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The fairies laughed again in a chorus. And then, when the bowl was finally empty and Lily collapsed, holding tight to her stomach and fighting a rush of nausea, her toes began to curl and flex as she got the sudden urge to dance. It was the last clear thought that was still her own.

It went on for hours.

Then it went on for days.

She lost track of how long it all went on for; the eating, the dancing, the wavering songs, the teetering room, the voices, the laughs. But at some point amidst the blurs of music and feasting and twirling, she noticed the daily pattern of a golden sun rising, followed by a burning sunset casting light across the floor—her only indication of passing time.

But eventually, Lily was hardly able to see anything. The room spun even when she stood still. She teetered when she tried to stand straight and could never find her footing. She wanted to sleep more than anything. There were points where she was sure she was in and out of dreams, not fully awake but not actually sleeping either.

“Tie her with ribbons, put a wreath on her head, and sprinkle her with glitter!” The voice slipped through the haze and planted itself upon Lily’s consciousness. “Let’s prepare our peace offering.”

Cold hands took Lily’s arms and legs. There was a time when she might have kicked or screamed in a situation like this. But she hardly recalled her own name anymore, let alone how to fight. The only things that reminded her of who she was were the pictures depicted on her arms in ink. Sometimes she would look at those tattoos or read the names hidden within them, and she would manage to catch a thought through the haze, recalling a part of a story she was pretty sure was hers. But most days, she only knew food and dancing.

There was one exception. Somehow, she remembered Shayne’s name. Every time she saw white hair and blue eyes in her blurry vision, she hoped it was him.

It was never him.

22

Shayne Lyro and the House of Riothin

He wasn’t dead yet.

It was likely only a matter of time.

Shayne twirled a gold spoon in his glass of citrus, watching the fruity liquid move to the rhythm of the loud tune pulsing from the band working a variety of instruments Shayne wanted to smash. They weren’t bad at playing their harps and lyres and beast skin drums, but the noise had a particular magical edge to it Shayne guessed was meant to pleasure Riothin’s true allies and repulse his secret enemies throughout the room.

Shayne hadn’t considered himself Lord Riothin’s secret enemy at first. In fact, he’d come in sincerity to make an alliance. But he realized rather quickly that the House of Riothin was completely designed to weed out traitors or anyone with secrets or ulterior motives.

Shayne was probably all three of those things.

The scents of the House riled him. The water he used for bathing was ice cold to him. The music sounded sharp in his faeborn ears. And yet, he had to pretend through it all that he wasn’t having problems with the smells, the water, or the music, lest he be figured out and dragged before the Lord in cold iron shackles.

It was a true Yule tidings miracle he hadn’t been snapped in half the moment he reached the front gate seven days ago, smacked his fist against the great House doors to knock, and started loudly calling for the revered High Lord. If anyone apart from Meave Riothin had arrived at the gate and laid eyes upon him first, he’d certainly be a fairy corpse. But naturally, Meave liked what she saw when the gate was opened and Shayne was standing there, leaning against the stone frame like a god, sweeping a hand through his wool-white hair, and flashing the most delicious smile the female had likely ever seen with her wicked green eyes.

Meave Riothin; the second-eldest daughter of Lord Macewite Riothin. Next in line to be married after her older sister had been sold off in a bargain to form an alliance with one of the thirteen Low Princes of the South. In return, her father had been given a powerful army to wield in the South Corner, should he ever need it.

Meave was an easy target. The female was practically begging to be rebellious. Marrying the enemy was at the top of her ‘to do’ list in the foreseeable future.

That part had been easy. It was everything after that became difficult to bear. And it wasn’t just the House repelling him with its natural safeguards and fairy charms, it was the people inside it, too.

Shayne stopped stirring his citrus and placed his spoon on the table. He leaned back in his chair and watched the dancing filling the room, right to the tall windows where fairies who passed by were meant to see the fun those in the House were having and grow envious.

A warm elftouch traced along the back of his shoulders. He pretended not to notice it.

Unfortunately, it happened again.

Shayne sighed. He turned in his seat and searched the sitting area for Meave. He found her watching him with a puffy-lipped smile. He gave her a cute little wave and winked. Then he begged the sky deities to keep her from coming over and asking him to dance. The dance floor was probably covered in tiles that would make the secret-keeping enemies of Riothin feel itchy and hot or some other atrocity.

He turned back to his citrus but found a noisy, nasty, black-haired menace instead.

Cosmo Flora sat across from him at the table. The fairy looked relaxed with one arm slung over the backrest of the chair beside him, which was remarkable considering Shayne had only been turned around for a second and Cosmo looked like he’d been in that casual position for a hundred thousand years. The gold-braided wreath atop his head was crooked in an intentional, stylish way, and his picturesque, sultry smile made Shayne shiver in extra disgust.

Also, Cosmo was a heartless forest hog, and Shayne wished he could feed him bread in his sleep.

But Shayne smiled instead. Because only a perfect face with a perfect smile was weapon enough to stand up to the sultry smile of a heartless forest hog.

Cosmo reached for a cream-nut from a nearby dish. Not to eat it, of course, but to roll it around in his fingers like a godless fool.