Chapter 1
I tug on my disgustingly rounded ears in irritation and invoke that moronic technique of counting to ten. But if Uncle Filip doesn’t drop this line of questioning, I swear to Gorok I’ll impale his wrinkled hand with my fork.
“Will you come home?” he prods, with the exhausting relentlessness of an Argos ghoul—or even a bridge troll. Though slightly more intelligent.
“You know very well,” I say flatly, slicing my pancakes into tiny pieces. Outside, the lake laps against the stone foundation of the estate, each gentle wave tapping in that calm, steady rhythm I used to love. “I don’t live there anymore.”
I have no right to call that castle my home. Not since the Passing Ceremony two years ago. Yet he doesn’t get it, I don’t know why. Anyone with a scrap of empathy would.
“It will always be your home, Seleste,” he hesitates, but speaks anyway. “I… I even ordered a redecoration of the throne room so you wouldn’t recognise it. It won’t be that bad.”
“Redecoration?” I echo. “You think new tapestries and shiny floors will cover the… horror that happened there?”
He shakes his head, letting out a long, exasperated sigh, as if I were the one being unreasonable, but lets the matter rest and moves on to another equally irritating question.
“After everything, you couldn’t even bother to show up for Samira and Nulok’s mating ceremony.” He leans forward, the edge of his charcoal scarf almost brushing his plate. “Why? Tell me. Help me understand you.”
I am ashamed to admit that my hands tremble as I push the pieces of pancake around my plate. The syrup glistens and pools, tempting me to soak them, but I resist. I can’t eat while he keeps torturing me.
“You were at Jestin’s court in Santorili for days, Seleste. You attended six feasts in their honour. You helped choose the gilded banners and flowered arches, and you spent Samira’s Last Alone Night with her—a final night to speak with those she trusted before her permanent bond. You promised to be her witness, in the temple, before Gorok himself.”
I almost flinch. Almost. But I keep still, biting my tongue. I just have to endure his tirade. Then he’ll resolve my gold issue, and I can crawl back to my hotel room.
How hard can it be?
He leans back and adjusts his scarf around his neck, the worn fabric twisting with the movement, betraying a nervous habit. “And then… you vanished. Samira and Nulok waited. The high priest was furious. Guests had travelled across the Queendom just to see you, and gossip spread through the halls like ink seeping through parchment. Why abandon them at the last moment, after all that effort?”
I cross my legs under the table, my knee knocking against the edge, and cringe, biting back a curse.
To soothe myself, I let my gaze wander around Uncle Filip’s recently purchased lakeside estate. I own two myself, though one is completely trashed. If he doesn’t help me gain access to my vault, I’ll probably have to sell it.
“I left because I couldn’t stay. End of story.” I throw my fork a little too forcefully, the clatter on the plate louder than Iintended. I reach for my glass of Fae wine and down half of it in one gulp, letting the familiar burn scorch my throat.
Fuck.
Finally, some relief.
He frowns, eyes narrowing. “Drinking isn’t a solution, child. You can’t keep using wine to escape.”
I snort, my mind clouded by the blissful curtain. “Escaping? There is no escaping. It only helps me function. And anyway, that is not your business, Uncle.”
I gulp the wine, letting it loosen my shoulders, unclench my jaw and slow the frantic carousel of my thoughts.
I rotate my shoulders, finally believing I can survive this dinner and achieve what I came here for.
He exhales sharply. “You need to get yourself together, Seleste. You can’t keep abandoning everyone every time it gets hard.”
I meet his gaze, the glass halfway empty. “Can’t I? Who else in Hanovel has a higher rank than me?” I laugh, annoyed with myself for letting him rattle me, for explaining myself. Still, I offer one more truth. “And maybe this,” I gesture vaguely at the wine, “is the only way I get through it without losing what’s left of my mind.”
“It’s been almost two years since they’ve been gone.” His voice is weighted with a weariness I rarely hear from him. “Are you coming home for the memorial, Seleste?”
I stiffen, feeling the weight of his words press down on my chest.
The memorial.
“Are you serious?” I murmur under my breath. “Do you honestly think I could just waltz back as if nothing happened?”
He doesn’t flinch at my tone, but his hands tighten around his glass. “Seleste, you can’t keep running forever. They wereyour family. You owe them—no, you owe yourself—this chance to remember them.”
