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He flipped it open. “Cheers to your continued good health.”That was it. He turned the page over. “Who’s it from?”

Taly reached down beside the swing and held up a bottle of champagne.

Skye frowned. “I don’t get it.”

“This came with the letter.”

“And?”

“It’s the same champagne Bill served me in the dream.”

Of course, she’d named the enemyBill. Skye couldn’t decide what was worse: the name itself, or the fact that Taly’s idea of diplomacy involved deliberately antagonizing the enemy.

He stared at the bottle. “That could be a coincidence.”

“Look at this.”

She handed it over. The label had delicate, ornate borders with the words Astral White Gold glowing faintly in the center. Beneath it was the location of the vineyard: Domaine de la Sirène, Earth.

The realization sank in slow, like cold iron. And when it did, his stomach twisted.

“This was made by House Arendryl.”

Taly nodded grimly. “He served me my own damn family’s wine, Skye. He knew who I was before I did. He knew about the Earthlung, about… about everything. Andthis—” She took the bottle back, grip tightening. “This is him showing me he also knows exactly where to find me.”

That explained the funk.

Skye hugged her closer, the weight in his chest settling deeper, like that cold iron had never stopped sinking. Aneirin knew where she was.

If he knew where she was, he could take her.

If he took her, she was gone.

If she was gone, then…

He swallowed back the rising panic, years of court training, of learning to mask every emotion, kicking in. His voice came out even, almost flippant. “So, he knows. Doesn’t mean he can do anything about it.”

“That’s what Ivain said too.” Taly took back the cigar, tapping away ash. “He thinks it’s just a taunt. That if Bill could really get to me, he would’ve done it already instead of announcing his intentions.”

It made sense, though not enough to put Skye’s mind entirely at ease.

He kissed her head, breathing in the warmth of her, willing it to push back the cold curling in his chest. “Nothing is going to happen to you,” he murmured. “Not on my watch.”

She eased against him—just a fraction, maybe without even realizing. That trust, that tacit belief, settled deep, bracing something inside him.

It anchored him in a single truth: if she believed he could keep her safe, then he would. Which meant that fear and panic could go to hell.

The rhythmic creak of the swing matched the ebb and flow of their movement. Around them, the sun’s radiance had softened, stars emerging in the deepening sky.

“You know,” she said softly, “I think I missed this the most inside the loop. “At the palace, I always had to be inside before nightfall. I never got to see the stars. Is it weird that I’m almost looking forward to Solnar this year?”

Skye took the cigar she offered. It was little more than a nub now, burning the back of his throat when he inhaled. “Shit, I forgot about Solnar,” he said hoarsely, coughing.

“It’s almost summer. Why did you think it was still so cold?”

“I don’t know. I just assumed the world was conspiring to make my final days as miserable as possible.”

Which, considering this year was Solnar, could still be true.