Page 63

LYSANDER

Isearch out Bear after his rope demo on a Sunday, nerves making my stomach flutter. He’s drinking alone at the edge of the room, away from the open play areas, and I make my way over. I slip into the chair across from him and his brows draw down — it’s just the face he makes when he’s thinking, not because he’s angry to see me.

I think.

“Are you done for the night?” I ask tentatively, my eyes going to the glass of amber liquid.

“Non-alcoholic,” he grunts. “But yeah. I like public play to teach, or to show off. For fun, though? Nah. For me, that shit is private.”

I nod. I don’t actually know much about Bear, except that, like me, he’s the son of a king. We were always careful to keep it professional. What he’s saying is what I feel, too — I didn’t mind doing the show, because it helped me a lot. But with Ezra, I want what we have to stay between us. It’s not for display.

“You didn’t come to ask me about my kink life.” Bear’s blazing eyes pin me.

I hesitate. Bear is technically my peer, but in all ways, I feel lesser compared to him. He’s confident, capable, and doeswhat he wants. As a dragonlord and potential heir to his father’s throne he should have long since settled down with a mate who could give him heirs, but instead he runs a kink shop and seems completely uninterested in relationships. And he still manages to project more poise and authority than me.

I don’t want tobehim, exactly, but a little of his courage wouldn’t go amiss.

“I’ve been thinking about the Crossing,” I finally admit. “I wonder if I was too hasty in turning Syril down. Stars willing, I’ll never be heir to the throne, but that doesn’t mean…"

“What, that you can’t feed into the meaningless parade of a king’s ceremonial duties?” Bear snorts. “Caution and humility are traits no king of monsters has, so you can be sure you’ll never feel the weight of the crown. Best to stay far away, that’s my opinion.”

The backhanded compliment surprises me. I frown at the table.

“Syril thinks it would be good for the community spirit. It’s such a long-standing tradition for us royals to cross with the rest.”

“Tradition.” The venom behind the word makes me look up. His lips peel back from those ferocious fangs. “Yes. A tradition my father hasn’t cared to attend for years, nor even to send anyone in his stead. Syril asked me himself. I said no — I’m not my father’s stand-in. With the shadowfey opting out of joint affairs and Lord Regent Aryllix permanently in mourning, that leaves no true royals to join in. I can’t imagine why you’d feel obligated.”

I’d forgotten that ours wasn’t the only family to be struck by tragedy. Twenty years ago the lamia king died in a human attack — not azeroths but regular humans. His brother, Lord Regent Aryllix, raised his young nephew to take the throne, but a few years ago Prince Talwyn disappeared. Lord Regent Aryllixwithdrew from the world to mourn and hasn’t been seen outside the palace since.

No one would expect him to emerge just to participate in a festival. Still… after the King’s Oath I don’t know if hiding away is what I want anymore.

“I want to do what’s best for the wildlings — and all of Greenriver’s monsters. But I don’t know if such a small thing would even make a difference.”

Bear sighs shortly. “If you want to join the Crossing, you should. It will make Syril happy, and they’re the only thing holding this community together. Without them we’d split off into our kingdoms and go back to squabbling for another five hundred years.”

Strangely, Bear’s admission that he also turned Syril down makes me feel better. If I were meeting three royals on the lake, I’d feel like a fraud. This way, I can pretend I’mnotjust there because my whole family is dead or missing. In the privacy of my head, I can even pretend I’m not a prince — just another monster.

One day I might have to take a path that leads away from Greenriver. Not long ago I looked forward to the possibility, and now I dread it. Before that day comes, whynottake hold of this new life I’ve been given? I can reach for things I never thought would be mine — allies, mentors, and community.

Friends.

While our small family moved from house to house, hiding like mice from the azeroths’ cruel talons, I shamefully dreamt of a different life: a warm, bustling home, filled with people more interesting than I, companions for my mother, friends and helpmates for my sister. In my delusion I would make outfits fit for each monster’s personality: brash, shy, sweet, any temperament under the sun, and I’d put them on and wonder what it would be like to be someone other than myself. Plain,awkward, retiring Lysander. Lysander whose mother barely talks to him and whose sister is too busy learning to be a warrior to be his friend.

No one seems to care that I’m boring and awkward now, and I can’t help feeling it’s because of Ezra. Maybe Syril was right all along. To thrive, we need to open ourselves to change.

And maybe I can be part of that change.

I come downstairs early the next day intending to talk to Syril, but a ruckus at the bottom of the stairs catches my ear. A faun is trying to get past Orion into the hall, bouncing impatiently on their delicate hooves. Orion’s shadows stretch across the floor, blocking them. It’s horribly impolite to step over a shadowfey’s extremities, but the faun keeps darting forward as if he’s going to do it anyway.

“It’s important!” he barks shrilly, and I wince. An angry faun is not to be trifled with — they might seem sweet, but they can be fierce.

“I can’t just let you up there,” Orion replies.

“What’s the matter?” I call. Normally I’d slip away from a conflict, but this morning I’m infused with courage.

The faun peers around Orion and I recognize him with a start. It’s Aster, Maddox’s assistant.

“Your Highness!” Aster bows hurriedly, his ears pointing straight out in distress. “I saw a missive from the riiga. It’s Her Highness, Princess Elsabeth — there’s been a sighting!”