Music and laughter echo from the streets of the market as we head towards the secret tunnels, and one question lingers at the edge of my thoughts; what kind of High Queen cannot walk among her own folks without fear of assassination?
A pathetic one.
We arrived through secret tunnels with a bit of spare time to change before the Banquet, but I was determined to waste some of this on overthinking.
A stunning green dress hangs on my dresser. All cashmere. It must have cost a fortune. A note reads, “Happy Solstice, My Lady. With adoration, General Riven.”
I read it over and over, so many times that my insides turn to mush. Should I wear it? Will it give him the wrong idea? Will it even matter? I hate political skirmishes. I always read too much into nothing, or not enough, and end up looking like a fool.
Even so, I follow my stupid heart and slip into the dress. The fabric hugs my body like a second skin, and the first time I see myself in the mirror, I’m certain I look royal.
I make my way to the ballroom.
The banquet of smells hits me the moment I enter. I approach the long table with determination, intent on trying absolutely everything.
Jestin hasn’t spared any expense.
Santorili’s cooks must be enhancing the food with Faerie dust. Jestin has never admitted it, but it’s the only explanation for how good the food is here.
“At least you’re very easy to please. A pack of chocolate and you’re ecstatic,” Aidon says, leaning back in his chair and swirling the wine in his glass.
“A pack of chocolates?” Jestin smirks from his left, one brow arched. He traces the rim of his fork along the plate. “You’llspend your life’s fortune and it won’t be enough to satisfy Seleste.”
“I will buy plenty,” Aidon smiles, clinking his glass lightly.
I raise a brow. Is he noble? I don’t smell any familiar blood. “What’s your full name again?”
Aidon bows slightly. “I am Aidon Draconis.”
I startle, my fork hovering midair. Jestin shifts in his seat, eyes flicking between us. Aidon leans back, a half-smile tugging at his lips, and I feel the weight of his name settle across the table.
“Does your dad let you leave your borders?” Jestin finally asks, leaning back just enough to study Aidon’s reaction.
“Nah, I ran away,” he chuckles and makes a hushing gesture.
I laugh, while Jestin shakes his head in disbelief and raises to address the table. He is wearing a heavy red cloak, reaching all the way to his knuckles.
Why don’t I look as royal as he does?
“Fellow brothers and sisters, let’s show Gorok how fearless our hearts are. As the last day of the summer solstice, I want each of you to reflect on what you plan to do for the rest of the year.” Jestin’s gaze flicks over me, and it presses against me like a weight. “Think, dream, prepare! But for now? Let’s celebrate, friends—the final night!”
The Fae erupt with cheers, glasses clinking across the table. Laughter ripples through the hall as the musicians strike up a lively tune, filling the air with music and energy.
I relax, letting the music wash over me, noting that Aidon has left the table and forcing myself not to sulk. But Jestin’s voice cuts through the haze. “I have something special for you.”
He leans towards me, close enough that my pulse spikes at the memory of our night. He raises a bottle to my nose, and I inhale a strong, otherworldly aroma of the ghoul wine.
Rare and forbidden.
“What kind of deal?” I lower my tone, judging how immoral it is.
“Nothing bad.” He shrugs, a dance of a smile on his lips. “Protection for his mate. He was let out without killing.”
Okay, it was fair.
Farming ghouls is considered cannibalistic. They’re an intelligent race.
Worse, if King Marcelo found out we’d made wine from his subject, war would be guaranteed.
