Don’t cry. Not yet.
I climbed the steps quickly. The walls blurred as I fumbled with the latch, shoving the door open. I grabbed the nearest thing—a trinket I’d taken a few days ago—and hurled it across the room. It smashed into the wall, glass skidding everywhere.
I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes. This was exactly what I’d feared. He’d never defend me in front of other fae, not when his half-human blood already made him a target for their whispers.
The memory of his touch still lived inside me. Those late nights in hidden corners of the city, when he’d fuse his lips to mine and tear off my clothes. Twelve months together, three apart. Apparently that was long enough for him to move on. He couldn’t even meet my eyes. He sat there and let them mock me—joinedthem—and never once flinched.
I wiped at my face, hating that I’d wondered if he ever thought about what we’d had, but tonight had given me my answer. That was the real Vaeris. The prince who couldn’t afford to care about a human. Maybe the tender version of him had never existed and I’d built him from scraps of stolen moments and desperation.
Heavy feet stormed up the stairs. I dried my face as Rheya stepped into the dim light.
“I’m going back downstairs and I’m going tokill him.”
“Rheya.”
“He is such a bastard.” She crossed to me in three strides, crouching down. “He had no godsdamned right to speak about you like that.”
“I’m fine,” I managed.
“You’re crying in the dark surrounded by broken glass.”
I wiped my face. “It doesn’t matter.”
She yanked me into a fierce hug. “You are not easy to control. You’re the smartest, bravest person I know, and if he can’t see that, he’s a fucking fool.”
My throat closed again. Different tears now—the kind that came from being seen. From being loved fiercely when you felt worthless.
Rheya pulled back, frowning. “Well, while you were up here, I stayed to clear the table and I’m telling you, something weird is going on.”
“What do you mean?”
“Henrik and Taryn. They’re both acting strange.” Rheya’s brow furrowed. “You didn’t notice how stiff they were?”
“They’re always nervous around royals.”
“This was something else. Like they were scared.”
I pictured Lord Henrik’s flushed cheeks. How his smile slipped the second Vaeris started speaking. Taryn, hiding her twitchy mouth behind her wine.
“They’re terrified of him,” I said.
“Maybe,” Rheya said. “Or they’re worried about whatever brought him here.”
I stood and moved toward the narrow window, peering through the glass at the snow-covered courtyard. “I’ll go back down and see what I can find out.”
“Be careful.”
I descended the servants’ stairs. The dining room had transformed in our absence—dimmer now, the hearth casting shadows that writhed like grasping fingers. Tense male voices drifted from the drawing room.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I crouched beside the door. They could probably scent me. If I wascaught listening to their conversation, Henrik would thrash me. I pressed my ear to the wood anyway.
“—can’t continue like this.” Henrik’s voice was tight with barely controlled panic. “Three houses just this month. The High Cleric is asking questions.”
A long pause. “What kind of questions?” Vaeris asked.
“Ones that end with executions.” Henrik growled. “The incidents in my quarter aren’t isolated, are they?”
“What makes you think that?”
