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They weren’t taking her anywhere out of public eye. “The table is private enough.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” For the first time, the elven king spoke, voice as jagged as chipped ice.

Perhaps he could kill with darkness, but not if his skull was caved in. I flexed my palm, a warning, and he took note. Until his companion rolled her eyes and muttered annoyance at my reservations and her king’s threatening pose.

Adira laughed and introduced herself. Not that I cared, but the elven insisted her name was Ashes, or Flame, or Ember or something that coincided with the color of her hair.

Gwyn joined Adira’s side, soft as a whisper. I kept my attention focused on the shadow king. Cy and Asger took up a position on either shoulder.

More than once, the king dropped his attention from me, to the woman, as though he might fear a threat against her much the same.

We could relate on that for now.

Only once Adira and the elven woman took a place at the table again did we join. Tension stacked heavy as stones, but no one had reached for weapons or magic. Yet.

“You claim Abba sent you, but you didn’t know our names.”

Adira kicked my shin under the table. “Kage.”

“It’s a fair question,” I insisted.

“If you knew anything about the priestess,” grumbled the king, “you know this is hardly out of character for her. But by all means, if you require no assistance . . .”

The elven woman pinned him with a sharp gaze, insisting she somehow knew she’d been sent here for Adira’s sake.

“I do want to help, and frankly, your fake ears,” she said, glancing at me. “won’t do you any favors here. Not when you look like you’re from the wrong court.”

“What did I say?” Cy hissed under his breath and ripped off the clay points.

With careful words, Adira revealed bits and pieces of the trouble facing Magiaria. The more she gave up pieces of the degeneration, the more her body stiffened, the more her words cracked.

I slid my palm over her thigh and squeezed gently.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re here,” the shadow king said, voice tight, when Adira spoke of the unknowns placing my mother and father into their sleep.

“We need something we can only get here,” “Adira whispered.

The king scoffed with derision. “There it is.” He glanced at our friends across the table, then back to us. “I presume you had plans to steal it and sneak away?”

He was agitated. I readied to toss Adira from the table and stand between them again should he strike, but my Wildling had other reckless plans.

Spine straight, Adira held the king’s dark gaze without bending. “You should assume I’ll do whatever it takes to break this curse.”

There was meaning in each word. An underlying vow to keep me living—like she’d always done. Foolish, beautiful woman. Always running toward the fire for my sake. If there was a choice again, if it was her life or mine once more, she would live.

But it would be a battle, for even here in the presence of a formidable king, Adira Ravenwood was declaring there were nolengths, no morals she would not cross for the sake of those she loved.

We needed to end this soon and place sound shields around our corner of the loft so I could show her properly how deeply my heart beat for her alone.

The king did not attack. Truth be told, he almost seemed amused with her response, but it was his companion who spoke next. “What is it you need?”

Adira let out a rough breath and described theanamisiflower mentioned in the spell.

“Remembrance,” said the woman. “The flower of remembrance.”

Adira’s eyes brightened. “You know it?”

The woman wasn’t pleased. “It’s rare.”