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CHAPTER NINE

T ristan couldn’t get visions of those wounded Fae in Lodesvale out of his head.

They drowned out nearly everything else, save for the ever-present longing in his chest for Cassandra. He wanted to solve the two problems simultaneously: save his love and his people.

Behind him, Ione banged around her kitchen chopping herbs, stirring pots, and softly cursing. She’d always been a mess while cooking. Far messier than Tristan. But somehow, her culinary sorcery always won out in the end.

Though as the bitter scent of burnt onions wafted, he thought perhaps he shouldn’t judge anything yet.

As soon as they’d returned, Ione had invited him to dine with her. After everything she’d done for him, it didn’t feel right to refuse. He’d offered to help her cook, but she’d insisted with something like hope crawling through her eyes.

Tristan hadn’t commented on it.

Hadn’t commented on anything since she’d rescued him. At least, nothing personal. Beside a few lingering looks and overly familiar touches on her part, things between them had been nothing but professional. And while Tristan was inclined to keep it that way, he had a feeling he was about to discover her true intentions.

He was more tense now than he’d been in that cell beneath the Vicereine’s palace.

“Are you sure you don’t want any help?” he offered over his shoulder.

“I’m fine!” she called back, cursing again. “Almost ready!”

Outside her window, the setting sun cast bands of gold and salmon across the vine-covered buildings. A softly cleared throat tore Tristan from the view, and he turned to see Ione standing by the table, two tapered candles flickering shadows across the feast she’d laid out.

“Dinner is served,” she said quietly, tucking a strand of honey hair behind her ear and untying her apron. “Pour us some drinks while I change? Be right back.”

Ione slipped down the hall and up the stairs to her bedroom while Tristan began perusing her wine rack.

For a rebel base in the middle of the jungle, she had quite a selection—buttery whites from the coasts of Akti, plummy burgundies from the hills of Nephes, and even a few sweet, fortified wines from the southern human colonies.

He looked toward the table, saw that Ione had prepared seafood, and selected a bottle of white. He popped the cork, then glugged out two glasses and placed them next to the opulent spread.

Ione had gone all out.

On a platter surrounded by roast potatoes and thick stalks of asparagus, an entire silvery-scaled fish peered up at him through a glassy eye. Next to it, an ice-filled plate held six oysters on the half-shell, a mignonette of shallots and vinegar floating atop the creamy flesh.

Tristan swallowed his discomfort. There was no way the oysters hadn’t been a deliberate choice. Not only were they a known aphrodisiac, but they’d certainly come from Vaengya, the small colonial town where Ione’s human parents had lived before journeying to the continent to work for Tristan’s mother, Empress Mila.

They were also the source of that pearl ring Tristan had given to Ione lifetimes ago.

He took a gulping sip of wine, and then nearly choked on it as Ione returned from her room. Her freshly-brushed hair cascaded down her shoulders in two shining, golden sheets, and she’d changed into what looked more like a slip than a dress. As she approached the table, the sage-green silk shifted, barely held in place by two thin straps.

Certainly not an outfit one would wear for dinner with a mere colleague.

Amatu fucking save him.

He couldn’t deny that she looked beautiful. She always had. And now as Fae, she was downright staggering. Any other male would’ve crashed to his knees and begged to worship at her feet.

But he’d rather be dining with someone else.

“Shall we?” Ione demurred, taking her seat and sliding three oysters onto each of their plates. She raised one toward him, a silent toast, and he did the same before tipping the shell to his lips and swallowing. The briny liquid combined with the acidic mignonette and sweet, creamy oyster was divine. But he’d expect nothing less from the woman who’d taught him to cook.

They finished the appetizer in silence, then helped themselves to the fish. He tried not to squirm. She was awfully silent since she’d laid this trap.

He broke first. “So…what’s with all this?”

Ione cocked a pale brow, wrapping her lips around a piece of flaky white fish. She chewed softly, then swallowed. “What’s with all what?”

Tristan sat back, swirling his wine. “The meal. The candles. The, uh, dress? I assume you’re trying to seduce me.”

Ione laughed, a pleasant tinkle. “As if such a thing were possible. Your heart is occupied elsewhere, is it not?”

“Yes.”

She knew it was. He didn’t want to talk about Cassandra with her. Wished she would let it go.

She didn’t, of course.

“Why her?”

Genuine curiosity, maybe even a speck of disbelief, laced Ione’s tone. She twirled the stem of her wine glass and Tristan glanced at her fingers. Short, scrubbed nails and rough, reddened knuckles. A warrior’s hands.

Though this was a very different type of battle.

“Because she sees every part of me,” he answered. “The good, the bad, and the messy. And embraces it without judgment. I feel the same about her. Our fragments fit together.”

A sad smile crept onto Ione’s lips. “You might have said the same thing about us once.”

“Is that how love works then? She needs to possess some skill or attribute you don’t so you can rationalize why I’d choose her over you?” Weeks of pent-up frustration shot for the closest target. “This isn’t a meritocracy, Ione. I love her. I belong to her. And I always will.”

They were silent for a few moments as the weight of his words washed over her. To her credit, she seemed to take it in stride, sipping her wine and tracing circles on the tablecloth, no hint of hurt or sadness on her face.

After a moment, he asked, “Has there been no one else for you in all this time? I find that extremely difficult to believe.”

She let out a breathy little laugh. “I certainly wasn’t celibate. I had my fun. Made my mistakes. But there’s been no one important.”

Just fucking say it , he silently begged. If she still wanted him, was angling to rekindle their affair, he was on edge waiting for her to come out with it. She was so outspoken everywhere else. High Gods, even when they were younger she used to boss him around the kitchen.

But the Ione he’d known had always been careful with her softer feelings. Back in Delos, she’d loved him in secret for just as long as he’d loved her. It was only when he’d finally confessed his feelings that she’d admitted to her own.

At the time, he’d chalked it up to fear. She’d been a human in love with a Fae. And not just any Fae—the Imperial Heir to the Crystal Throne of Ethyrios.

But they were both Fae now. “What do you want from me?”

She released a heavy sigh, then crossed her arms on the table. “It’s not about what I want. It’s about what the Goddess wants.”

He recoiled, trying to keep the shock off his face. “What are you talking about?”

“Have you heard the prophecy?”

Tristan nodded. “Ronin told me. When he was trying to recruit me. On your behalf, I’m assuming. Why didn’t you come down yourself? I’ve been wondering ever since you rescued me.”

“Because you needed to make the decision on your own. And I needed to know if you still believed in your vision for this world. I didn’t want…” She looked up toward the ceiling, tears staining her lower lashes. “ Two futures sown, one future known. Born from phantom wings and mortal bones, a new Delphine will rise. ”

She recaptured his gaze, awaiting his interpretation of the lines.

He’d been considering them since the moment he’d heard them in the Serpent’s Den.

Ione prodded, “Two futures sown into one. Yours and mine. Your love Turned me into the Delphine, Tristan. And it’s our love that will save this world.”

She said it with such certainty that a headache began to form behind his eyeballs.

“ A new Delphine will rise to … ” Tristan insisted, knowing she’d left out a word. “No one knows the other half of the prophecy. Except maybe my brother, considering the Compendium’s been kept within the palace for centuries.”

“I don’t need to know the other half,” Ione said, wrapping her fingers around his. It took all his willpower not to recoil from her touch. “I know you think you love her, but she cannot be who the Goddess has intended for you. She is human . What’s the point of promising yourself to her when you know you’ll lose her?”

Tristan scoffed. “Would you have said the same about yourself two hundred years ago?” Had Ione washed her humanity away that easily?

“You may have already lost her.”

Anger throbbed through his veins. He broke her gaze, gulping his wine and staring out the window.

“Tristan,” she said, voice gentle, “you have a soft heart. It’s what drew me to you in the first place. But sometimes, even a soft heart needs to make a hard decision. Would you truly choose a single mortal woman over the lives of everyone in Ethyrios? Because that is what will happen if you deny the Goddess’s will. It may be painful for you, but imagine everything this world could gain.” She dipped her head, stroking her fingers over his knuckles. “And would it really be so terrible? To learn to love me again?”

She knew exactly where to hit him—right in his guilt—to silence his protests. The corner of her lip curled, as if she knew the blow she’d landed.

“There’s no need to make any decisions right now,” she said, as if she hadn’t just asked him to rip his fucking heart out and offer it to her on a platter. She sat back and closed her eyes, folding her palms across her chest. “We ask the Creator for guidance and safety, and that she may bestow her wisdom upon us.”

His mind was swirling with everything Ione had said. Everything she’d claimed. When he’d decided to join the Teles Chrysos, to fight for his birthright, he never imagined it would come at such a cost.

Ione rose and began clearing plates. He grabbed her wrist to halt her.

“Let me,” he said, rising from his chair. “You cooked, I’ll clean. It’s only fair.”

Ione nodded. “I’ll only say one more thing tonight. You need to consider her feelings as well. How fair would it be for you to keep her, for you to stay young and healthy while she grows old and frail? For her to know you will live lifetimes after her? Do you really want to subject her to that heartache?”

He knew it was cruel, but he couldn’t help asking the question. “And what if I Turned her?”

Ione, Goddess bless her, didn’t even flinch. “That’s not possible.”

“Why not?”

“Adelphinae would not allow it. She would have to bless your union. And she has already blessed ours. I wouldn’t be in this body if she hadn’t. I would not be the Delphine.”

Tristan turned to his task as Ione slipped away from the table. He needed to pull himself together, needed to get some rest. Which, at the moment, felt like an impossibility.

And he certainly didn’t feel like arguing with Ione anymore this evening. So he’d play along.

For now.

But he wanted that Compendium. Needed to hear the other half of that prophecy.

Needed to learn what consequences the ancient book might reveal for his anxious heart.