Page 23

“Your Highness?” The spotted faun, Calliope, takes the bottle from her partner. To my alarm, she lifts herself onto the dais, ignoring the stairs.

“Wait —” I clutch the arms of the chair.

The frothy tulle flares out behind her as she tumbles onto the platform. She clambers upright, hooves clattering.

“Prince Lysander,” she says quietly, leaning in close, fearless.

I freeze. I would never forgive myself if I touched her by accident.

“Swift and I have been trying for a litter for ten years now. Her seed is starting to run dry, and I’m not as young as I was.

Being surrounded by humans makes it hard — our bodies are unsure.

The Oath would mean a lot to both of us. I promise we’ll use it respectfully.”

She holds out the bottle.

What did Syril say to do? It’s all flown out of my head.

“I — I don’t know how,” I stammer.

Her face lights up. “Oh, that’s easy. Your magic. Just drink from the bottle and your saliva will be enough. Don’t worry, we don’t need to see you spill your seed.”

My cheeks burn and she lets out a bright laugh. She sets the bottle on the arm of the chair and climbs back down. I put it to my mouth. Like she said, it’s just water.

I let the water touch my lips. A strange shiver passes through me, like a bell being rung. It’s so unexpected I gasp and immediately lower the bottle to see if they noticed.

Both fauns are watching me. Warm with embarrassment, I get to my feet and set the bottle down at the edge of the dais.

“I accept your pledge and give you my Oath.” I stumble over the words, but Calliope only smiles. She puts the cap back on the bottle carefully.

“Thank you, Your Highness.” She bows again, and Swift curtsies. There’s true gratitude in their eyes and it humbles me.

I feel good. Like I’ve done something to help them.

My confidence lasts until the next monster ducks through the curtain, and he’s not a wildling at all, but a gargoyle.

“Your Highness. I am Kilim of the West Greenriver clan.” The gargoyle bows, his well-cut suit not shifting a millimeter. His horns gleam with polish in the low light and his teeth are studded with gold.

“Welcome,” I reply stiltedly.

The gargoyle straightens. “I would offer myself as a sacrifice for the blessing. If you have need, that is.”

His delivery is so smooth and confident that it takes me a moment to understand what he’s offering. I shoot upright.

“No thank you,” I choke.

The gargoyle smirks. “I can assure you I’m up for the task. I have a special suit designed to protect me from magic poisoning.”

A special suit?? A shiver goes through me. There are other scenarios that can cause magic sickness, but… did he wear it here expressly to offer himself up?

“I don’t have need,” I tell him, more firmly this time.

“Ah, well.” The gargoyle bows again. “I had to try my luck. Not every day there’s a fertile fairy in our midst.”

He leaves without pledging, which I’m a tiny bit relieved by. I squeeze the arms of the chair as the curtain rustles again. This might be a long night.

To my relief, most who pledge are wildlings — fauns, naga, friendly harpies — although a few waterspirits surprise me.

Like the first pair of fauns, they bring bottles, trinkets, carvings, and all I have to do is put my lips to them and share a touch of my magic.

Not all of them are as self-assured as Calliope, but their heads are held high with pride.

There are more wildlings in the city than I thought, but also far more monsters willing to risk their skin over a proposition.

My face burns hotter with every offer. I’m not a total innocent, of course — though the show with Bear wasn’t sexual for me, it was certainly meant to titillate.

Rationally, I understand the taboo of being with a fairy is alluring.

And not all of them leave without pledging.

But there’s only one person I desire, and he hasn’t come through the curtain yet.

My cheeks are on fire and my body buzzes with confused sensations by the time the train of monsters trickles to a halt.

Embarrassment and pride, the strange thrill of the Oath and the shock of each offering — my chest is tight and I have to cross one leg over the other to hide my reaction.

I have no interest in any of the monsters who approach me, but the Oath offers fertility, and my body is hard pressed to forget that.

Yet a sense of accomplishment fills me. More than just being a pretty royal sponsor on Syril’s arm, I’ve done something. I’ve helped them.

“I look forward to seeing their numbers flourish in the coming months.” Syril appears out of nowhere and I jump.

The fresh reference to the purpose of the Oath makes me flush again.

“Well — good,” I stammer.

“You’ve given them more than just an Oath. You’ve also given them hope. The wildlings here are shy of humans and outnumbered by shadowfey, but Greenriver is still their home. Your presence is a beacon for them.”

I straighten. “I’m glad you encouraged me to do it. Truly.”

The curtain rustles again. This time the person who enters isn’t a monster at all, but a tall, handsome human in a perfectly fitted velvet suit. I gulp. His dark hair is pushed off his face and his jewelry glimmers in the low light. The familiar red stone amulet winks proudly from around his neck.

My nerves tingle.

“I’ll come back later,” Syril murmurs, slipping away.

I hold my breath as Ezra steps onto the carpet. His dark eyes land on me, and the power of them sends a thrill through me as if I’ve just been lifted a few inches off the ground. When he looks at me, everything feels good and right. Like I was meant to be here, and he was meant to stand before me.

I breathe deeply, but I’m unable to dispel the eruption that bursts through my chest. Every sensation that pricked me through the night suddenly returns with a vengeance. I plaster myself to the chair in an attempt not to melt away as Ezra strides forward, his gaze fierce with intent.