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It was a pain in the ass to carry everywhere, but she kinda loved the stupid thing.

Staring down the Unseelie King, Ava lifted her head. “I am afraid I must politely decline your choice of attendants, King Valroy. ”

He watched her, expression unreadable.

Silence hung in the air, thick and tense.

She didn’t know if Valroy could kill her. She didn’t particularly want to figure out what someone like him could do to her. Yadda, yadda, wish for death, and so on.

Once more, the Unseelie King defied her expectations.

His expression split into a wide, feral smile.

And he applauded.

As did the rest of the Din’Glai.

Nobody looked quite as entertained as Lysander, however.

“Beautiful wife, would you send that irritating botfly of yours to discern precisely where and perhaps even when the Weaver has sent him?” Valroy was laughing through his words. “I believe he might be the only thing capable of the task.”

Abigail was watching Ava with an amused but wary expression. Clearly, she was pleased with what Ava had done—but perhaps more concerned than most that she’d been able to do it at all. “I will see if I can procure Goodfellow’s attention. Hopefully, it is not too late.”

“I doubt the Weaver has murdered them.” Valroy was still chuckling. “But now we truly have something to celebrate, my Unseelie. For you see precisely what manner of power has joined our ranks. The night is young!”

With a gesture, the music resumed, louder and wilder than before. The courtiers took the hint, dispersing back into dancing, drinking, and the various other…indulgences of the revel. Many were smiling at her, and a few were trying to call her over to join in.

Nope.

Pass.

Not in the mood, sorry.

Total betrayal didn’t really spark it for her.

Ava stood frozen, torn between the urge to scream and the desperate need to maintain some semblance of dignity before the watching court .

Suddenly, she didn’t even want to talk to Valroy about whatever he knew about the truth of the Web. She knew that was all by design.

Shaking her head, she turned to head back toward her room. She wanted to go find a bottle of strong alcohol and drink it in the extremely large and elegant tub.

Alone.

Lysander seemed to have other plans. He stepped close to her, his hand at her elbow. “Must you go? That is precisely what they expect.”

He was right, she knew. But she didn’t know what else she was capable of. “Either I’m going to have a drunken breakdown here, or I’m going to have a drunken breakdown in the privacy of my room. I’d rather do it in in private when I’m not wearing a glorified Goth BDSM outfit.”

He blinked. “A what?”

“Never mind.” She sighed. She didn’t need to be mad at him.

It wasn’t his fault, as far as she could tell.

“Lysander, I’m going to say this right here, right now.

I’m not fucking you tonight. Or tomorrow night.

Or maybe ever. I don’t know. So if that’s all you’re after, I’m sorry, you can cut your losses now.

Things are too complicated right now and I just had—” Her voice locked up as a rock wedged itself in her throat.

He picked up her hand in his, once more lifting it to his lips to place a kiss to her knuckles. “You are surviving. And that is more than many could profess. You put on a display of not only power, but strength. And those are two very different things.”

She hated that his words made her feel just the tiniest bit better.

“And whether or not you choose to lay with me?” He shrugged. “I will not say that I do not desire you. Who would not? However, this may come as a surprise,”—there was that lopsided, cheeky smile—“but I seem to also enjoy your company.”

“Now I know you’re bullshitting me.” She rolled her eyes.

“Mm.” He poked her on the end of her nose with one of his pointed nails. “You say that as a joke, but I think you are you telling me a bit of what you believe to be true. ”

“Whatever.” This is why she hated flirting with people. It let them in. And she hated it when people got in. “I’m going to find a bottle of alcohol and get drunk in my room.”

He looked excited.

“Alone,” she reiterated.

The way his expression fell was so comical that it actually made her laugh.

Not much. And not for long. But it did. “Fuck you.” She started walking back toward the direction of her room. She hoped that the Din’Glai—the building, not the people—was arranged in the same way every time, and not like the Web.

“What? Why? What did I do?” It wasn’t hard for him to catch up with her with his long legs. “Are you upset that I cheered you up, even for just a moment?”

“Yes.”

“You humans are just utterly confounding sometimes.” He puffed out a breath. “You seek happiness yet wallow in misery like pigs.”

“Y’know, I’ve heard we taste like pigs. But that we also taste horrible. Something about how sharks won’t eat us.” She wrinkled her nose. “I guess you people would actually know, huh?”

“I do not know, but I could ask someone who does, if you are curious. I have never tasted human. Well. Not human meat anyway.” There was that flirty smile again. “Unless you are counting the metaphor for?—”

“Augh!” She shoved him. “Stop.”

“I thought you said you were not so very prudish.” He tugged on his suit coat to straighten it. “Here I see you misled me.”

“No, I’m just trying to wallow in the fact that the three people that I thought were my friends betrayed me, thank you. I don’t need to get distracted by the mental image of you going down on some guy.”

“Does it bother you?” Lysander tucked his hands into the pockets of his coat.

“The mental image or the betrayal?” She smirked. “I pretty much figured out all y’all fae swing every direction there is, so. X, Y, and Z axis.”

“Swing every…” He squinted at her. “Oh! Oh. I see what you mean. Yes.” He cackled. “That we do. Often several at once.”

“So it seemed from the party. And some directions I think I just realized existed.”

Silence stretched between them.

And she realized precisely why he had been keeping her talking and joking. Distracted. Damn him for being good at his job of trying to cheer her up.

Because waiting for her, lurking there, in the silence?

Was the grief of it all.

“They betrayed me.” All of them. Even Bitty, to a certain extent.

“Yes.” Lysander didn’t attempt to soften the truth. “And just as others will, in order to use you. They will betray you to control you. It is the nature of our kind.”

“Including you.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. But it sounded more vulnerable than she’d intended.

His amber eyes met hers, serious despite his usual playfulness. “I have my own reasons for interest in you, Ava Cole. I won't insult you by pretending otherwise.”

The honesty was refreshing, even if it wasn't particularly comforting.

They reached her room. “Are you certain you wish to be alone?” Lysander hesitated. “I mean that in the most harmless way possible, I promise you.”

“Right.” She chuckled before letting out a quiet sigh. “Yeah. I want to be alone.”

“As you wish.” Lysander kissed the back of her hand again. “Goodnight, Lady Ava. I hope, given all that has transpired…you are allowed to sleep well.”

The words were heavy with truth. Because Serrik was still waiting for her .

“Goodnight, Lysander. And I can’t say the words, but, your company was very much appreciated. And enjoyed.”

That put a seemingly genuine and warm smile on his face. He bowed. “That is a great payment in return, Lady Ava. I will see you on the morrow.”

Shutting the door, she locked it. She also locked the door between hers and Bitty’s rooms. She wanted to be alone—for what little time she could enjoy it.

She drew a hot bath in the thing that was the size of a hot tub more than a bath, got herself a bottle of maybe-mead-hopefully-not-hard-alcohol from a bar-looking thing by the wall, and settled in for a good long cry in the hot water.

Betrayal stung fresh and sharp in her chest, but beneath it was something deeper, more complicated—the dawning realization that in this world of ancient powers and immortal games, perhaps there were no true allies.

No friends. Only varying degrees of enemies, all with their own agendas and designs on her growing power.

And never had it made her feel more alone in her life.

And she thought she’d been alone before.

If the Web didn't consume her humanity, perhaps Tir n'Aill would.