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As if I needed reminding. My eyes drifted southward, to the Blasted Pass. There were very few ways in and out of the Effren Valley. Coming from the Kingdom of the Terrestrial Fae, there was only one possibility for the terrestrial delegation.

“It will be months until the Joining,” I said mildly. By which point, I planned to be gone, my mission accomplished.

Parys scoffed, his apple nothing but a core. He chucked it over the edge of my balcony carelessly. My heart pulled at the memory.

No—I reminded it sternly. Dead things cannot feel.

He stretched again, arms overhead, using the motion to glance from side to side and quickly survey the surrounding balconies populated with other members of the elemental court breaking their fast or already drinking aural. I knew canty Parys was filing all his observations away for later. He would make a good royal councilor, someday.

Hopefully the Brutal Prince would recognize his value.

Then the clever bastard turned his eyes on me. “I do not relish finding out how the Brutal Prince feels about finding an interloper in his betrothed’s bed.”

“I never took you for a coward, Parys,” I said with a sigh, letting the hand that held the half-finished apple drop to my side.

I was not as naked as Parys, but not far off. The gossamer dressing gown I wore was little more than a wide strip of iridescent violet fabric with a hole cut out for the head. I knew that from the other balconies adorning the eastern side of the goldstone palace, my courtiers’ sharp fae eyes could see the rounded curves of my hips where the fabric failed to contain my generous figure.

But if I did not care that the court knew I was bedding Parys, I certainly was not bothered if they saw my partially clothed body. I’d belonged to them since the moment of my conception. Queen of the Elemental Fae I might be, but nothing in this realm was truly, individually mine.

“I’d rather be a coward than be dead,” Parys said, casually striding back into the bedroom and toeing around the bedsheets in search of his tunic.

I watched him dress, no desire or interest rousing in my body. This thing between us, it wasn’t love or even lust. It was desperation, both of us driven by the voids in our chests.

But knowing the keenness of his fae hearing, lacking his wind power to shield myself, I waited until he disappeared into the bathing room before I murmured, “That is how you and I are different, my friend.”

6

VEYKA

“There are reports of birds circling the mountain,” Gawayn said, face stern.

“Birds,” I repeated, biting my lip to keep from scoffing aloud. “And you’ve come to me with this report because…”

“They could be terrestrials,” he bit out.

I knew that, of course. The implication was as clear as day. But that did not make torturing him any less fun.

Was it still called fun if you felt no joy in your belly? I teased Gawayn out of habit, now. Because during those first few weeks, when I could barely rise from my bed, I hadn’t liked the version of him I saw then. So I forced myself to jest and joke, so that even if I was clearly broken, at least they weren’t all trying to suffocate me.

“Do you think the Brutal Prince is among them?” Charis said, voice brimming with awe and excitement.

“He doesn’t take the form of a bird, Charis,” Carly said disdainfully, nudging aside her sister’s hand so she could take over plaiting my hair.

“You do not know what form he takes,” Charis scoffed back, reaching for the braid herself. Her sister swatted her hand away.

When the third sister appeared, Gawayn sighed audibly.

“Your Majesty,” he said, pointedly ignoring the copper-haired eldest of my three handmaidens. “The terrestrials will arrive imminently. But if they are circling like common carrion birds, we need to know why.”

“They are probably just scouts,” Cyara said, holding up two long jeweled strands, one diamond and one opal, for me to choose between.

I shrugged, eliciting a little mewl of displeasure from Carly, still at work on the intricate plait. When I was a child, there had been no one to ornately plait my hair. I’d dreamed of an army of handmaidens. As an adult, I’d learned three was more than enough.

They were older than me, though one would hardly know it. All in the vicinity of fifty years old, they were still young to have earned places at court. But I enjoyed them—as much as I could enjoy anything. Mostly I found the way they annoyed my Goldstones into relaxing their guard to be useful to my purposes.

“I am certain they are scouts,” Gawayn agreed tersely. “But if they are spying on us, then we need to be spying on them.”

“They are a party of goodwill, come to make Annwyn whole once again,” Cyara argued, handing over the opals to her sister. “Spying on them sets the wrong tone.”