His thumb began to rub small circles across her skin, and Thyra swallowed, disliking how her head and her instincts warred.
“My turn.” He put them both out of the awkward situation and broke the connection. “I’ve got something I’ve been dying to ask.”
“Have at it.”
“What are you and Isolde going to do if our side wins the war? Have you decided who will sit on the throne?”
Her stomach plummeted. They had not. They avoided that discussion. And it didn’t feel right speaking with Thantrel about it before Thyra and her twin worked things out.
“Pass.”
“Alright then,” Thantrel mused. Perhaps he’d even expected her denial. “Do you have smaller magics?”
Besides her winter and shadow magics, he meant. As he’d been there when King Érebo unlocked her shadow magic, he wasn’t being coy. Just keeping a secret in a public place. She appreciated the subtlety from a male who was anything but subtle.
“I do. The powers appeared about a turn back, and I haven’t developed the ability, but I’m a dreamer.”
“Being a dreamer is unique.”
Dreamers were like seers, but they saw visions only in their sleep. And the visions were difficult to differentiate from regular dreams. It had taken Thyra many moons to have a paltry three visions, and only after the third did she realize visions were shiny whereas normal dreams were not. Since she’d understood that distinction, she hadn’t had a single vision.
She shrugged. “I can’t control it. Maybe if I’d grown up in Frostveil and had the best tutors, things would be different, but none of the rebels could help.”
“You should talk to Saga.”
“Isolde doesn’t even know yet. I’ll wait until I tell her.”
“Why haven’t you told her?”
She smirked. “I’ll give you that one for free. I’m sure this won’t come as a surprise, but I despise being bad at things. Best to not mention it unless I can control it.”
“Should have known.”
She scoffed. “Are you quite done?”
“I await your final question.” He leaned forward again, filling her nostrils with the scent that sent her heart racing, and then and there, Thyra changed her question. Perhaps changed the course of the kingdom.
“Do you want to kiss me?” she blurted out.
His torso stiffened. “Is that a joke?”
“Not the best decision, considering what Isolde and I agreed to with Lord Balik, but I don’t care.”
“What agreement?”
Fates she’d done it. She hadn’t meant to mention the intricacies of the alliance, but tonight might be her only chance to feel something similar to what her sister had. An enviable partnership. One any fae would long for.
“Lord Balik wishes for me to marry Sian Balik. Or for someone in the next generation of Falks to wed into his line.” She left out the accepting her mate part. It made things too complicated when sheshouldwed a Balik. That she shouldn’t pass this responsibility on to another generation when she’d been the one to make the deal.
Thantrel chuckled. “You’re aware that Sian prefers males, right?”
Her lips parted. Was that what Lord Balik meant by his son having preferences? She’d thought that maybe he loved a mistress at court, and Thyra had not cared to explore the matter further.
“I did not.”
“He has a pact with Sayyida Virtoris to wed her and do their duty to their houses. Once that’s done, they can explore their pleasures as they wish.”
“Oh.” Her heart fluttered. “Well, in that case, I don’t feel bad about asking you my question. But I wonder, will you ever answer?”
