“They believe you have come to save us.” At the soft words, my head jerks to Petyr. His head tilts once more. “Have you come to save us from our punishment, Selene Amaris?”
Callan’s eyes are on us, the chatter from the crowd covering our conversation as Petyr leans in to hear my response.
I wet my lips. “Do you deserve to be saved?”
His smile grows larger, and yet I sense coolness from him. “Perhaps that remains to be seen. I have heard many things about Hala’s faeytes. Would you be willing to offer us a demonstration?”
As his voice raises, the hall grows quiet. Eyes turn to me. “A demonstration?”
He gestures with his hand. “You read fates, do you not? An interesting talent. I would like to see it.”
My spine pulls straighter. I know better than to confess that I don’t know how. But regardless, my answer would be the same. “A reading is only done in private, and not for entertainment.”
He clicks his tongue. “Not even as a favor? A gesture of goodwill?”
Fire stokes in my stomach at his assumption. “Perhaps you should reconsider who between us is owed a gesture of goodwill.”
Shocked inhales sweep the room. Callan pushes between us, his words abrupt. “I’ll find Selene somewhere to stay.”
Silence. And then a brief, dismissive chuckle. “We have plenty of space. Take your pick.”
When Callan shifts, Petyr looks between us. An amused huff sounds in his throat. “I’ll entrust our guest to your tender care, then, brother. Join us for dinner, will you?”
Callan barely nods before wrapping his hand around my arm. He nudges me toward the door at the back of the hall—the door that Nyx and Celeste pushed me through ten years ago. The auburn-haired woman in the second throne watches me in silence as I pass, although a small smile plays around her mouth. There’s no sign of the male from the shadows at all.
Callan wheels on me as soon as the door closes behind us, enclosing us in the long hall so familiar that it burns the back of my eyes. Sol and Matthias stand on either side of him, their arms folded.
“Don’t,” I snap, before any of them can. “I am not a show for their amusement. If you wish for my help, you’ll not treat me as one.”
“I know that.” Bronze eyes sear me. Any hint of the root is gone, worn off, Callan’s cheeks flushed with healthy color as he gestures. “We know that. But gods—tread carefully, Selene.”
“It was foolish,” Sol snaps.
“It wasbrave,” Matthias interrupts. Sol turns to him, his expression incredulous. Matthias lifts his eyes to the white ceiling high above us, interrupted by dark, carved wooden beams that appear every few feet ahead as if asking for patience. “She cannot show them any fear, Sol. The court will pounce on her, trying to wield any connection for favors and power. Seleneis new, unusual, beautiful, and potentially holds the power to save us all. What an enthralling combination. They’ll respect a strong spine far more than a meek mouse, and she will need to show it to hold her own.”
Callan’s head whips to Matthias. His snapped response is furious. “Those vultures won’t be getting anywhere near her.”
“You won’t have a say.” Matthias points angrily at the door we just exited. “This is Petyr’s arena. His chessboard, and we are the pieces. Selene can be a pawn, or she can be a queen. Gods, Callan. You were raised in this—you know I’m right. But this isn’t the place—”
“Stop talking about me as if I’m not even here,” I snap. Gods, I’m tired. They all fall silent. Mattias murmurs an apology.
“I don’t care what it was,” I say finally. “And I do not care if anyone in that room respects me, or how they view me.”
“Petyr does not always welcome the truth,” Callan says abruptly. “Matthias is right about one thing. These are politics, Selene. You learn to play the game, or you will lose.”
I have no wish to play their games. “I have already lost,” I say frostily.
I shove past them all. The three of them chase me down the hall, their discussion continuing in hissed mutters that I blank out.
“Selene,” Callan calls. “Where are you going?”
My feet almost stumble. “To—”
I come to a stop without turning back, my shoulders tight. To my surprise, the male that slips an arm around my shoulders is not Callan. Matthias squeezes lightly. “Do you want to show us where it is?”
“What?”
“Your room,” he says gently. “We can check, if you’d prefer to stay there.”
