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Hostility bounced between Silt and the princess as they entered an opulent banquet room.

Seemed Kosmina was all out of patience with him. He mused darkly,If I’m not careful, she might even try to decapitate me.

Flickering chandeliers cast light over the roughly two dozen immortals seated along a lengthy table. Most were winged demons or shifters.

Lustful gazes swept over Silt—understandable, because he looked good.

Kosmina’s elegant beauty drew just as many gazes, and her bearing screamedroyalty, reminding him that she was far out of his reach. He might be the ruler of sand, but that was a powerless scepter at present. Resentment simmered.

“Our new guests!” Enti called from the end of the table, her ivory mask highlighting her fuchsia eyes. Her dinner dress was typical sorceress garb—revealing and heavy with gold. “Welcome to Princess Kosmina of Dacia and Silt Harea, the King of Sand. See, everyone? I told you more guests would come.” Had that been under debate? She indicated two seats to her left. “Please.”

Kosmina raised her chin and waited for Silt to pull out her chair.

“Do you figure me for a gentleman or a servant?” He sat, leaving her standing. “I’m neither.”

She gazed skyward with a sigh, then took her seat. “Thank you, Enti, for your hospitality.”

The sorceress gave them a warm smile. “It’s my pleasure, princess.” She gestured to a siren beside her. “This is Pearl, my right-hand woman around the castle. She inspired our boiling sea.”

Pearl nodded civilly. She wore a crown of shells atop her chestnut hair, her hazel eyes kohled. A voice-box modulator collared her throat, standard for Sirenae. Without it, Pearl’s raised voice or song would enthrall every unmated male within hearing range, a problematic ability sirens rarely used.

“And beside her is Xodin.” Enti indicated a winged demon next to Pearl who inclined his horned head in greeting. “He’s in charge of security. He’s relatively new here but very capable. The rest you’ll come to meet in time.” In old Sorselan, she told Silt, “I trust you found everything”—she cast him a meaningful glance—“to your liking.”

He answered in the same, “I did. My thanks.”

Her little frown told him she knew he hadn’t slept with the females she’d sent. When Enti murmured, “Sometimes what we dream of isn’t actually what we need,” he commanded himself not to look at Kosmina.

So the sorceress was attracted to the sorcerer. Did he reciprocate?

The owner of Castle Vitis was ravishing, with the kind of smile that made others vie to provoke it, just to be dazzled. And seeing another of his kind, one who spoke his native tongue no less, must be heartening.This entire place would be, Mina thought as servants delivered dishes.

The Queen of Dreams offered abundance, all with that beaming smile. He would surely want to bed her.

Switching to English, Enti asked him, “No mask?” A server set a platter of roasted vegetables before her.

“I only wear them when in pursuit or battle, like the Sorceri hunters of old.”

“I see,” she said evenly. Yet Mina got the impression that Enti considered his lack of a mask some kind of Sorceri gaffe.

Another server approached to pour blood into Mina’s golden chalice. The sight of crimson across gold brought to mind the sorcerer’s nectar and burnished gaze. She feared all feeds would taste like chalk compared to him.

When he covered his own goblet to decline wine, Enti pursed her lips. “You don’t want to sample the vintage? It’s sweet, a Sorceri favorite.”

“I try to stay sharp in new situations.”

“Indeed.” Another Sorceri gaffe? “I would not have guessed that about you.At all.”

Mina didn’t sense malice in Enti, but they would be wise to keep up their guard. She scented her goblet for poisons, as Balery had taught her. Finding none, Mina sipped, then tried to hide her disappointment. Though the animal blood was of good quality, much like that in Dacia’s fountains, itdidtaste like chalk next to the sorcerer’s.

Had she enjoyed Silt’s so much because he was her first taste of an immortal—or because he was exactly to her liking?

He studied her expression with a smirk. “Not asmagicalas mine, is it, princess?”

How to answer without therána’sburn? “No. But it doesn’t bray afterward about how good it tastes, so on balance”—she made a weighing gesture with her hands—“it’s preferred.”

Nearby diners laughed, and Enti and Mina shared a look of mirth.

Silt’s glower was priceless.