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T he click of Marjani’s heels against the white marbled granite sounded loud in her ears. Sindre and Roald turned to watch her.

“That will be all,” the king said to Ula.

“Very well.” With a nod, she left Marjani alone with the two purebloods.

Marjani quelled the cowardly urge to run after Ula and beg her to stay. Instead, she kept moving, stopping a few feet from the men and inclining her head like the alpha’s second she was. “Good evening, my lords.”

“Good evening, Marjani mín .” Sindre looked her over with unmistakable satisfaction. “You look lovely. I thought that dress would suit you.”

She wanted to growl that she wasn’t “his” Marjani, but she forced herself to thank him. “So do you,” she added.

He lifted a brow in question.

She smiled sweetly. “Look lovely, I mean. The silver brings out your eyes.”

Take that, you condescending prick.

A beat passed, and then Sindre broke into the most genuine smile she’d yet seen from him. “Thank you,” he returned, while beside him, Roald harrumphed.

Two elves bearing trays of appetizers emerged from one of the arched doorways. A third elf, a white-haired, dark-skinned man with a cheery smile on his round face, appeared at Marjani’s elbow.

“Some nectar, Miss?” He offered her a sparkling gold liquid in a crystal goblet.

Marjani’s eyes widened. She’d heard of fae nectar, of course. An army could travel for days on the sparkling drink, which magically provided both energy and necessary nutrients.

“Thank you.” She accepted the goblet, no longer worried about eating and drinking Sindre’s offerings. He wanted her to willingly accept his geas , which meant no tricks on his part.

Sindre touched his goblet to hers. “To a productive negotiation.”

“I look forward to it, your highness.” She let her lips curve.

His left brow quirked.

She’d surprised him. Good. That was the plan: Flirt with Sindre. Let him think she’d changed her mind so she could catch him off-guard—and then strike.

She brought the goblet to her mouth. The nectar smelled amazing, like ice wine and apricots, and tasted even better.

Fane arrived along with a man who looked so much like him that she blinked. Same lean good looks. Same blond hair, although the older man’s reached halfway down his back. Same wry smile and gravelly voice.

“Arne,” said the king. “I wasn’t aware you were invited to dinner.”

“My lord.” The handsome blond fae inclined his head and then grinned. “I assumed it was an oversight, since both my father and my son were included.”

Sindre’s answering smile was indulgent. “I’ll tell the elves to set another place.”

Marjani barely heard as Fane gave her a slow, hot look that moved down the aqua dress to the silly satin heels and then back up.

“Hey, there.” His deep voice was soft. Intimate. “You look like you’re feeling better.”

She couldn’t control her body’s reaction at that heated look and voice. Her nipples tightened and her stomach hollowed out. But her reply was cool because she had to convince Sindre she’d switched her interest to him. She couldn’t even tell Fane why, because she knew he’d try and stop her.

“I am,” she said. “And you?”

A small frown creased Fane’s brow. “I’m good, thanks.”

He edged closer, and she edged back. His frown increased. Just as he opened his mouth to say something, Arne turned to her.

“And you must be this Marjani I’m hearing so much about.”

“Yeah?” She eyed him warily.

“Meet my dad,” Fane said in a wry but affectionate tone. “Arne Morningstar, this is Marjani Savonett.”

“Peace to you and yours,” she said to Arne—and let out a squeak when he pulled her into a hug.

“Peace to you and yours.” He kissed both her cheeks and murmured, “I’m here to help.”

Their eyes met, and she nodded.

The five of them formed a circle. Roald was the only one not drinking nectar. Instead, he had his broad hand wrapped around a frosty mug of beer.

Lord Roald’s grandson. She looked from Fane to the fae warrior.

She’d assumed Fane was basically a hanger-on at the ice fae court, but he had a powerful, high-ranking grandfather.

It explained a few things—like why he was still alive.

Sindre might punish Fane—she’d seen that up close and personal—but even the king would think twice before killing the grandson of the captain of his guard.

And on top of that, his father, Arne, was clearly a favorite of the king.

The five of them made small talk. Arne managed to bring the tension down a few notches, joking and telling stories until even Roald unbent enough to chuckle. It was kind of surreal—she’d gone from a cage to a freaking cocktail party.

Except one of the men wanted to steal her freedom and another—Roald—barely managed to be polite to her.

Still, that left her two allies, if Arne could be trusted. She’d been in worse situations.

She sipped her nectar, enjoying the little charge the sparkling liquid gave her.

Sindre waved one of the ever-smiling elves over. “Try the salmon tartare,” he said. “It was caught just this morning and prepared with lime sauce.”

The tartare was mounded on a tiny cracker.

The salmon’s fresh, raw scent made her cat salivate.

She practically inhaled the first one, and the king urged her to have another as more fae arrived, decked out in designer clothes and expensive jewelry.

The men ran their eyes over Marjani as if she were a T-bone for sale, and the women glanced knowingly from her to the king.

Marjani tightened her fingers around the goblet’s crystal stem, fighting the urge to bare her fangs at them.

A few feet away, Fane exchanged air kisses with a statuesque redhead in a tight black dress that barely covered her ass. “Viktorie. You’re looking beautiful, as always.”

“How kind of you to say so. And you, love?” The woman ran a possessive hand down his arm. “How have you been?”

Ha. And he says he doesn’t fit in.

Marjani clenched her teeth so hard it hurt.

Mine , hissed the cat. Mate.

No , she snapped back.

A tall blonde with skin a shade darker than Marjani’s ran practiced eyes over her dress. “I love that green. Is it a Favreau?”

She shrugged. “Hell if I know.”

“She’s a fae designer,” the blonde explained, a little too helpfully. “French.”

“It is.” Sindre touched the small of Marjani’s back. “Specially made for my guest.”

Another round of knowing looks was exchanged. Marjani set her jaw, the small pleasure she’d taken in the dress evaporating.

The blonde’s mouth curved. She smoothed a hand down her own outfit, a slinky gold number with cutout shoulders. “I knew it. I absolutely adored her spring collection.”

“I prefer Adèle myself,” a silver-haired woman interjected.

“Adèle?” The blonde waved her hand dismissively. “She’s so last year.” She glanced at Marjani. “Don’t you agree?”

She shrugged. “Never heard of her.”

The silver-haired fae’s look was pitying. “She’s a fada, you know. The animals don’t bother with fashion like us frivolous fae.”

Both women laughed.

Marjani flashed on Corban’s wasted body, and Luc, forced to accept the geas of one of these snobby females. She raised her chin and showed her teeth in a grin that had both women stepping back.

“No. I have better things to do.”

“Of course,” the blonde said hurriedly. With a muttered excuse, she and her friend slunk off to join another group.

“My sweet,” Sindre said in her ear, “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t terrorize the other guests.”

She gave him the same toothy smile. “It’s your fault for inviting an animal to dinner.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “We’d better keep you fed, then. Here, try the caviar.” He heaped a spoonful of shiny black eggs on a small round of bread and handed it to her.

She took a cautious bite. The briny flavor was unexpectedly good. “Not bad,” she allowed. “Tastes kind of like the sea.”

“Have another then.”

The man was definitely going all out for her. If she didn’t know he was a cold, scheming SOB, she might have even fallen for it. But she was hungry and she could travel a long way on a full belly, so she let him ply her with appetizers.

Fane had extricated himself from the redhead to chat with his father, but she sensed his growing tension—and hurt. It made her own shoulders tighten.

She sent him a pleading look and he shuttered his eyes. She let out a small sigh of relief until she realized the two of them were practically reading each other’s minds. And they were definitely sensing each other’s emotions…like mates did.

No. She deliberately gave him her back.

He didn’t like that. She felt his disbelief and agitation.

This is so not good.

Lord Roald joined Arne and Fane and they started a low-voiced conversation that no one but a fada could’ve picked up. She sipped her nectar and unashamedly eavesdropped as Sindre greeted another guest.

“I’ve been in talks with Lord Hamar,” Roald told Fane. “His daughter is interested in taking you as her consort.”

Marjani’s stomach constricted. From the corner of her eye, she saw Fane glance at the redhead in the black dress.

“Lady Viktorie?”

“That’s the one. A lovely woman, and strong. She’ll give you healthy children.”

Claws pricked at Marjani’s fingertips. Like hell.

“But what about the mate bond?” asked Arne.

Roald waved his hand. “Children will come as long as neither of them is bonded elsewhere. Fane has proven himself in that regard. There are no guarantees, but it’s likely.”

“It’s likely,” Fane repeated flatly. “And I’d be her consort, not her mate.”

“Of course,” said Roald. “You can’t expect a pureblood to offer you more.”

“Of course.”

“Naturally,” Roald added, “the offer is contingent on your becoming a full member of the court.”

Marjani gritted her teeth. She was happy for Fane, she was. This was it, the thing he’d spent six decades working toward—full acceptance in the ice fae court. He’d even be the consort of a fae lady.

And Marjani had told him herself that the two of them didn’t have a future. So why did she want to scratch out Lady Viktorie’s tip-tilted brown eyes?