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Surprisingly,it’s the Fairy King’s general stepping in to save Myron from himself and remind both kings of the purpose of this meeting. “Keep it together, Myron. You no longer hunt for brides nor demand for any. The bargain is moot. Recienne is no longer your enemy.” He turns to Recienne as if to prove a point. “And you, your Majesty, should remember Myron is not his father.”

Cold calculation infuses every word as Astorian fills his role as Askarean courtier and strategist while Clio scans the Crows, the Flame, and the rebels by the wall like a guard ready to step in should our entourage decide now is the time to let one of their blades fly.

“You’re right. King Myron is not Carius, and this audience isn’t about the past.” Recienne’s words surprise me. I wouldn’t have taken the Fairy King for someone who agrees with anyone—unless it suits him.

His face changes to smooth, beautiful, yet unreadable, all colors of the rainbow dancing over him as he stands from his throne, gesturing to the door we came through. “Take them to the guest quarters. I’m sure they’d like to freshen up before we discuss the situation over a glass of wine and a proper meal.”

Eyes skipping over Myron and me to study Royad, Silas, and Herinor, the Fairy King strolls down the stairs toward the side of the room. “Whatever you think, your blades won’t be of any use should you decide to attack. You’ll need to use your magic, and that won’t be of much use either, now that I know your names.”

He disappears before he reaches the inconspicuous side door near the group, and we all stare wide-eyed at the spot that hosted the Fairy King a moment ago.

“What does he mean by that?” Andraya demands, a bit shaky on her feet in the wake of who they call the most powerful fairy in all of Askarea.

Astorian smooths back his auburn hair, glancing at Clio as if for help. The mask of the general has fallen away, a hint of concern leaking through instead. “He means name control.”

“Name what?” Pouly blurts while a million thoughts are rolling from Kaira’s mind to mine.

“Askarean high fae can execute control over a person through their name. It’s one of the things lower fairies fear most. Butwe’re not lower fairies, are we? Herinor is a Crow, whatever that means for controlling him through his name. I have no idea if Crows can be controlled at all. They aren’t Eherean creatures after all, so different rules might apply to them. Or they might be strong enough to block it. But Ayna… She’s not a Crow. Not really. She can shift and all, but what does that make her? And I’m only part-Flame. I’ve never needed to shield against name control, but it’s possible I’m no better off than Andraya and Pouly. At least I’d have felt it if a fairy had tried to control me through my name. Clio and Tori seem to be of the kind who don’t resort to such terrible measures. At least, not with us.”

She’s definitely not intentionally projecting her thoughts, which means I’m reading them as they leak from her mind. What that means, I don’t have the capacity to analyze right now since Clio is gesturing for us to follow her back to the hallway, and we march after her like a band of misfits in a cage of jewels.

“Name control,” Clio repeats. “Fairies pulling on creatures’ strings like on puppets. It’s one of the most powerful forms of magic, and I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone.” She waits for us to start moving, ready to herd us out the door. “Now, let’s get you all freshened up before we dive back into discussions that don’t do well on an empty stomach.”

We leave the throne room, following Clio down a long corridor, up a set of polished, sparkling stairs, and past carved columns that remind me of Myron’s residence in the seeing forest. Gods, I miss the times when my only worry was whether or not my questions made the Crow King bleed.

As if summoned by my thought, Myron’s gaze snaps to mine, his arm winding around my waist as we trudgeafter the Fairy Princess with more noise than an army of fairies would ever make. There is no point trying to be stealthy when the King of Askarea already knows we’re here.

“Down there. Last door on the left.” Clio gestures at the set of doors lining the hallway we turn into at the top of the stairs. The air tastes of hay and butter croissants, both smells of summer that seem to roam this part of the fairy realm later than even the Plithian Plains.

Andraya and Pouly obediently head in the direction Clio indicates while Silas and Royad make no move to leave our sides, both ready for battle even when they trust Cliophera DePauvre. We’re in enemy territory of a different sort. While in the wilds of the forests, the Crows’ history with the fairies has long stopped conjuring feelings of animosity and distrust, being here in the fairy palace makes my hair stand on the Crows’ behalf. If someone had trapped me in a forest for centuries, I don’t know if I’d ever speak to them again with anything other than my blade.

“We need allies,”Kaira reminds me through our mental connection as she stops a step behind us alongside Herinor. “Twenty Crows and a part-Flame aren’t enough to take on a traitor Crow, the king of Tavras, and his army.”

It goes unsaid that we need to be smart about trusting the rebels. Even with Andraya and Pouly so fiercely on our side, they have different motives from ours. The rebels want to see a Milevishja on the throne while I…

I simply want Ephegos and Erina to pay for what they did to us. If I’ll ever take up the Tavrasian throne remains a whisper between stars.

“There is enough space in there for all of you,” Clio informs us. “Fresh clothes will be provided. I’ll have something sent up for you.” Clio studies Myron, then me, a frown on her face, and shoves her hands into her pockets. “The Queen of Askarea is roughly the same size as you, Ayna.” Her gaze grazes my comparatively tall frame—“Roughly”—and a smile tugs on her lips. “I’ll see you in an hour. Don’t go exploring on your own. Recienne doesn’t take kindly to busybodies, and we all know that’s what you all are.”

Her grin does little to appease the fear gathering in my stomach. She’s still our friend, isn’t she? We haven’t just walked into a trap.

It’s what I tell myself as I follow Silas into the luxurious suite the fairies provided for us, silently wondering if Astorian didn’t join us for a reason. Is he already discussing strategies with his king? Did I trust the wrong person again?

I remember it doesn’t matter whom I trust because, eventually, it doesn’t matter if they consider themselves our friends as long as they consider themselves our allies.

“Ayna,” Clio calls as I step over the threshold.

Myron stops with me, shoving his shoulder between Clio and me in what seems to be a subconscious gesture rather than a proactive attempt at protection. With a hand touching his bicep, I push him aside, clearing my view on the Fairy Princess.

Her eyes sparkle all shades of jade as she throws me a look that might have inspired fear, had I not seen it a hundred times on her during our time at the Crow Palace.

“Clio?” Forcing myself not to fidget under the stare of all of our party, I hold her gaze, willing calm into Myron’s veins so he won’t make a mistake.

“After your king and mine figure out how to not kill each other in an alliance, you and I will work on your magic.” Her words are as surprising as they are shocking.

It’s no secret there is enough tension filling the halls to slice open anyone’s throat, but Clio jumps in, addressing, for the first time since I got my powers back, the subject of actually helping me.

My shoulders sag with relief, and for a heartbeat, I could swear Myron smiles, but when I turn toward him, his expression is as sour as when we left Recienne’s throne room.