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“By your leave, Your Majesty,” Gawayn interjected, keeping either Lyrena or myself from doing or saying something rash.

I felt my legs move beneath me, some part of my brain moving my body to function when I could hardly drag in the next breath.

The crowd of courtiers in the assembly chamber parted instantly to make way for us—further proof the hate seething off of me was a secret to no one. Hate seemed to be the only emotion I could feel.

I preferred the apathy.

Two palace guards opened the door to the council chamber. Gawayn and Lyrena took their spots, sealing the room behind them. Without pausing, I grabbed a bottle of wine from the sideboard and stalked to the head of the table to say my pretty bit of fluff and begin the meeting.

But the words died on my lips.

The glass bottle shattered in my hand, deep burgundy wine staining the front of my gown and covering the floor.

Sitting at the other end of the table, directly across from Arthur’s throne, was the Brutal Prince.

20

ARRAN

Clumsy as well as late.

My betrothed’s list of flaws was growing by the hour.

“Are you well, Your Majesty?” The stately dark-skinned female seated about halfway down the table asked.

She wore her black hair in braids similar to Gwen, but much smaller, and then braided together in the more intricate multi-stranded plait that all the other females of the elemental court wore. Diamond clips studded the long plait. They also dripped from her ears, around her neck, gleamed at her wrist. Whoever this elemental was, she was important.

There was also no doubt of her gifts—someone dressed so obviously wanted everyone to know that she possessed ice magic. A lot of it.

“I am fine, Councilor Roksana,” Veyka bit out, her voice edged in ice.

Perhaps that was the magic she was so keen to keep a mystery. If she had such a powerful ice-gifted elemental on her royal council, and her own gifts were minimal, it could be another reason she chose not to demonstrate.

“I did not expect the Brutal Prince to join us today,” Veyka said, bending to pick up the shards of glass herself.

Before she could reach the floor, two servants rushed forward to clear it away instead. Annoyance flickered in Veyka’s eyes, but she stepped away and allowed them.

“I invited him,” the female called Esa said. She stood behind her seat. We all stood, waiting for Veyka to call the meeting to order.

Not the entire truth—typical elemental posturing. I’d sent Osheen to the female who’d introduced herself as thedonnaof Veyka’s royal council, with orders to bring her to me. She’d tried to demur—using this meeting as an excuse. The invitation to join had only come when I offered to reschedule it entirely.

I was already sick of this. How had Uther Pendragon—a powerful terrestrial from the Spine itself—managed for 300 years?

I’d been here a week, and I was ready to shift into beast form and disappear into the mountains.

“How industrious of you,” Veyka said.

For a moment, her eyes glanced down at the gem marking her seat at the head of the stately table.

Amorite. An interesting choice. Each seat was marked with a gem—typical of the opulence of the elementals. Esa had explained when I arrived that I must convey my request for my own seat, at the opposite end from Veyka. For now, the stone before me was empty and smooth.

Veyka let out a very slow, measured breath.

With that, the nonchalance that I’d glimpsed earlier snapped back into place. She cast her eyes beyond the table of councilors to the goldstone wall above my head. “I call this meeting of the Royal Council of the Elemental Court to order.”

All the challenge and argument, the anger that had flashed in her eyes upon seeing me sitting at the end of the table, all of it was gone. I half expected her to melt into the stately throne-like chair in front of her, the energy of her rage snuffed out.

But instead of taking the seat with the amorite before it, she walked back to the sideboard and selected another bottle of wine. I watched with horror as she filled not her own glass, but Esa’s.