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That’s exactly what I do.

Nobody is more surprised than me when power rushes from my hands and a blob of water rises from a nearby jar.

“Stop it!” Myron’s command hisses through the air at the princess whose jade gaze is following the water like she is expecting it to explode into a million droplets any moment.

A smirk of understanding spreads on her lips as she realizes it’s not Myron directing the water either. She folds her arms over her chest, raising a brow at him for no other reason than to torment him, I’m certain, and drawls, “Or what?”

I swear, Myron is boiling with rage beside me. I don’t know what their bargain entails exactly, but I’m sure refraining from killing each other must be part of it, or they’d long have been at each other’s throats.

“I might shower not only her but you as well.”

I do appreciate the way she antagonizes the Crow King. I would have done the same thing two months ago, before I learned what a tormented soul he is, how his cruelty has nothing to do with who he wants to be. How he’s been fighting for freedom just as hard as I have—and that over a century.

“It’s me.” My voice comes out breathless as I hold onto my focus.

Myron’s head whips to the side, his gaze tangible as he tries to figure out what I mean. The air feels tense to bursting; so does the magic in my veins as it coils along my arms into my palms, across the space to the bubble of water now hovering right in front of my face.

“By Shaelak?—”

“I’d say, the Guardians,” Clio corrects with that signature smirk. “But by all means, if you believe your gods are more receptive to our pleas, talk to them instead.”

Her comment diverts my attention, and the grasp on my magic slips, sending the bubble spraying across the room.

Myron’s bulging eyes are almost comical as he stares at me from his dripping face.

“Well, that’s a surprise,” Clio notes, her gaze on Myron rather than me. “A little human just rendered the powerful Crow King speechless.”

But said Crow King ignores her, his gaze on mine, a smile tugging on his lips and a hint of pride gracing his beautiful, pale features. “I knew it,” he whispers, and for that one moment, neither the place nor the fairy princess exist. It’s just him and me and the absolute faith he’s had in my magic even when I myself doubted there was anything to it.

Before the feeling can settle, can make that simmering warmth grow inside my chest, Clio flicks her hand, and another jar appears in the space between us. “Great. Now that you’ve figured it out, let’s have some fun.”

I don’t know how many times I summon water that day, only that, with each time even a droplet lifts at my command, I become a little stronger, less vulnerable—and perhaps more of a target than I’ve been before. The mere idea of the defenseless bride suddenly wielding power will certainly earn me more enemies among the Crows who hope for the curse to remain unbroken, and they’ll try to get me out of the way before I can do any more harm.

It’s hours later when Clio leaves us to return to King Recienne’s court with a parting wave at me that reminds me of a complicit rather than the enemy she is for Myron that I get a moment with my husband alone.

“The next political assembly is tomorrow.” He holds the door for me, a thoughtful expression on his features.

“I know.” He told me a few days ago to prepare me to step in front of the Crow Court in my official capacity again—also to give me time to process that, this time, Ephegos won’t be there as his spymaster. My heart does a painful jolt for the friend I lost, for the lighthearted grins and witty comments he made when he escorted me along the hallways.

When I meet Myron’s gaze, I could swear he’s thinking about Ephegos, too.

“Who took over his role?” I never asked, shooing away from the pain of the conversation, the guilt flooding me at the mere mention of Ephegos.

“I haven’t appointed a new spymaster.” His tone is flat, his feet quick as he walks me down the corridor toward the stairs leading into the entrance hall. “Some of the attendees are coming in early so I can talk to them individually about the most recent developments.”

“What developments?” I’ve been so focused on figuring out my magic, the curse, my role here in general that I haven’t asked enough questions about the looming threat that are the Fire Fairies. “Did they burn down more villages? Any new intrusions into the palace that I don’t know of?”

We reach the landing of the stairs, Myron rolling over whatever information he’s about to share with me. His hand finds mine, and a smile spreads open his lips as he pulls me to a halt. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll take care of it.”

I don’t know what it is in his expression that scares the shit out of me—perhaps the too-soft smile that reminds me of something real rather than the show he and I have been putting on for his court. The hairs stand at the back of my neck, and my pulse quickens. Then, his words register. “What do you mean, you’lltake care of it? Is there something going on that I should be aware of?” More Flames? Another assault on the palace he’s been hiding from me? Did someone else die? I haven’t seen Royad all day?—

Myron’s hand slides up my arm in a careful caress, his eyes watchful on mine as if he’s anxious he’ll miss something if he as much as blinks. When he reaches my shoulder, he lifts his fingers to my cheek, cupping my face with a touch so tender I almost lean into it on instinct.

“Everything will be all right, Wolayna.” He smiles at me, strands of his hair damp from my water explosion framing his face in a way that gives him a less regal appearance and brings out a more primal sort of beauty.

“You can’t possibly know that.” My heart stutters. “The Flames are still out there, and the factions are still?—”

“It doesn’t matter.” Myron lowers his face an inch, then another until he’s whispering, lips brushing the shell of my ear, and I shiver as warmth creeps through my body like a presence of its own. “Everything will be all right becauseyouare here.”