Page 46

The wine flashes Taroh in my mind, the taste of it on my flesh, the stink of it searing my nostrils as he tries to force himself on me in the gardens of the High Court.

I blink away the intrusive memory.

Eamon sips from the chalice. “I know of some bridges in the Midlands.”

Bridges to take us to the human lands.

And there it is.

The offer laid bare on the table, the possible trip that no one exactly specifies. Now those embers of thought, of possibility, lift into something of a tender flame.

Daxeel is quick to snuff it out. “No more talk of it.”

Aleana huffs and throws him a dark glare. “You forget brother, I do not need your permission. You have the power to stop Nari from being my companion,” and she sinks into her seat, a smirk curving over her pale, chapped lips, “but not to stop Eamon from escorting me. I am a free fae.”

It’s a difficult thing to watch Daxeel but not quite look at him. So I stare at the corner of the room, where he’s just in the edge of my sight, and I can see his eyes darkening into pots of ink.

His answer is a low grumble, a warning that chills my spine in slow, gradual prickles, “I very much have that power Aleana—and test me again, you’ll see how far I’ll go to stop you from leaving this house.”

My mouth puckers out in quiet annoyance.

But Aleana doesn’t back down. Her gaze is unyielding in its aim across the table. “As far as father goes to control mother?”

I stiffen.

Instinct bolts through me like a stray strand of lightning, and if I move, I’ll be noticed—noticed as an intruder on a private family matter I don’t belong in.

Eamon and Rune have similar ideas.

They don’t freeze as I do, but their movements are softer.

Rune’s mouthful of broth-soaked potato is a gentle chew.

Eamon hovers the chalice near his lips but doesn’t sip.

“Or,” Aleana adds with a vile smirk, “as far as you go to keep Nari trapped?”

She might as well point her finger at him and shout her accusation for all to hear,‘Are you just like father?’

I don’t breathe.

My chest is swollen with a half-breath trapped inside of me. It aches to release, burns my insides, but I stay as still as a statue in the gardens of the High Court.

Dare surprises me.

Unlike the rest of us, he doesn’t pretend he’s not here, doesn’t avoid his intrusion. He drinks back the last of his coffee, then sets the mug down with an intentional thud—one that cracks the hooked stares of Daxeel and Aleana.

Dare sighs.

The sound is silk drifting over a tender breeze. “Let her venture.” He cuts his gleaming golden gaze to Daxeel’s smouldering one. “While she can.”

My eyes widen a touch.

‘While she can.’

It’s not something we speak of so loudly, so blatantly. Especially not when Aleana is in the room with us.

Aleana’s worsening sickness is as taboo here as the topic of Daxeel is with my father. And if I had any doubts of her nearing death, then Dare just wiped them out of my head in a heartbeat.