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Barely-dressed men and women slid against one another, and the heady scent of sweat, drugs, and incense filled Wren’s nostrils. She swiped at her nose and tried to breathe through her mouth. A woman to her right jostled Wren and gave her a sloppy smile. Wren pressed away, but there wasn’t anywhere to go.

“Aren’t you pretty!” the woman trilled.

Vienne pushed the woman away. “Begone with you.”

The woman cackled and melted into the crowd.

“Let no one touch you,” her aunt commanded.

“Not a problem,” Wren muttered back, even as her head began to throb from the smoke.

Keep a clear head, keep a clear head, keep a clear head.

Another veiled servant appeared and cleared a path to the back of the room. The wall was gilded, and adorned with painted humans in compromising positions. Wren frowned. At least she didn’t have to wonder what kind of person Lord Idril was any longer. It seemed he was just as depraved as his king.

Their group was taken to the dais at the back of the room. It was built into the stone along with two occupied chairs that looked like thrones.

Interesting. Lord Idril considered himself king.

Wren made sure to stay as out of sight as possible, at the back of the group. Vienne didn’t tell her not to, which meant Wren could only assume that she had done what was expected of her.

It was easy to tell who Lord Idril was. He was sprawled over the larger, throne-like chair, his chest exposed and his feet bare. The only clothing he had on were a pair of leather trousers. His pointed ears were heavy with golden jewelry, setting off the deep auburn of his long hair, which was twisted into the loosest of braids. Even from where Wren stood she could tell he had piercing blue eyes. Sharp eyes. The kind of eyes that missed nothing, even when the elf who those eyes belonged to was laughing easily whilst a woman curled onto his lap, pawing at his chest, while another sat on the floor, playing with the hem of his trousers.

Wren’s lip curled in disgust as she noted the dainty gold collar adorning the women’s necks that connected to a long chain that Idril held in his hand.

“Later, later,” he promised the woman sitting on his lap, sweeping her back onto her feet and sending her on her way. Looking more closely at the woman as she walked away, Wren could tell they were of a similar age, and her face wore the kind of bland expression only drugs could be responsible for.

Everything about this place seemedwrong. Tainted.

Lord Idril and his depravedcourtmade Wren’s skin crawl. She wanted out.Neededout.

“Vienne,” Lord Idril purred, turning his attention to their group. Wren self-consciously tucked her hair behind her ears and made sure her hood was still secure.

Her aunt stepped forward to greet him.

“It has been too long since we’ve convened in person,” Idril said.

“I agree,” Vienne said, “though I am here now.”

The elf lord scanned the entire group, his eyes pausing on Wren. Idril straightened in his throne, then, focusing his attention on Wren even though she desperately wished he would look elsewhere. The way his eyes saw through her feltoily.Invasive. She knew, instinctively, that Lord Idril was looking at her not as a person but as an opportunity. A possession.

She had to get out.

“We have everything prepared in the north to attack the dark elves,” Vienne said, shocking Wren into listening once more.

What is this? Taking out the elves?

Slowly, Idril turned his gaze away from Wren and back to her aunt. A knowing grin spread across his face. “Excellent. My dear cousin in law has always hated surprises. I almost wish I could be there to see his face. We’ll strike before he has a chance to reroute his forces to defend them.”

“We’re attacking the dark elves?” Wren muttered to herself, trying to make sense of this move. All around her, members of the rebellion shushed her. Vienne fired a warning glare in Wren’s direction. For weeks now the rebellion had kept her out of their plans, but now, in the presence of a highborn elf lord of Verlanti, they were openly talking about dismantling the entire kingdom and her aunt was angry that she had asked one little question?

“And what have we here?” Lord Idril purred, unfolding out of his chair as elegantly as a jungle cat to stalk toward her. Forcing herself to stand her ground as the man closed the distance between them, she swallowed a mouthful of cloying air and wished she could hit herself for drawing more attention than she needed to.

She had no doubt she would not like whatever was going to happen next.

Her hand dropped to the dagger hidden beneath her cloak.

Well, he wouldn’t like what would happen either if he stepped over any lines.