from pots, they wreath the walls, and they hang from the ceilings. The smell of them is almost too powerful.

The suite itself is alive, situated inside one of the colossal trees that ring the castle. Above and below us are more rooms, where Temper, Malaki, and the rest of our group are staying.

My skin dims as I force the siren back to her watery depths before locking her away. I rub my arms, remembering the siren’s egotistical, screwed-up thoughts.

Des raises an eyebrow. “I still owe her,” he says.

And my siren still plans on pillaging the promised sexual favors from him. “She’ll be back to collect from you at some point.” I run my hands through my hair, reclaiming my body. “Why did you want the siren out?”

“Fairies are always aware of power dynamics,” Des says, folding his arms as he leans against a side table. “I wanted Mara to meet you at your wickedest.”

And who better to pit her against than my siren?

I let out a shaky breath. We’re not even an hour into the visit and already I’m being sized up.

This is my welcome to Solstice. Let the festivities begin.

***

By the time we make it to the Sacred Gardens, the sky is dark, and I feel more like myself.

“Sacred Gardens,” I murmur as we walk under a flowering trellis and enter the wooded clearing. “That sounds like something teenage me would call my vagina.”

Next to me, Des smirks. “Undoubtedly, cherub.” His eyes turn a little sad, and I wonder if, like me, he’s thinking about all the time we missed together between then and now.

As soon as we enter the garden, which isn’t so much a garden as it is a flowering meadow surrounded by hedges and trees, the crowd’s attention moves to us. A sea of strange faces stares back at me and Des, and there are only two I recognize—Temper’s and Malaki’s. The two must’ve arrived here shortly before we did.

Des leads me deeper into the Sacred Garden. The area is lit by dancing fairy lights and several bonfires. Out here it smells like jasmine and smoke, and as the fire hisses and burns, the scent drifts into the star-filled sky above.

Des leans into me, his breath tickling my ear. “It would behoove you to know—”

“Did you just say ‘behoove’?” I interrupt him. “How old are you, eight hundred?”

“—that as King of the Night,” he continues without missing a beat, “I’m expected to help lead this evening’s festivities, and as my mate, you’re expected to be at my side.”

“Because I have so many other places to be,” I say. I catch sight of a giant urn of fairy wine. Stop numero uno once the party begins.

Des’s eyes brighten, his lips curving into a pleased smile. “Word of warning, cherub: sass is a turn-on, so if you expect me to keep my hands off you and your precious beads, you might want to work on being pleasant.”

I raise an eyebrow. “If you think I’m going to be some docile, agreeable girlfriend, you’re—”

Before I can finish, an invisible hand pushes me forward into Des’s arms. He still has that smug-ass smile on his face. “Mateis the correct term,” he says, his voice pitched seductively low. “I’m not your”—he makes a face—“boyfriend. I’m neither a boy nor particularly friendly.” He ends his little speech by kissing me on the nose.

I realize the mistake I made only once Des’s lingering hands finally release me. He baited medeliberately, knowing I’d mouth off to him and he’d get his opening to pull me close.

Wily man.

I glance around us. The spit of the flames and the glow of the flickering lights play with my vision. Now fairies are flashing us sweet smiles; now they’re leering at us suggestively.

The whole thing is discomfiting, like Des and I are some drama unfolding purely for their pleasure.