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I DON’T GET PAID ENOUGH FOR THIS

Loch

"O h, marvelous. A living nightmare for breakfast," I call cheerfully as I enter the almost empty dining room.

The queen's feasting on leftovers instead of calling for fresh food. Food that should have been brought to her in any case. The castle isn't yet running as it should, but it's a feat that it's running at all, after so long. One I have to thank the annoyingly efficient sea princess for; whenever I think of a matter regarding the running of the house that ought to be addressed, she's already given orders.

I find her, along with the queen, her witch friend, and that bloodthirsty nixie at the table. I mean it when I say at the table. A chair has been cleared away right next to Darina, and the beast eats, face first, directly off of a plate.

I see Darina add a bit of cream to her cured meats.

Madness.

"She's Furia," Darina informs me, with a grin I haven't seen as long as I've known her. Which, I realize, is three days. Some of her worry, the haunted, hunted looks seem to have disappeared.

Her hand pats the head of the nixie, who seems far too self-satisfied as she leans into the touch.

"Fitting," I admit.

I note that the other girls wisely left plenty of room between themselves and the beast. Never one to show myself a coward, I take the seat at her other side.

"Furia," I say pleasantly. "Please don't eat me." To the rest of the assembly, I announce, "Well, I can officially say that most of our guests have finally left. They've seen enough to accept that the high queen now rules, and will return to their affairs. I'd say the twenty or so remaining behind are likely angling for a permanent place in the high court. And you should grant it."

"They're trustworthy?" Rina asks, perplexed.

Just when I thought she’d started to understand this world. "Absolutely not," I reply without hesitation. "They're spies, opportunists, and rakes in trouble with their own courts. But take them all the same. They'll swear to you, personally, and be useful enough from that point on. The servants who have chosen to remain, I've automatically included in your staff. Though there are two I want your opinion on."I grimace.

"Why?"

"They're winter gals. I understand they were assigned to you by Junis. I thought you might wish for them to return to winter..."

"Lurette and Flyn.By all means, if they want to stay, I'm glad to have them. They were kind to me."

"Delighted to hear it. You've a number of hobs and pucks to run the kitchen—and you'll be glad to hear you stole the court of wing's famous cook. She was dreadfully ill-treated up in the mountains. But not many of the servants can handle the formal things—clothes and the like. They'll be assigned to you. Next, I want to talk guards."

I bore her to tears, I can tell. She mostly tells me yes. I gather as much patience as I can muster.

"Darina? You've allowed me so much leeway, if I wanted to surround you with people happy to murder you, I would have that freedom."

She pouts. "But you don't."

"He's right, you know," Relva says, surprising me by agreeing with my point. "You ought to be more careful."

"I'll be as careful as I need to be outside of these rooms. But you're all here because I trust you. I can't do any of this without people I trust."

There's something in her voice that I don't care to analyze; a sadness I don't need to wonder about. My jaw's tight. I know I should stay out of it. In fact, it's in my best interests to completely ignore the matter altogether and let it play out. Pick up the pieces once they return.

But my sister is sad.

Fuck. What's happening to me?

"Have you talked to Ryther?" I’m horrified to hear myself ask.

She flushes. "What?"

"Ryther. You. A long-overdue chat about expectations, agreements, sexual position preferences—the kinds of things people figure out before mating each other?"

"Oh." She clears her throat. "Yes. He will be leaving once things quiet down here—so, likely today, I suppose."

Someone kill me.

Better yet…

I will kill someone.

"Right. Of course. Naturally."

By all the gods, I am tired.