“I see.” I pluck a bright yellow flower from a nearby shrubas we pass by and lift it to my face, drinking in the sweet scent. “How are mates chosen?”
“Adelphi—Urhlon and Aerill’s first-born daughter. Goddess of love.”
“But I thought Myr, Silva, and Ienar, before he was killed, presided over Solterre.”
“They did,” he clarifies, “but when Solterre was created, each of Urhlon and Aerill’s children christened it with a gift. Adelphi gifted the fae of the land with mates, created in the image of her parents’ love. That was her contribution.”
“Everyone has a mate here?” I ask, twirling my flower idly. Zadyn shakes his head, glancing down at me.
“It’s become less and less common, as if Adelphi’s gift faded with time. But they do still exist.” Zadyn points to the fountain up ahead, bearing the likeness of an imposing, if not sinister, male.
“That one is Ienar.”
The god of war is built like a gladiator with thick, corded muscles. He is armed for battle—a helmet resting at his hip and a longsword dangling from his free hand.
“How did Ienar defeat the dragons when their fire is the only thing that can kill a god? Wouldn’t the witches have obliterated him?”
“He had the element of surprise on his side. They never even saw it coming until it was too late. Even though the Blackbloods were, for all intents and purposes, god-offspring, they were no match for an actual god.”
A bout of laughter ripples off the group of royals ahead, catching our eye. Dover careens into the side of the fountain before Kai pounces on him and dunks his head under the water. He howls maniacally before letting him up. Dover crosses back to the ladies and shakes his head like a shaggydog, spraying them and earning a thousand unamused complaints. I chuckle as we continue our leisurely pace.
“They seem so carefree, don’t they? Not what I expected at all.” I look up at him.
“I don’t think they’re as carefree as they let on. Each of them has a name and a title, each their own set of unpleasant responsibilities. I think they savor their time together while trying to outrun who they are and what they were born to do. At least until they no longer can.”
“That’s sad. Not to have any choice in who you are and what you do.”
“It gives us purpose,” he counters. “Fae are a powerful species. Like witches. Without some kind of pre-destination, we would be nightmares. Some are, despite that. But you know what they say about idle hands.”
We reach our desired picnic spot and pass the afternoon in the glow of the brilliant sun. I try to avoid thinking about the ceremony until we reluctantly pack our things and head back toward the castle. With each step, my anxiety grows.
I have no idea what I’ve gotten myself into.
18
The Cave of Manthis sits at the base of a large mountain some ten miles north of the castle. We ride out before sunset until stars dust the sky, and we reach a large clearing. Countless members of court have made the short trek to the cave. Cloaked High Fae gather near the small burning pyres scattered throughout the clearing. Their flames dance high and wild, casting the surrounding forest in an orange glow. My eyes are drawn to the mouth of the cave, where a soft greenish light glows from within.
“The king doesn’t come to this?” I ask Zadyn as he lifts a hand to help ease me from the horse.
“No. He usually stays in the castle and pays homage in his own way. Besides, only participants enter the cave, so once the initial rite is performed, the night can get rather boring for spectators. Especially when it’s the longest one of the year.”
Jace stands near the mouth of the cave, speaking with a few noble females. Zadyn starts toward him, and I lag behind, looking around for any familiar faces.
“Big turnout this year,” a soft voice purrs in my ear. I whirlto find Kai standing behind me, his face bathed in flickering firelight.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, my tone coming out harsher than I intend.
“Enjoying the solstice, of course. Readying for the rite. But the better question is, what areyoudoing here?” His eyes roam over me curiously as he stuffs his hands into his pockets.
“I’m representing the king’s blood,” I say proudly.
“So fresh from the temple, you’re still wet behind the ears.” He flicks the pointed tip of my ear playfully and I swat at his hand. “I’m curious. Why on earth would the king choose a long-lost cousin for the ceremony over his own daughter?” he muses. Though his voice is light and teasing, there is an air of suspicion behind it. I steel myself, doubling down on the act.
“To relieve her of the burden, of course.”
His brows lift in surprise.
“An honor, more like. Raised in a temple all your life, I’d think you’d know the distinction.” He prowls closer, sizing me up. I force a fake smile onto my face.
