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On the morning of the Winter Solstice, most Witches attend services at their Temple to honor the dead. It is tradition to make food—mostly baked sweets and chocolates—and leave them as offerings around the city. For their Faction, it is a time to honor the ones they have lost. A time of contemplation and prayer.

For the Queen, it’s an excuse to throw a party.

The Winter Ball was the social highlight of the year for aristocrats in the Eternal City and inner octants, and many socialites spent months each year plying the Queen and her heir with gifts and social visits to earn themselves an invitation.

In the past, Fey loathed these events. Like the Princess’s birthday months earlier, her role in the Winter Ball was nothing more than a show of the Queen’s strength. Fey and her sisters would spend the party standing guard over the Queen and her daughter, still as statues at her back, little more than props.

But for once, Fey found herself looking forward to the celebration, looking forward to spending the evening alongside her sisters. They were typically situated just far enough behind the throne that they could whisper to one another—their masks hiding any sign of their lips moving.

The idea of donning her fighting leathers again, even just to stand there and look frightening, sounded like a dream to Fey. When the solstice finally came, and the hour of the Winter Ball approached, Fey couldn’t help but be excited.

Chapter 34

“Introducing the Lady Madeline and her consort, of the second octant.”

The herald’s voice boomed across the massive room, amplified by her Air magic, and following their introduction, Lady Madeline swept into the room in a crimson and gold gown, a male in matching attire on her arm.

The couple stopped before the dais, bowing to the Queen, and wished her a joyous Solstice. Queen Edelin accepted their greetings with a regal nod, as she had with all the guests so far, and waved them away, bidding them to join the party.

Fey was pleased to learn the Princess had been given leave to enjoy the ball, and for the first year since Fey had become a Queen’s Blade, Princess Amalia would not be forced to join her mother on the dais, accepting thanks and welcoming guests. Fey couldn’t see her in the crowd, but she hoped the Princess was finally getting to mingle with other children her age, for once.

Queen Edelin, of course, would not be joining in the festivities. She would sit on her throne the entire night, as she did each Solstice, welcoming guests as they arrived and watching over the Solstice Ball in the bored and haughty manner befitting a Queen.

All four Queen’s Blades stood behind her, two at each shoulder. Far enough back to give her space for private conversation, but close enough to make most guests nervous. Dameon, captain of her Guard, stood at the foot of the dais, his hand on the hilt of the sword at his waist.

“Introducing Lord and Lady Roberts, and their consort Desdemona, of the Eternal City,” The herald announced, and three more guests entered and approached the Queen, bowing formally and offering pleasantries.

“Their consort is a Shifter,” Lilith whispered, loud enough for her sisters to hear, but just quiet enough to evade the Queen’s sharp ears and Dameon’s notice. It was an art they had practiced for just such an occasion. Lilith, somehow, knew all the gossip in the realm and dished it out like small, tasty treats to them throughout the Winter Ball. It was the one royal event she seemed required to attend, the only one she never seemed to be otherwise occupied for. “All of their past consorts have been Shifters.”

“They must have a type,” Joy said, her voice barely audible over the din of the party.

“Oh, they do, a very specific type,” Lilith answered. Her voice dropped even lower, the sign of juicy gossip. “I’ve heard they like to be hunted. And that pretty Lioness at their side is more than happy to oblige.”

Willow stifled a laugh, and Lilith twerked her eyebrows at her suggestively.

“Have you ever been hunted, Lilith?” Fey asked.

“Once or twice,” she answered with a casual but barely perceptible shrug. “I can’t say I’m a fan. I’d rather be tied up. Less cardio.”

Another giggle from Willow, and even Fey couldn’t help but smile behind her mask.

Goddess above and below, Fey had missed this. Missed spending time with her sisters, missed the easy flow of conversation between the four of them.

“Look,” whispered Joy. “It’s the other Queen.”

And sure enough, there she was—the Queen’s twin sister, Cassandra. She entered before she was even formally announced, her head held high, raven black hair piled on her head in an intricate braid. Unlike other guests, she didn’t wear a ball gown or expensive suit, adorning herself instead in the pure white robes of the White Priestesses.

“Introducing High Priestess Cassandra, head of the White Coven and of royal blood,” the herald announced, but Cassandra had already started toward the dais. Ignoring Dameon entirely, she climbed the few steps to the Queen, coming to a stop directly in front of her sister. She spoke to her in a hushed voice, low enough Fey couldn’t hear what was being said.

Cassandra seemed worried, her brows drawn together as she spoke, but Queen Edelin’s expression never changed. She nodded to her sister and said with a finality that made it clear the conversation was finished.

“We will look into it,” she said, motioning Dameon to join them on the dais. “Give the Captain of my Guard the details, and we will send someone to investigate. Go.”

Cassandra bowed, and Dameon escorted her out of the ballroom, his hand on her elbow and the two of them speaking in low voices.

“She has a daughter, you know,” Lilith told her sisters, waiting until the hem of Cassandra’s long white robe vanished out the door before speaking.

“No!” Joy squealed.