“I needed it to be done in secret. Your presence at the Sea Court would certainly arouse suspicion. Besides, can you even visit the Sea Court? Is it not underwater?”
She rolls her eyes. “I would have sent someone. I have my own contacts, you know.”
I sigh. “I know. I’m sure you would have done it, but I didn’t want to wake you. Also, I don’t think Franco is so bad. His flirtations irritate me to no end, but I can’t say I despise his company.” My eyes flash to Lorelei. “You know him better than I do, though.ShouldI despise his company?”
Her posture relaxes. “No, he’s not despicable. I hate him, of course, but it’s more like the disdain for a little brother. He was basically that to me when Nyxia and I were together. We were at each other’s throats with teasing more often than not. Still, I wish you would have let me help you instead.” She places a hand on my arm. “I feel just as useless as you do, you know. I want all of this to work out, and I hate that nothing is going the way I wish it would.”
I bite the inside of my cheek again as my lungs constrict. I hardly trust myself to speak. “How do you wish it would go?”
She gives me a sad smile. “I wish you would decide to stay. I wish you would storm over to Bircharbor right now and stop Aspen from sealing the treaty with his new Chosen.”
A wave of shock runs through me. “That would mean—”
“I know what it would mean. Sometimes I agree with King Aspen about the treaty. Sometimes I question whether it’s worth saving.”
I clench my jaw. “It is, Lorelei. That’s one thing I know. If it saves lives, it’s worth it.”
“Is it truly saving lives? Or controlling them?”
Heat floods my veins with the effort it takes not to argue. My anger is a welcome alternative to the sorrow that threatens to crush me, but I’m in no mood to affirm my stance yet again. Instead, I let my rage burn away my pain and change the subject. “Come with us tonight. The prince may not be the worst fae in the world, but I don’t want to be alone with him.”
“I suppose I could go. If it’s a moon revel, there will be wine. But there better be Midnight Blush or I’m out.”
“What’s Midnight Blush?”
“It’s a wine made from night blooming jasmine and obsidian pyrus—a cousin of honey pyrus. Don’t worry, there are no dreadful hallucinations to go with it. And it’s the only thing that’s going to allow me to endure hours of Franco’s company.”
I force an emotionless laugh and return my efforts to sorting through the dresses. My fingers fall on the one I first dismissed as being too dour—a black dress with silver moons stitched at the hem of the skirt. The sleeves are a sheer spider silk draped with strands of pearls. The neckline is lowcut and lined with white feathers. Best of all, it doesn’t remind me of autumn, Bircharbor, Amelie, or Aspen.
I hold the dress against my figure. “Does this look scandalous to you?”
She quirks a brow. “No. Definitely stunning, but not scandalous.”
“Perfect,” I say. “Scandalous was not the bargain I agreed to.”
* * *
At midnight,Prince Franco arrives at my room to claim his bargain.
He stands in my doorway, looking like a storybook vampire indeed, with his black leather trousers and a white linen shirt unbuttoned to the middle of his chest. His silver hair is slicked away from his face, revealing the hard planes and angles of his jaw and cheekbones. A long strand of hematite beads hangs around his neck, drawing my eyes to his chest. For the first time, I notice dark ink tattooed on his skin, crescent moons and other geometric symbols peeking from beneath the open collar.
“Lovely females.” He extends both arms, not seeming at all surprised by the presence of my companion. I place my hand in the crook of his elbow, while Lorelei takes his arm with a grimace.
Franco’s eyes drink me in. “Nice dress.”
I ignore his compliment even though it sends a flutter of pleasure through me. “Where is this revel taking place? The observatory?”
“Not a chance. Moon revels are far too crowded for the observatory to accommodate.”
He guides us through the dark halls lit by the warm glow of the moonlight orbs to the lawn outside the palace. The moon is full and bright overhead, enormous and near-blinding with its glow. In the distance, the sound of laughter and voices and animal noises mingle with the beat of a drum. The latter reverberates in the ground beneath my feet. As we near the source, an enormous tree comes into view with hundreds of glowing lights surrounding it. The lights are from wisps, wraiths, sprites, and dozens of other kinds of fae I have no name for.
Franco points at the tree. “Do you recognize it?”
It takes me a moment to realize it’s the same tree we saw from the observatory, the Wishing Tree. At its base stands a fae with pearlescent skin, silver hair, and a flowing gown of white gossamer. She speaks a language I don’t recognize, lifting her arms to the moon, then lowering them over a silver cauldron of water. The water reflects the moon as if the fae holds the celestial entity before her.
“Priestess Dionna,” Franco says. “She performs the moon rituals at every revel.”
I’m entranced by the flowing motions of the priestess’ arms as she lifts and lowers, bends and sways. Her movements seem sacred and ancient. I’m surprised to find not everyone is watching her. A crowd of reverent onlookers surrounds the priestess, but most of the fae are elsewhere, dancing, drinking, running, flying. The freedom I see is both terrifying and exhilarating.
