Caught off guard, I falter, stumbling over my words. “I– I . . . “ I glance at Zaria, confused by the sudden scrutiny. “Yes?” I manage to answer, unsure if that was the right thing to say.
The male fae, who is staring at me with an air of detached superiority, tilts his head slightly, his nostrils flaring ever so subtly. “I heard the druids could communicate with nature spirits and other species,” he remarks, his voice cool and aloof. “But I’ve never witnessed it firsthand.”
His nose lifts higher as he speaks, as if he’s trying to distance himself from the concept, like the very idea of communicating with something as wild and untamed as nature’s spirits is beneath him.
I squint my eyes at him, my annoyance bubbling to the surface. I don’t like his tone, the way he saysdruidsas if we’re some sort of disgrace.
“Yes, communicating has never been an issue for me,” I reply, lifting my chin slightly in return.
There’s an arrogant curl to his mouth that makes my lips twitch to say something more, but I bite my tongue, knowing this isn’t the time to pick a fight.
Alivar steps forward then. “Come now, Uncle. No need to be jealous,” he teases.
The man splutters, his brow furrowing. “Jealous!”
Alivar ignores him entirely and steps forward, bowing deeply, his hand extending toward mine as he rises. His fingers are warm as they curl around mine, and he places a gentle kiss on the back of my hand. Instantly, my cheeks flush, and Zaria’s words echo in my mind.
“Princess,” he says smoothly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Alivar,” I reply, mirroring his smirk, but not letting my guard slip.
The sound of several gasps cut through the moment, loudest from the two high fae women standing by the queen.
What have I done now?
“How dare you address the Crown Prince so casually,” one of them snaps, her voice dripping with indignation,
Alivar turns toward them, unbothered. “It’s okay, Aunt. We are friends, aren’t we, Everly?” His eyes gleam with amusement, as if he’s daring me to contradict him.
Keeping my focus on Alivar, I nod slowly. If I met any of their eyes, I’d probably lose whatever calm I’d managed to gather.
“Yes,” I reply, clearing my throat. “Friends.”
Queen Anwyn steps closer, her presence imposing, and Alivar reluctantly releases my hand.
“We haven’t been formally introduced,” she begins, her voice carrying the weight of authority. “I am Queen Anwyn of the Seelie Fae.”
My mind scrambles as I quickly sink into a curtsy, hoping this is the proper etiquette. Nolan should have been here to handle introductions—and to prepare me for . . . well, all of this.
Rising, I muster a polite smile, despite the heat rising to my cheeks. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.” I meet her gaze. “Though better circumstances would have been preferred.”
I’m about to introduce Zaria, but she has taken several steps back to stand almost in line with Lutin and Senka, and has her head bowed.
“It is just terrible what happened to the former queen, and to think the king was taken from his own court. Do you have plans to–”
“Mother, now isn’t the time to talk about this. We should get in the carriage,” Alivar smoothly cuts in.
The second those words leave his mouth, Malick stops beside me. “Your Majesty, the carriages are ready.”
Alivar’s lips curl into a smirk as he winks at me, a flash of mischief in his eyes before he turns, extending his arm to Queen Anwyn. “Come, Mother, we mustn’t keep the dead waiting any longer.”
I watch them go, my gaze tracking the small group of seelie fae as they make their way toward the carriages. Zaria steps up beside me, her expression inscrutable as she keeps her eyes fixed on the retreating figures. There’s an unspoken tension in the air, a senseof wariness that seems to ripple through everyone present. Lutin and Senka shift slightly, their bodies tense, as if they want to keep the seelie in their line of sight, alert to any sudden movements.
Finally, I spot Kian and Tristan as they approach, leading two horses behind them. Their expressions are blank, the usual warmth in their eyes replaced by a cold alertness.
“Where are Storm and Nova?” I ask, frowning as I take in the horses they lead.
Kian and Tristan trade a look—one of those silent exchanges that tells me they’ve already decided something without my input.
