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She dropped hard to one knee, the illusion shattering, light bending, folding in on itself until she appeared, staggered and exposed.

She tried to bring her foil back up—too slow. Talya was already there. The tip of her blade kissed Aimee’s throat.

And as she leaned in, there was an edge to her now. A promise of violence in the hush.

“He’smine,” Talya said, voice like flint. “And if I catch you sniffing around, I will come for you. Nod if you understand.”

Every muscle in Aimee’s body quivered with fury, barely held in check. She swallowed hard. Then she nodded. The movement dragged skin against steel, and a single bead of crimson broke free and rolled down her neck.

First blood.

Talya’s smile was all teeth. “I win.Again. But hey, thanks for the warm-up.” Fishing the remote out of her pocket, she clicked back on the music. “Better luck tomorrow.”

But the words were lost beneath the sound of wailing guitars, discordant drumbeats, and garbled human gibberish—as was Aimee’s furious scream.

Chapter 20

“Ah. Taly.”

Taly stood at Ivain’s study window, watching Calcifer and Marshmallow chase each other below. The first was a slightly larger version of the second with ears that were more bat-like than anything resembling a rabbit. She let her gaze linger a second longer before shifting to Ivain as he swept into the room.

His coat was half-buttoned. He wore a scowl, though it softened when he saw her. One hand clutched a cup of tea—most likely not the first of the day—the other, a haphazard array of papers that he unceremoniously dumped onto his already cluttered desk.

Taly’s fingers twitched, desperate to bring order. She gave in to the impulse.

“Did you need something?” Ivain asked, more clipped than usual, though it wasn’t aimed at her.

“You wanted to see me,” she reminded him, assessing the sprawl of chaos before her—papers stacked at precarious angles, quills abandoned mid-stroke, and what looked suspiciously like crumbs near the edge.

“I did?”

“Yes,” she said, digging into the easiest task first. Capping the ink bottles. “At breakfast, you said, ‘Come find me in my office later.’ It’s later.”

“Oh, uh…”

“I can come back.”

“No, no. Just give me a moment to find my bearings.”

The meeting with the other noble houses and city leaders must not have gone well. His movements were sharp, restrained—a man trying to keep his frustration from spilling over.

“That bad?” she asked.

Ivain snorted as he shrugged out of his coat, tossing it onto the nearest chair. “Worse. I’ve just spent two hours listening to a room full of grown adults argue themselves in circles. Half of them think the Dawn Court will swoop in like Shards-damned saviors, which, as you can imagine, makes discussions on how to ration bread somewhat difficult. After all, why cut back when, any day now, the Fey will descend from the heavens and make it all better? If I didn’t know better, I’d swear some of those fools want us to sit here and die.”

“And what did you tell them?”

“What do you think?” he snapped, then caught himself, dragging a hand down his face. “Sorry, little one. Not your fault. You know, I shouldn’t even be bothering you with this. You’re still recovering.”

“No,” Taly said quickly. Ivain eyed her. “I mean, please. I’m interested.”

She wasn’t on bedrest. Aiden had said she could move around, as long as she listened to her body. But the rest of the household was apparently under a different directive. No one would give her a task. She’d asked Sarina, currently drowning in the demands of keeping public morale intact—organizing food distributions, soothing tempers, and making sure the people didn’t lose hope. And still, all Taly had gotten was a gentle smile, a pat on the hand, and three words she was starting to hate.

Get some rest.

She’d asked the maids next, but it was the same.

She’d asked the stable hands, only to find out they’d been instructed now to shoo her away if she so much as looked at a shovel.