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“We will go through correspondence first,” Guinevere decreed, slicing the first missive open with her dinner knife.

“More wine.”

Parys reached across the table. The wine bottle tumbled sideways. Guinevere caught it deftly, not a single precious drop hitting the table.

She glared—so she was willing to show something other than strict composure. “You are insufferable.”

He nudged her fingers away from the bottle, unfazed by her scowl. “Have you read any of those letters yet?”

“No.”

He refilled her glass as well as his own.

Guinevere didn’t stab him with the dinner knife. He supposed that was a positive sign, all things considered. Nor did she seem in immediate danger of shifting into her lioness form—though her amber-colored eyes were always slightly feline.

She flipped open the first letter. “It is from Agravayn.”

The dancing wind that always swirled around him died.

Parys watched her eyes dart across the page, making no pretense of eating.

“There hasn’t been a disappearance in over a month,” she continued. Her mouth fell open—just for a second. Then she snapped it closed, just as quickly, leveling him a look.This can’t be good…“But Evander is gone.”

Parys snorted and shoved another bite into his mouth. “Good riddance.”

Her jaw did drop open. Parys couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride at the accomplishment. Even Veyka had struggled to break through Guinevere’s cool composure.

She seemed to realize—and shove back down her reaction. Her voice was even again as she spoke: “You aren’t the least bit concerned that one of Their Majesties’ Goldstones has disappeared? That there could be something nefarious at play—perhaps even involving Gawayn’s brothers?”

“Evander is an ass. A self-righteous, self-important, unqualified ass. The most likely scenario is he offended the wrong elemental and got himself killed.” And if he came back to Baylaur, he would only cause them headaches. It was a boon… which maybe made Parys a bit more bloodthirsty than he’d realized. He forced another nonchalant shrug. “You should be grateful he didn’t bolt back here as soon as the disappearances were resolved and try to oust you from the Goldstones’ ranks.”

Guinevere slowly set aside the letter. Reluctant, but willing to take his advice. That was something. Maybe these dinners would not be as torturous as he imagined.

“How are your plans coming?”

Parys shrugged. “Both the elementals and the terrestrials have agreed. So, well enough,” he said around a thick slice of buttered bread.

He didn’t plan on telling her how much drinking had been involved in getting that outcome. Or the terrestrial female whose bedchamber he’d visited, in the high upper towers of the goldstone palace. His methods were his own and they were effective. That was all that mattered.

Guinevere waited for him to say more. When he didn’t she took a bite. Then a few more. She didn’t speak again until she’d finished the food on her plate.

Parys racked his brain. He didn’t think the silent while eating thing was a terrestrial custom. But their kingdom was large—larger than the elemental kingdom. Regional variances were to be expected.

Just as suddenly as she’d begun eating, Guinevere laid down her fork and lifted her eyes to Parys. “I am going to dismantle The Shadows.”

He choked on his wine—little scarlet droplets spraying the front of his off-white tunic.

Dragging a hand across his mouth, he cleared his throat. Failed—the words still coming out gravelly. “I thought you hated humans. Letting them be smuggled into Annwyn and tortured seems like your dream.”

No reaction that time. At least, not a visible one. Guinevere merely inclined her head slightly, her eyes drifting past him. Beyond. To where the Round Table sat, occupying the entire other half of the room.

“My dream was to become Queen,” she said quietly.

She stared at the Round Table.

Parys was pretty sure she didn’t even see him anymore, lost in her thoughts… or memories. She’d been the one to gift the table to Veyka—an heirloom of her house intended for Arthur as a joining present.

Parys had dug up a few texts that mentioned the Round Table, in the weeks immediately after its arrival and Merlin’s prophecy. Carved from a single block of stone taken from the Spine, the table was a behemoth. And said to possess mysterious powers. A magical object that behaved differently depending on who sat at it. Like the golden names now emblazoned upon it—a direct result of Veyka decreeing them all the Knights of the Round Table.