Ryc has his own secrets to keep.
And refusing to raise a ward on my account would serve neitherof us.
No, the feeling is better left to wither in the dark.
One thing makes itself clear as we venture farther into the room: there are far too many bodies for this meeting to be solely Sovereign Kings. And before I accidentally find a pair of violet eyes capable of prying amid this nest of vipers, I search for Rowen.
He stands ahead, on the far side of the wide room, at the foot of the dais. Our eyes meet and he offers me the slightest smile and acknowledging nod. On his left, Tanila shifts, turning in our direction, and of course, she looks every bit the fae princess I expect.
Her eyes follow her father’s stare and meet mine.
Layered in skirts of dark green with a bodice-cinched waist, her waves of chestnut brown hair swing as she quickly steals her eyes away, turning back to her father. She was captivating the day I saw her in the South Ward.
Today, she’s stunning.
Rowen glances at his daughter as she says something too low for me to hear, and his jaw tightens. He gives her the tiniest shake of his head, dismissing whatever she’s said.
Another female, dressed in a slip of a dress of deep violet, approaches Tanila, reaching out to gingerly touch her elbow to gain Tanila’s attention. The princess turns, and a dazzling smile spreads across her face.
Violet. TheLightblossomfamily color.
The female is Ganus’ mate—the Sovereign Queen of Battalia.
Which means a few of the additional attendees areSovereign Queens. I should have asked more questions about them when I had the chance. Far too late now.
“Seems our seats have been chosen for us,” Fenryn says in a low whisper to me. He points with his chin toward the left.
Following his lead, four pairs of high-backed chairs line the left side of the forest green runner stretching through the center of the room. A male with flaming orange hair rises from the only occupied seat in the line.
Darin. The Sovereign King of Aeros.
Thanks to Lilith, I now know he’s the youngest member of theHigh Council at barely six and a half centuries old. He offers us the same lopsided smile I remember—albeit it’s much less bloodied now than it was last time we met. The king is much less likely to find himself at the receiving end of Ryc’s ire this go around.
The seat paired with Darin’s lies empty.
He has yet to find his mate.
The right side of the runner sits lined by the same number of chairs, fashioned in the same pairs, but there are more bodies on that side of the room. It’s clear both Ganus and Eloric have claimed seats somewhere in that line. It also becomes clear the runner serves as a proverbial line in the sand. One—we need at leastoneSovereign King to join on our side for this to end the way Ryc and I want.
“Which is Liran?” I whisper the question to Ryc.
“White hair, brown robes,” Ryc answers in kind. “His mate, Imera, sits behind him.”
With a quick sweep of the room, a head of white hair is all too easy to spot. He stands with a male clad in violet and my jaw tightens as my eyes race away.
He stands with Ganus.
Together they hover near the chairs farthest from the dais—across from Darin. A small surge of relief pulses through me.
I won’t be sitting directly across from Ganus.
At least there’s that.
Keeping my eyes fixed on Darin while we approach, my attention lies on the low whispers between Ganus and Liran. But with the abundance of louder conversations occurring, it’s impossible to hear much of what they’re saying.
Daring to glance over my shoulder as we pass the pair, cloudy white, unseeing eyes meet mine and pierce through me.
Is he blind?
