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Lyrena’s smile faltered. “You catch more faeries with honey than vinegar.”

Arran ignored them both, his large palm landing on the table with enough force to call the room to order. “We need to make inroads between the groups. If a unit is fractured, it is ineffective.”

“The court is not a legion on the battlefield,” I pointed out.

“I’m finding them uncomfortably similar,” he admitted, his eyes on me now.

All eyes on me—on us.

“What would you do if you saw this kind of fracturing in an army under your command?” I asked. He wasn’t wrong, precisely. Our court was certainly as brutal and bloodthirsty as any battlefield. The admiring looks on my courtier’s faces after my display with the acolytes was proof enough of that.

And Arran’s instincts had been right before.

He shifted in his seat, facing me more fully. His black eyes weren’t burning. Quite the opposite; they’d turned coolly calculating. I couldn’t help but admire the handsome planes of his face, the determination in his strong jaw.

The Brutal Prince.

MyBrutal Prince.

My king, now.

What hadn’t seemed quite so terrifying in the hours before our Joining now seemed absolutely world-shattering.

My mind began to fracture into questions. I shoved them down and focused on the male before me and the plan he began to lay out.

“I would appoint someone who is trusted by both sides, who knows the customs of both factions. Let them make inroads between them. Someone who is naturally good with people, but loyal to me above all else.”

Lyrena snorted. “A bit of a shortage of loyalty in these parts, lately.”

It wasn’t funny, even though she chuckled.

I drummed my fingers on the tabletop, tilting my head to the side and dragging my tongue over my lower lip in the way that I knew drove Arran wild.

Preparing for battle. “So, you’re thinking of Parys, then?”

Across the table, Parys choked on his aural.

At least he didn’t spit it all over the Round Table.

“The terrestrials do not know him,” Gwen said.

“But they like him,” Lyrena countered instantly. “I’ve seen them drinking and chatting enough times.”

“Liking and trusting are not the same thing,” Gwen argued.

“It is the best we can do at the moment,” I slid into the fray. “You’ve read enough to avoid offending the terrestrials unintentionally, and you are the most Ancestors-damned chatty person I know.”

“And you are loyal.” Arran’s dark timbre silenced all other arguments.

I flicked him a glance.

Thank you.

A rumbling growl of approval bloomed in my chest.

Perhaps ruling together wouldn’t be so difficult after all.

“Parys, we officially appoint you as Liaison for the United Fae Realms of Annwyn,” I said. Arran’s knee nudged mine under the table.