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“I know,” he said and flipped back the lid.

Taly’s eyes widened, glancing up at him to be sure. He only nodded.

Because inside, resting on a bed of blue velvet, was a crown. Small and delicate with a diamond dragon roaring through a wild nest of amethyst ribbons, its golden tail swept out and around to form the band.

The Ghislain Dragon. Technically a firedrake, though the human colloquialism had made its way into the common tongue. Every noble house with a presence in Ryme would be sending a representative tonight, and tradition dictated that they wear the mark of their House.

Indeed, he wore the same symbol pinned to his tie. And while it was unusual for humans, even Feseraa, to wear a House’s crest, it would send a message. Signify that she was spoken for by a family with both wealth and power, who had claimed her as one of their own and would defend her as such.

The Fey were not often kind to humans. The women envied the children they’d never bear; the men saw them as objects thatexisted only for their pleasure, easily replaced once broken. And given the news that Ivain had to deliver, some might try to assign blame and seek to hurt him where they thought him weakest. There was no point taking any risk.

Sarina had already ensured that the Fairmont Fox was painted along her collarbones in delicate lines of swirling golden ink. But House Ghislain had more reach, more influence, and he was its heir. Tonight seemed as good as any to start flexing some of that power.

Taly ran a finger along the band, eyes dimming a bit, as if she could read the intent behind the gift.

Silent, she turned. Tossing the box back on the bed, Skye slid the crown over her hair, arranging it so that the dragon scratched and clawed its way across her brow, its tail disappearing into the knot of curls.

When he was done, he rested a hand on her waist, pulling her to him. Together, they stared at their reflection and the image they made.

Him—tall and elegant in the trappings of his rank.

Her—an absolute savage beauty, with her wild hair and clear, human eyes. The dragon glinted on her brow. His symbol.

The Duchess he would’ve chosen if the world were a different place.

“This is going to be bad,” she said, leaning into him. “Isn’t it?”

“No,” he drawled, feeling the curve of her waist. 29 buttons. Damn, they just kept going. “I’m sure the constant threat of death via undead horde has made the nobility into incredibly reasonable, compassionate individuals.”

A single brow lifted. “Want to make a wager?”

“Please,” he huffed and pushed her towards the door. “I already lose enough coin to you during Pytchdrive season.”

Since there were no public buildings in Ryme large enough to house a citywide town hall, Ivain had decided to grow one instead.

People flowed into the North Square, crowding around the entrance of the massive dome of vines that now capped the entire area. Soft, warm light leaked through the gaps in the coils and into the misty gloom.

Just a spot of gardening, he’d been saying all week to anyone that would listen, far too pleased with himself.

Taly finally understood the joke.

Large, woody braziers filled with leaping bonfires grew along the outside of the circular structure. Thick roots anchored the base. Its walls were a living braid of bark, branch, and vine woven into a dome that stretched nearly four stories high. Light leaked from between the coils. Leafy awnings stretched from the upper levels, their broad canopies supported by columns of even more vines. The pillars spiraled like muscle, taut and coiled, and their tips unfurled into wide fronds that fanned over the walkways below.

The consideration was evident—how the design had been catered to the people who spent their days here, living and working. Tables and chairs grew outside the storefronts, and there were even spaces for gardens and a covered stage. The sound of water ran throughout, directing the flow of rainwater to feed the structure.

A tunnel of silver ivy formed the entrance, the muffled din of voices tumbling out. Taly couldn’t quite keep the awe off her face as Skye lifted her down from the saddle, helping her maneuver the unwieldy bulk of her dress as she handed Byron to a waiting groom. The others in their party did the same, though only Aimee and Aiden made their way inside, the crowds partingto let them through. Sarina had asked everyone else to stay behind.

“Have you looked inside yet?” Taly asked, going onto her toes to see over the steady flow of people draining into the tunnel.

Skye’s lips curled into a smile, like he knew how much it was killing her. “I helped build it, sooo…yes.”

“Is it amazing?” She’d only seen sketches. Only heard Skye, Ivain, and Aiden talking about it every night for the past week.

Those green eyes glittered. “It’s amazing.”

Oh, hedefinitelyknew it was killing her. Delighted in her agony. But because he had a vested interest now in keeping her happy—that interest being sex and his desire to keep having it—he only waited half the usual amount of time before putting her out of her misery.

Placing his hands on her shoulders, Skye turned her, pointing around the curve of the dome. “There’s a side entrance right over there. If you’re careful, you won’t be seen.”