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Percival appeared from one of the connected rooms. He must have been able to hear us all along, even with his more limited human hearing, because he didn’t ask any questions.

None of them did. They listened, they offered an occasional comment for confirmation. But it was all quiet.

So quiet, that when she finished speaking, Veyka looked to me.

What do I do now?Her eyes asked.

My beast had a few ideas.

“The faeries are wrong about the succubus,” Cyara said abruptly.

Veyka’s eyes whipped to her. “What do you mean?”

“The humans, this Taliya… they say it can only get into the minds of males. But the witch in the Tower of Myda was female.”

Veyka lurched, grabbing onto the bench to hold herself steady.

I moved forward to catch her, imperceptible to everyone else. My mate shot me a warning glare.

“Everything you’ve described… the strange discordant movements, the blackness, the cold that seems to drain your magic, it all fits with how you described the witch,” Cyara pressed on.

She was right.

My heart froze in my chest.

“And the assassin.”

Veyka’s eyes swung to me—they all did. But I only noticed hers.

“The assassin in your bedroom. When I touched him, to determine if he was elemental or terrestrial. My magic recoiled. The succubus must have been within him, or some vestige, after you killed him.”

Veyka was shaking her head. Her hair, heavy with sweat and grime, swayed limply over her shoulders. “That cannot be. He moved with purpose. He climbed the vines to get to my balcony.” Her voice faltered. “Roksana sent him.”

We stared at each other, but Veyka’s eyes were distant. She wasn’t looking at me. She was back in Baylaur, sorting through a thousand memories.

“Maybe it was something else,” Cyara said quietly. “It doesn’t quite fit.”

It didn’t.

But it was connected.

Cyara had said it herself more than once—coincidences did not exist. They were an excuse when we were too uncomfortable to admit the truth.

We were silent then. Even Percival. Even Maisri. She passed us each a plate of food. Cyara brought tea. We ate in silence. Exhaustion began to creep over the room.

Too much fighting. Too much new information.

If we were a unit on the battlefield, I would have commanded us to the rear and brought a fresh unit forward.

But we were it. We were all that stood between Annwyn and the succubus.

And we all knew it.

The plates were cleared. The yawns became more frequent.

When Maisri actually fell over sideways from exhaustion, Cyara stood up. “To bed with you,” she ordered the child, tugging her to her feet.

The daisy fae didn’t argue—proof enough.