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Evander stepped forward, the fabric of his Goldstones attire swirling around him in what I was certain was an icy wind of his own making. When he faced the dais, his expression was solemn. No sneer in sight—for once.

“You will return to the Split Sea with Agravayn and his brothers. End this travesty, or do not come back at all.” Arran’s edict rang out across the throne room, spilling through the open archways.

I expected a challenge, an argument from Evander, whose very arm had been cut off the first time he met the Brutal Prince. But to my utter shock, he sank to one knee.

“Of course,” he said.

I felt like I might vomit.

“You are dismissed,” Arran said to the kneeling male, then lifted his eyes to Gawayn’s trio of brothers. “You as well.”

It was for me, I realized.

Gawayn was my captain, my foremost protector after Arran. Lyrena was the closest thing I had to a friend. But Evander, I could hardly stand to share a room with, even if he was skilled and competent and powerful.

Arran had made this decision forme.

“Your Majesty,” Gawayn stepped forward, his head bowed respectfully. “This will leave a vacancy in your Goldstone Guards.”

“Do you have a replacement in mind, Gawayn?” Arran asked.

“Perhaps—”

“I submit myself, Your Majesty, for consideration.”

My nerves could not take much more. I certainly was not prepared for Guinevere, former heir of the terrestrial fae and slighted future high queen, to step forward and offer herself as one of my personal body guards.

Ancestors, I hadn’t even realized she’d entered the room.

Arran must have, because his eyes glittered with amusement.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “I don’t—”

“Done,” Arran said sharply.

I blinked. Once, twice.

“Gawayn, do you have any objection?” Arran asked, ignoring me once again.

Gawayn shook his head. “None at all, Your Highness.”

“Good. We are done for the day.” Arran was already standing, tugging me to my feet.

I had no desire to fight him now. Guinevere wanted to be a Goldstone Guard? Fine with me. I wanted out of this throne room. I wanted to drown myself in the aural fountains.

I wanted someone to fuck my brains out and then I would sleep for a year.

Anything to avoid the clamoring, clawing emotions eating me alive from the inside out.

“There is one more petitioner,” said a voice from beyond the dais. Not Esa, who’d been bristling to take control all day. But Roksana.

The wizened councilor stepped apart from the others. She looked past Arran directly to me, her eyes full of meaning.

Something in her stance, in the tilt of her chin, filled me with dread.

I slowly turned back to the center of the room to see the crowd parting. A lone figure walked toward me. Shorter than every other being in the room, steps slower and more hesitant. His clothing was rough, dull browns and grays, rips evident. I could smell the scent of his unwashed body from where I stood, my feet unable to move. But it was not the scent of his body odor that kindled rage in my already tumultuous soul. It was the smell of his humanity.

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