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I could just make him out in the bright morning sunlight—sprawled out, his limbs hanging off the side of the lounge chair. He was facing away from me, but moving now.

I grabbed for the sheets, dragging them up over my breasts—as if Parys hadn’t seen them a hundred times. Until last night, he’d been my lover.

No, that was not quite right.

He’d been my partner in despair, in release and in escape.

What did that make Arran?

My betrothed. Beyond that, I didn’t dare analyze my feelings. But for once, I didn’t try to shove them into a locked box inside of me either. I doubted there would be any point—Arran would simply rip the box open the next time I saw him.

Parys’ eyes glimmered with wry amusement. “Good idea. I don’t want your Brutal Prince finding me staring at your considerable assets.”

I heard the soft whisper of wood—the door to my handmaiden’s chambers opening, Cyara slipping out. I turned back to Parys.

“Is that why you are sitting all the way over there?”

Parys smiled, and well… he looked damn handsome. I realized I hadn’t seen that genuine smile in a very long time. Not since before Arthur died. I wondered what had conjured it after all these months.

“That, and your lovely handmaidens had not yet laid out breakfast,” he said, extending the grin to Cyara, who’d just re-appeared from the antechamber with a tray laden with pastries and fruit.

“Did you sleep here?” I asked, wondering how he’d gotten in.

Gwen had been guarding my door. She must be still. Arran would never have admitted Parys. But Gwen was just salty enough—especially if the argument I’d heard bits of last night was any indication of the state of things between her and her terrestrial commander. She probably let Parys in hoping that Arran would discover him here.

Parys turned his back as Cyara circled the bed with a dressing robe.

“I came an hour ago. Couldn’t sleep, and the library isn’t open yet,” he said.

I blinked. “The library?”

“You were aware we had one here?” He must have heard the Cyara stepping away, assuming I was dressed, because he cut a line straight to the table of food.

I rolled my eyes, approaching slower but with no less hunger in my stomach. “Of course I was. I was not aware that you frequented the place. Frankly, I’m shocked you find the time. You were quite busy yesterday, whispering your way across the throne room.”

I selected a chocolate croissant. The smell was heavenly. The first bite was better.

“It is one of the few places I can escape the rumors,” Parys said.

The pastry turned heavy in my throat. The rumors he collected, and the ones whispered about him and Arthur.

There was no rule against males loving other males here, not like in the human realm. Sex and love transcended gender and identity, just like magical gifts. But Arthur had been the elemental heir, with a duty to wed and reproduce. In a court built on lies and scheming…Oh, Parys.

I’d never imagined. Just like I’d had no idea what was happening with the missing children.

Guilt snaked through me. As familiar as the anger and thirst for revenge, I realized. Guilt for still being alive when Arthur was dead. Now, guilt that I’d been so fucking selfish. Exactly like Arran said.

Ancestors above and below. It was too early for this.

Parys took a hearty bite of the buttered scone in his hand. But the pain of his words lingered in the air between us.

Cyara watched us as she moved around the bedroom, making the bed, stoking the ever-burning hearth. I could practically feel the weight of her eyes upon me.

“Would you like to join us, Cyara?” I asked.

I could not believe I’d never asked her before. Parys and I gorged ourselves on the finest food that Annwyn had to offer almost daily, and Cyara, Charis, and Carly merely watched. Of course, I knew they were well-fed. No one in the goldstone palace went hungry. Though beyond it… I’d seen some disturbing things while sneaking into the streets of Baylaur.

But Cyara merely flicked her thick copper-colored braid off her shoulder to keep it free of the flames she tended. “No, thank you, Your Majesty.”