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“Did you ever travel to the other kingdoms? Do you know where the Black Syndicate is?” Cyrus asked.

“Do you?” she countered.

“No, but I am not the one who supposedly has friends there.” He took another sip of liquor. Sorin wasn’t sure if he should intervene here or not, so he let Scarlett handle his Court unless she looked to him for help.

Scarlett leaned back against her chair, swirling the last of her wine. Sorin’s arm was draped along the back as it usually was during the dessert portion of the evening.

“Supposedly? You doubt my words, Darling?” Scarlett said with a soft, wicked smile curling up the side of her lips.

“It is incredibly improbable,” Cyrus returned. “Weren’t you living in a noble household? How would you have met people from the Black Syndicate?”

That smile on her lips grew wider, and Sorin watched as a mask slipped over her features.“How didyoubecome the Second to the Prince of Fire? You weren’t born noble.”

The entire table stilled.

Cyrus's face was hard as he held Scarlett’s stare. She merely sipped her wine once more, waiting. “What would you, a Fae princess hidden away in the human lands, know of my history?” he asked too quietly. Sorin tensed at the tone. The violence dancing on the edge of it.

“Down, kitty,” Scarlett purred. “No need to get your claws out.” She took another sip of her wine, clearly unconcerned. “I can smell an orphan from a mile away, Darling. I can tell someone who wasn’t raised by nobility but has found themselves living in such a world of propriety and politics. So tell me, Second of the Fire Court, did you not befriend anyone that could benefit you? That would ensure your survival to see the next sunrise or next meal in your belly?”

Cyrus was utterly still as he surveyed Scarlett with a new understanding. When he did not answer, Scarlett’s tone was hard as she continued, “It seems we have more in common than you thought, hmm?”

“It would appear we do, Darling,” Cyrus finally answered. He raised his glass to her from across the table, and Scarlett inclined her head.

“Do you know the Wraiths then?” Rayner asked quietly.

Scarlett’s eyes slid to him. “Everyone knows of the Wraiths.”

“Yes, but did you ever meet them?” Eliza pressed.

“If I had, would you like me to arrange a meeting?” Scarlett mused, draining her glass.

“Badass women who are feared amongst the entire continent? Yes, I would love to meet them,” Eliza said, a thread of wistfulness in her tone.

“Should I ever see my friends again, I’ll see what I can do,” Scarlett replied, setting her empty glass down. She turned to Sorin. “I’m tired. I’m going to head back early tonight.”

“I will walk you back,” he replied, getting to his feet.

They said good night to the others, and he followed her from the den. They had walked the steps up to their floor in silence and had entered their rooms when he gripped her arm to stop her as she made to move to the bedroom.She turned a questioning glance to him, and he pulled her to him. “Hey, Love.”

The mask was gone, and the corner of her mouth twitched. “Thank you. For not saying anything about…all of that tonight.”

“Your story is not mine to tell,” he answered, his hands sliding down to her waist.

“Sorin, I…” She closed her eyes and huffed out a breath, a stray piece of hair fluttering. He waited, brushing that hair back from her face. She opened her eyes again and met his. “I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve all that you’ve done for me.”

“Who says? Who decides what we deserve? Do I deserve to be touching you right now after all I kept from you?” he countered, voicing the same thoughts he’d said to Rayner earlier that evening.

“I told you that my mother’s death was not your fault,” she argued, her tone hardening a touch.

“Do I deserve such forgiveness?”

“Of course you do. You deserve happiness, Sorin.”

“My Love, so do you. You deserve every happiness.”

He didn’t know how long they stood there, eyes locked on each other, before she rose up onto her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Whether I deserve you or not, Sorin, I’m grateful you came into my life.”

She freed herself from his hold and crossed to the bedroom, presumably to get ready for bed. She did look tired. She wasn’t resting enough as she dove deeper into her magic. He crossed to the hearth, giving her a few minutes of privacy to change and wash up. He stood, watching the flames flicker. He would never cage her. He would never ask her to assume a throne, either as queen or at his side, that she did not want. But he also knew that if she returned to Baylorin to stay, he would follow her there. He would follow her to the farthest star.