The gold crown of swaying leaves. If it’s where I left it, it remains on the table in my parlor. “It was never mine. Aspen’s new wife can have it for all I care.”
“She’d look awfully silly wearing a crown of flame, don’t you think?”
A crown of...flame? My breath hitches as the swaying leaves emerge in my mind’s eye. What if they weren’t leaves after all? What if they were flames?
I shake the questions from my mind. What does it matter now?
Nyxia takes a step closer. “I think Aspen knew exactly what he was doing when he placed that crown on your head.”
* * *
The followingdays pass with far less excitement, but my circadian rhythm is totally thrown off. Nightmares plague my sleep, and I find myself most often awake at night. When this happens, I visit the observatory, watch the moon, the stars, and the unseelie fae that play about the landscape. Few fae pay me much heed, aside from the occasional attentions from Franco, which I must admit I’m beginning to grow more and more comfortable with. His lighthearted persona has its charm, and even his irritating moments tend to rouse a secret smile from me. Nyxia, however, seems preoccupied most of the time, which I’m grateful for. I have no desire to continue our conversation from before.
During the day, I spend idle time with Lorelei. She, however, seems perfectly capable of sleeping at night, so there are times when I’m left without her company. Whether alone or with my friend, I try my best to keep busy, forcing myself not to consider the upcoming event...
Aspen’s wedding.
Every time I think about it, nausea churns inside me. I wish I could burn the thought of him and his soon-to-be wife from my mind. I wish I could feel anger at him instead, fury that he’s really going through with this. But I can’t even drum up the ghost of my rage. Not when I was the one who made him promise to marry her. Not when I know it’s for the best. Not when it’s the only way to stop a war.
It’s the eve before the dreaded occasion when I wake from a string of unpleasant nightmares involving none other than Aspen and Maddie. My only relief is that tonight’s dreams were not the visceral kind like the one in Bircharbor’s dining room; those are far more difficult to decipher between dream and reality.
Sweat soaks the sheets as I finally give up on sleep and force myself out of bed. I dress in a cream gown and pace my room. There’s only one matter I can count on to distract me. A matter of life and death...and a certain unseelie prince.
I retrieve the prepared sealed envelope from my dressing table and stuff it beneath the sash around my waist. I’ve been working on the letter for two days now and only settled on my final draft earlier this evening.
When I enter the hall, I’m greeted by the bustle of nocturnal activity. With slow steps, I make my way down the corridor, eyes flashing to the ceiling, seeking black feathers hidden in the shadows of the beams overhead. However, all I find are wraiths and owls. If only I knew where the prince’s bedroom was.
The thought stops me in my tracks, a barrage of unanticipated images flooding my mind as I picture myself showing up at his private quarters unannounced. He would only be too pleased. And I…how would I feel about that? I shake my head to clear it.
As I continue down the corridor, a black shape catches my eye from a beam just ahead. With careful steps, I approach it, craning my neck to see if it might be—
“What are you looking at?”
I startle, finding Franco at my side, matching my posture as he stares up at the ceiling. A blush heats my cheeks as I’m forced to recall the discomforting visions I had of him just moments ago. I square my shoulders and steel my expression. “Do you take pleasure in scaring me each time?”
“I take any pleasure you’ll give me. But why were you so fascinated with the soot sprite?”
“A soot sprite?” I return my attention to the black shape, part from curiosity, part to obscure the fire that I’m sure still shows in my cheeks.
Franco lets out a whistle. In response, the sprite moves, opening a pair of glowing red eyes that lock on mine. Now I can clearly see it is not a raven at all but an orb of soot, motes of black swirling as it hisses in irritation before scurrying across the beam and out of sight.
Franco turns to me, brow lifted, mouth open in mock surprise. “Wait, did you...were you looking forme?”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself. I have a favor to ask of you.”
“A favor? I can only imagine—”
“Can you get a message to another court without drawing attention?”
The grin slides from his lips. “I think you have me confused with a messenger fae.”
“Not you personally, but someone in your employ.”
“I suppose,” he says. “What court are you trying to infiltrate? If you’re intending to reach your beloved mate, I’m sure Nyxia could deliver the message herself. She’ll be leaving for Bircharbor at dawn.”
I ignore the pressure in my chest, the wave of sorrow that threatens to drown me on the spot. Crossing my arms over my chest, I dig my nails into my arm, the sharp sensation a welcome point of focus. “It’s not King Aspen I’m trying to reach. It’s an unseelie court I need to get a message to, and I need it to reach someone specific.”
He looks surprised by this. “Which court would that be?”
