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‘What if I ruinedeverything?’ Sobs tore out with my words. ‘What if he never wants to see me again and I can't live with them anymore and they start whispering about me all over again and—’

Cactus. His fingers gripped my face so hard it hurt – ungentle, but the shock brought the escalating spiral of my thoughts to an immediate halt.Listen to me. Him being angry doesn't equal him hating you. He’ll come to his senses, or else Lyn will bring him to his senses, and then you’ll have a chance to explain yourself. Give him time to cool down. No use in trying to reason with a furious alf.

‘But what if—’

What if the ocean freezes over tonight?

‘Sounds more likely than Tared deciding tomorrow morning that he is perfectly happy to have a little fae whore living in his house,’ I muttered defiantly.

Creon quirked up an unamused eyebrow.Did he call you any such thing?

‘No, but—’

Good. His lip curled up a fraction.OtherwiseI would have to conduct some elaborate experiments on all the different directions his knees can bend.Give it a night, Em. You may find out tomorrow morning it's all much more manageable than you expected.

Tomorrow. The Cobalt Court. Golds help me, how was I going to deal with a single binding if I hadn't settled this fight by that time?

But my knees were trembling. A headache was building behind my eyes, threatening to break through my skull. The day had gone on for too long and brought too much trouble with it, and no matter how hard my instincts were screaming at me that the foundations of my life were slipping from beneath my feet with every second I wasted here, my rational mind had to admit that any solution I tried in this state would just make everything worse.

‘I don't want to see them right now,’ I whispered.

Creon released my chin and hoisted me into his arms without a word. Cradling me against his firm chest, he stepped over a small circle of mushrooms and past a tangled bush of thorny vines before he sank down on the forest floor to rest his back against a sturdy oak. His wings fidgeted restlessly for a moment, then folded around me in his lap, darkening the silver-streaked night to an impenetrable black.

Vaguely, I realised that even Alyra did not object.

Sleep washed over me suspiciously easily. I was too far gone to care. Let it be demon magic. Let it be whatever powers this forest possessed. Let it be the strong arms around me and the wings shielding me from every angry word, the beat of Creon’s heart against my cheek and the warm, spiced smell of male skin. My thoughts grew hazy and bottomless, and I gave in to the lure of temporary oblivion – to the desperate and unfounded faith that the world would mysteriously have rectified itself by the time morning came around.

Chapter 31

Theworldhadnotrectified itself by morning.

I woke alone in my own bed, below a ceiling of intricately braided twigs. Creon was nowhere to be seen. Alyra perched on the foot board of my bed, sleeping, her small head turned below her wing. She woke the moment I moved, ruffled her feathers, then hopped off her seat and peered at me with a clear expectation of movement in her beady eyes.

I didn't want to move.

But I couldn't hide myself in this little hut forever, and the longer I waited, the harder it would be to face the world again. I swung my legs out of bed, braced myself for one last moment, then pushed myself to my feet and grabbed the first more-or-less clean dress I could find from my bag. A black one, today – whatever we were going to find at the Cobalt Court, I suspected my colours would come in handy.

The sun had only just risen, and the bright colours of the nymph forest were shrouded in a deep golden glow. Dew sparkled on every leaf and petal, reflecting the first rays of light in a dazzling display as I cautiously made my way to the clearing where we had eaten together last night.

It was almost deserted now.

Agenor must have gone home before Tared’s unfortunate discovery, or at least I hoped he had; if he had to be informed about my escapades, I preferred to do it myself. Tared himself was nowhere to be seen either, quite to my relief. But I did find Beyla in that wide open space between the fragrant trees, and the frosty look she sent me as I tiptoed closer crushed my last hopes of cushioning the blow of this news for her.

‘Morning, Emelin,’ she said flatly and returned her attention to the rumpled notebook she had been reading. Her bag lay beside her, fully packed already. ‘Might be best if you prepared to leave as soon as possible.’

Not the moment for elaborate apologies, the glaring message between the lines said. I swallowed, stomach twisting, and made a single unwise attempt anyway.

‘I just wanted to say I'm sorry for not telling you—’

She lowered her notebook so swiftly it was almost a slap, and it took every bit of self-restraint I possessed not to jump back like a frightened rabbit. Her glare at me was the sharpest I had ever seen her wield, the ever-present hollow grief in her pale blue eyes all but eclipsed by the sheer force of her anger.

‘You'resorry?’

‘I was just … you know, hoping everyone would be getting along a little better by the time I told you …’

My voice died away. Against the memory of Tared’s frigid anger, my hopes of the last weeks sounded so pathetically small, so humiliatingly childish. Get along better? While half of our company still expected Creon to charm Lyn away at any moment?

‘You fell in love with a fae executioner,’ Beyla said, her frail voice biting, ‘then didn't tell us about it for months on end. How did you ever expect that to end well, Emelin?’