“Rowen should have made better choices,” Eve replies. Light blazes across her eyes from the window as she glances at me. She lifts a hand to block it, grimacing with the motion. “Maybe he wouldn’t find himself in situations where the god of death is hunting him.”
“Defending Rowen from the repercussions of his choices is the last thing I think he deserves,” I say, heaving a sigh. “But Tanila doesn’t deserve to be punished for her father’s actions.”
Eve’s brows lift before she turns her face forward, unable to bear the light. “I doubt she would grant you the same kindness, Ves.”
“What makes you think I plan on letting her forget it?” I retort and she laughs.
Swinging right, we enter the hall leading to the breakfast parlor. The light here is much less intense, and Eve turns her attention to the windows, to the view of the lawn. Wind pulls more of the colorful leaves from the trees, scattering them on the grass and carrying them into the courtyard beyond the curtain wall. Autumn continues to press itself upon the land, forcing summer to leave.
“I’m glad I’ll never swear to serve a crown,” Eve says with a scoffed huff. “I don’t need demons like you holding deeds against me.”
“You’re a little late for that,” I quip and she jabs me in the ribs with an elbow. Our laughter trails through the hall.
Eve, while in Ryc’s employ, isn’t considered an official member of the Royal Guard—despite having all the same access and privileges of one. Ryc offered, she refused. She won’t take the pledge to serve the Witherhorn family.
I can’t say I blame her.
Should Druka ever release her from her contract, she won’t be beholden to Erus. Or anyone for that matter.
Unweaving her arm from mine, Eve steps ahead, pulling open the door to the parlor. She holds it open, giving me a wink as I walk through.
And my steps slow…
The parlor has beenfilledwith flowers.
And… not Olloran flowers.
Confused, I wander farther into the room.
These are bright and vivid andloud. They threaten to consume the room. White lilies, along with orange and yellow trumpeted flowers I can’t name. Bold and broad deep green leaves pull everything together, carpeting the center of the long breakfast table. I’m reminded of the desert oasis of Solis, of the veranda gardens and white-washed stone and flowing fountains throughout the fae city.
If this is a bouquet, it’s the largest I’ve seen.
“What’s the occasion?” Eve mutters low beside me.
Lilith’s hazel eyes and crimson hair pop up from behind a slitted leaf twice the size of her head.
“Good morn!” she sings with an enthusiastic wave.
I stifle my groan.
Eve does not.
Lilith is brighter than usual today. Which means breakfast is going to consist of me sitting between two prickling personalities.
“Good morn, Lilith,” I reply, unable to match her enthusiasm and my attempt at a warm smile doesn’t quite hit the mark. It feels a lot more like a grimace.
Dragging Eve by her elbow, I approach the table.
“What is all this?” I ask.
“A gift,” Lilith chimes. “Flowers from Solis.”
I was right then.
The smallest, sharpest pinch of jealousy plucks at my heart.
“Who’s sending Ryc flowers?” I ask, stopping at the end of the table to admire one of the lilies.
