Page 91

I frowned. “Where are Charis and Carly?”

The corner of her mouth twitched. “They will be along shortly.”

I found myself turning in my chair, looking at the door that led to their chambers. “Are they ill? Stop troubling with me and call a healer.”

Cyara straightened, brushing her hands off on her white, flowing dress. Somehow, it remained unstained with soot. That smile that had played across her face was even more evident now.

“They suffer from nothing but their own foolishness.”

Parys huffed a sympathetic laugh. “Too much aural?”

“No,” Cyara shook her head. “They are rather embarrassed to look Her Majesty in the eye after last night’s events.”

I choked on my pastry, delicate flakes of buttery sweetness lodging themselves in my throat. Parys pounded me on the back, but I waved him away, coughing my way across the room and out on to the balcony. I’d never been embarrassed by my own sexuality. I’d certainly never thought twice about my handmaidens—or even my guards—overhearing my fucking with Parys.

I wasn’t embarrassed about being overheard with Arran, exactly. But somehow, it felt different. Private.

Except that now the notion of fucking Arran with an audience had entered my mind. And that lust I’d thought so thoroughly slaked? It was raging hot and wet between my legs.

I coughed again, swallowing down the last painful dregs of what had been a perfectly delicious croissant.

Parys took a very loud bite of apple. “I thought I smelled another male’s scent in the air,” he said around his chewing. “For your sake, I hope it was your betrothed and not some other—”

He dodged the vase, but only just.

Cyara had taken to grinding tea at the little table in the corner, her smirking smile hidden from view. But if the twitch of her delicate feathered wings was any indication, it was still there.

“My sisters are foolish and young,” she said. I refrained from reminding her that both Charis and Carly were at least twice my age. “Pay them no attention. If they do not come out here soon, I shall make them do the washing alone for the next week!” she said loudly in the direction of their closed door.

I drifted back toward the table. Parys offered another croissant, smirking. I swatted his hand away and reached for water instead. I gulped it down, trying to cool the heat that had suffused my body.

“You received a message this morning with your meal,” Cyara said, snapping her fingers. The flame beneath the tea-kettle sprung to life.

My stomach tightened. My mother was determined to torture me even—

“It is from Councilor Roksana, renewing her invitation to dine with her any evening that is convenient to you,” Cyara repeated, using words I could easily imagine Roksana herself saying.

My habitual response rose to my mouth, but my teeth caught my lower lip at the last moment. Esa’s desire for power was out of control. The receiving of petitioners the day before had made that abundantly clear. She would be loath to give up control of the council when the time came.

It didn’t really matter to me. Once Arthur was avenged, I would leave. That had always been the plan, half-formed in the back of my mind. But now that Arran was here, with all his proselytizing about peace and duty, there was no need to hide the truth from myself.

A fae queen with no powers could not hold Annwyn. Not even with the Brutal Prince at my side as king. It would tear the kingdom apart. Any children I bore would be threats, my own deficit of magic tainting the bloodline forevermore. There were few things that mattered more to the Elementals than bloodline. Perhaps it meant that a Pendragon would never again sit the throne.

But with me gone, Arran at least stood a chance.

If he could wrest power from Esa.

Which meant I needed to start bringing her to heel now.

Slowly, I set the empty water cup down on the table with the rest of the forgotten meal.

“I accept her invitation.”

This time, it was Parys who choked.

I pounded him heartily on the back, refilling my cup with water and handing it to him. His eyes were wide as he drank, but for once he said nothing.

Cyara’s face had flattened, the little smile gone, replaced by the unreadable elemental mask worn by so many of my court.