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So.

Such a simple word. Mina had expressed worries, and Lothaire had circumvented them—with two little letters and attitude.

Then she frowned. “Why cast me adrift here?” She’d never been near a boat, but she liked nautical references. “Why does this matter to you?”

“Because you’re so socially inept that seeing you in my court pains me.”

As his words reverberated through her, blood tears threatened. “Oh.”

A natural-born vampire like Lothaire couldn’t lie without theránaburning his throat; he’d shown no discomfort.

I pain him.Her pride stung with its own pain because she could see his point.

Mina’s confidence was forever at odds with her shyness, so much so that she’d settled into an unshakableawkwardness. And despite all the training her brother and uncles had provided in combat and scholastics, none of them had helped her grow into vampire womanhood.

“I see.” She stifled her hurt, wondering for the millionth time why she never lacked boldness in the training yard—onlyeverywhere else. “My apologies for your discomfort.”Do I make others feel the same? Do Dacian subjects laugh behind my back?

Lothaire added, “I’m also sending you away because I’ve seen where your heart has landed. Your infatuation is not acceptable.”

She gasped. “You know?” She called her crush the Ideal because he would be perfect for her. Or nearly so.

Broad shoulders. Ruffled blond hair. Clear blue eyes.

Lothaire arched his brows. “Of course I know. Dacians are keen observers, are we not? You blush and stammer whenever Kristoff so much as gazes in your direction.”

“I-I do that with almost everyone, especially those not related to me!” Kristoff the Gravewalker was the half brother of Lothaire, but he shared no blood with Mina.

“He’s not for you. Nïx has already foretold his Bride, and you didn’t make his heart beat.”

Yet.And Nïx lied about all sorts of things.

“Besides, Kristoff is likely soon to be dead.” Mina knew Lothaire debated killing him for political reasons. For now, Lothaire’s queen had held her mate in check. “By the time you’re finished with the nymphs, you’ll be wiser and emboldened—and you won’t think he’s good enough for you.”

Doubtful! “Uncle, p-please! Another mission would better suit me.Anymission.”

Ignoring her, he strode deeper into the forest, and she had no choice but to follow. In the distance, she spied a giant oak tree towering hundreds of feet in the air, with windows and balconies throughout the trunk. String lanterns lit the enormous branches. Loreans thronged it.

As the sounds of the crowd grew louder, Mina’s hand found her sword out of habit. This weapon had been handed down by her mother, who’d inherited it from her own.

“Ah-ah. No engagement. Only observation.” Lothaire eyed her. “Why are you not falling over yourself for this opportunity? Your mist will protect you from attackers and the vampire plague, and you’ll have blood whenever you need it. You would have totryto fuck this up.”

“Language, Uncle!” Her tone was pleading. “And what about the sun?”

He blinked. “Oh. That. Though you are abysmally young, your mist should protect you.”

Should?She’d trained with her mist since she was a vampling, but she couldn’t maintain it indefinitely.

“Do a good job, learn the Lore, and perhaps I will decree you Dacia’s first ambassador to this otherlanders’ realm once I open up the kingdom.”

What an honor that would be! “Do you really mean it?”

“No.”

Crestfallen, she said, “Mirceo and my uncles believe you are cruel. I’ve defended you, saying you were misunderstood.” She gazed up at him. “Who was right?”

He grinned, flashing fangs. “All of you were.”

Movement drew her attention. A trio of satyrs had begun grinding against a trio of oaks. “Th-this is . . . is tree fornication!”