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“Well, for starters, I thought you’d tell him what happened in that castle.” He began to lead me out of the throne room. “Don’t tell me nothing did. It’s as clear as day.”

“That’s an odd thing to say, coming from you,” I said. “Your days are as far from clear as a day can be.”

“Our world wasn’t always permanently drenched in mist and shadow, Tessa.”

“I’m well aware.”

We strode out of the throne room and drifted into the hallway. He led me in the opposite direction from which we’d come, through another set of barren archways. I noted we didn’t pass a single soul. Where were all the Mist King’s subjects?

“He isn’t the monster you think he is. There will be no burning and flesh-eating. Whatever stories you heard, they aren’t true.”

Clearly, that was what they wanted me to think, but how could I believe any of them?

“So, he’ll let me go?” I asked, brows arched.

“Well.” A pause. “No. The mists are dangerous. You wouldn’t survive out there alone.”

A bitter laugh popped from my throat. “That is exactly what Oberon said to keep us in line.”

Toryn fell silent. Clearly, he couldn’t come up with a good argument. Because there wasn’t one.

A few moments and corridor turns later, we came upon a fae lounging against a wall. He was the most muscular person I’d ever seen in my life. All of these fae were. Unlike the tall, lithe Albyrian fae, he looked as though he had been hardened by battle. His black hair was pulled up into a ponytail, showing off the rows of silver rings lining each ear, glittering against his deep bronze skin.

“This is Alastair,” Toryn said.

He flashed me a grin as we approached. “Look who it is. The famous Tessa.”

I shot Toryn a look. “The famous Tessa?”

He smiled. “It’s a small castle and not much happens around here. Word gets around fast.” To the fellow warrior, he said, “Where’s Niamh?”

“Polishing her boots and her sword.” He rolled his eyes. “Like always. Why?”

“Tessa here needs some clothes.” Toryn pointedly did not glance down at the horrid gown, but the new fae had no such hesitation.

He gave me a once-over and let out a low whistle. “Straight from the wedding, I see. What kind of material is that shit? Doesn’t look very warm.”

“Gauze and linen.”

“Need something warmer,” he said with a grunt before leaning to the side. His fist pounded the nearest door. “Niamh, open up!”

I shifted on my feet as something boomed from beyond the door. Another thump followed soon after, and then the door swung wide. A fae sidled out with woolly violet hair, black skin, and a wicked smile, her steps full of confident swagger. Tall and powerful, she wore leather armor topped with steel, and boots that looked like weapons themselves. A jagged scar ran down one cheek. I tried not to look too closely. Fae never had scars.

“What the hell is this?” she asked, pointing at me.

“It’s King Oberon’s betrothed, our famous gem thief,” Alastair said with a laugh. “How did you not know she was here?”

“Oh, right.” Leaning against the doorframe, she folded her arms and cocked her head. “Not what I expected. She’s not Oberon’s usual type.”

“I take that as a compliment,” I said.

She grinned. “And bold, too. Where is she staying?”

“In the dungeon.” Toryn cleared his throat. “Kal’s orders. She isn’t here willingly.”

“Oh, for the love of the moon,” she groaned with a roll of her eyes. “Gem thief, would you try to escape if we let you sleep in a normal room?”

“No.”