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A friend and a lover.

Her first.

Her only.

Taly’s stomach clenched as her fingers continued their exploration. How many times had she imagined this scenario? How many different ways? One kiss and that arrogant bastard had managed to turn her into a raging mess of hormones and lust and… somehow, she didn’t really mind.

He would’ve drawn her into the dance, gently placing his lips to her neck, then her jaw, her mouth. Slow and soft at first but gaining in intensity. Until her lips felt bruised. Until she was aching with a need that was all for him. He would press her against the wall, his hand slipping beneath her skirts—

Taly finally let a finger dip between her thighs, wishing it was Skye’s hand that was touching her, teasing her.

And then—

There was another knock at the door, and Taly started, snatching her hand away. She blinked a few times as the fantasy began to clear and—

Damn,Taly thought, kicking at the edge of the tub. A heady ache still pounded between her thighs, but it would have to wait until later, when she was alone.

Except…

She was never really alone now, was she? Leto was always within earshot, and the fairies, the Queen, Calcifer…

Shards, had she really been here so long now that she had started to miss the solitude of those first few weeks?

Growling softly, Taly fiddled with the controls on the bath until the water turned icy.

By the time Taly dragged herself from the bath, a jeweled blue gown was already laid out on the couch in her dressing room. She could only muster a half-hearted protest as Leto began helping her with the various layers, thankful that the fabric fit her loosely and didn’t require a corset.

Instead of heels, the fairy produced a soft pair of satin slippers, the color a perfect match to the red velvet ribbons woven through her hair. It seemed that since the Queen had begun enforcing daily games of fairy tag, Leto had taken pity on her, dressing her for dinner in clothing that wouldn’t restrict her movement or aggravate any slow-to-heal injuries.

Thank the Shards for small mercies. And Leto.

“You did well today,” Leto said as she finished pinning the folds of the skirt.

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Taly mumbled, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She looked pale, and several blood vessels had burst in her right eye. Coupled with the bruises on her face, the effect was decidedly gruesome. “In fact, Azura said that the only thing I’m getting better at isnotbleeding.”

Leto straightened, eyeing Taly from head to toe and tugging at the fabric. “Her Majesty jests, I’m sure.”

“I’m not.”

Leto hesitated for a moment, considering her words. “You do still struggle with your Sight, but that’s not unusual for young mages. It is a difficult ability to master. It took Her Majesty nearly three centuries to be considered truly proficient.”

“Thank you, Leto.” Taly gave a wan smile before turning to leave the dressing room. Down the hall and into her parlor—her body barked in agony, protesting every step.

“The Queen,” Leto said, following her, “has requested that dinner be served in her private dining room this evening.”

“That’s nice for her.” Taly grabbed a book from a nearby table and carefully eased herself down into an overstuffed chair next to the window. Calcifer jumped up beside her. He had grown considerably, enough that it was getting hard to remember him in his little teacup bed. He was as large as a housecat now, if still a bit gaunt and spindly, and two tufts of vibrant gold fur had sprouted around his still too-large ears and on the tip of his tail. A match to the golden rings thatwere beginning to develop around his icy blue eyes. “You can tell the Queen that I’m not going.”

“But you need to eat, Ma’am. Your aether cannot efficiently recover without adequate nutrition.”

Taly cracked open her book—something about physical time travel and why it was a bad idea. “I don’t care,” she lied, praying that her stomach didn’t growl and give her away. She’d almost depleted her aether that afternoon, and she was well and truly starving.

Taly fidgeted in the chair, trying to get comfortable. Calcifer gave her an irritated mewl. Leto didn’t deserve her moodiness—she knew that. But she was sore and tired, and if the Queen said one more time that she needed to learn to faceplant with a“little more grace,”she might burn the palace to the ground.

Leto dipped her head. “And what would you have me tell Her Majesty?”

“Tell her…” Taly turned the page, scratching behind Calcifer’s ears. “Tell her that I’m protesting stairs.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie. There were far too many sets of stairs between her tower and the West Wing. Maybe if she was lucky, she would muster up the energy to crawl down to the kitchen later that night—after the Queen had retired.