We enter the throne room, and my attention is immediately drawn to the large table at its center. Around it stands Nyxia and three other fae rulers I’ve grown somewhat accustomed to seeing at Selene Palace: King Aelfon of Earthen, King Flauvis of Winter, and Queen Minuette of Wind. The first two are in equal states of disarray as Aspen, smeared with grime from the battle they too must have joined. But there are two additional fae I only vaguely recall seeing before. One is a tiny pixie who resembles a brown stick with a pair of pink, fluttering wings and a cherry blossom for a head. The other is a tall female figure—which I only know because she’s without clothing—composed of particles of shimmering white light from her toes to her hairless, humanoid head.
All eyes fall on Aspen and me as we join the fae around the table. I realize this is the first time I’ve been present at a meeting of the rebels, the first time I’ve confronted these rulers as a queen myself. Without meaning to, I’ve inched closer to Aspen’s side for comfort. I go still as I feel his pinky wind around mine, our linked fingers hidden behind the folds of my dress. The touch of his flesh, despite the current grudge we hold between us, helps steady my nerves.
“Queen Estel.” Nyxia nods at the shimmering fae, then faces the winged one. “Queen Tris. I present to you Queen Evelyn of Fire.”
I freeze, unsure if I’m supposed to curtsey. I’m still so uncertain what customs are universal to faekind and which are adopted only by some as preference. Besides, I’m a queen now. Am I ever expected to curtsey? When both offer me only nods of acknowledgment, I do the same for them. “Have you joined the rebellion?” I ask.
Flauvis, the wolf king, lets out a growl that sounds more like a laugh. “I’d like to know that answer too,” he says, gaze locked on Queen Estel.
“I gave you my answer days ago,” Queen Tris says in a minuscule voice. She shudders, and suddenly the pixie stands as tall as Queen Nyxia. Her skin remains brown and bark-like, decorated in elegant whorls. Her hair is composed of brambles and bright pink cherry blossoms, her dress like woven branches laced with pink petals. Translucent pink wings fold down her back. I suppress a rush of nausea as I’m reminded of Mikaela’s scars where wings should have been. Queen Tris gives an audible huff and crosses her arms over her chest. In this form, she looks much more familiar as one of the rulers I recall seeing at the council meeting where Aspen fought Cobalt for his throne. She must be Queen of Spring.
“And my presence here today is my answer,” Estel says. Her voice is light and musical, like the tinkling of distant bells or wind chimes. The particles shift and sway over her face, rearranging until they form the semblance of a smile. I can only imagine she’s Queen of Star.
“It took you long enough.” If a wolf can scoff, Flauvis certainly does now, an expression I can’t even imagine on a common canine.
Estel remains composed, giving no reply.
I glance from Estel to Flauvis when I’m suddenly aware of a pair of eyes burning into me. I look across the table at Queen Tris, who stares as if seeing me for the first time. However, if I recognize her, she should damn well recognize me. I was certainly hard to miss when I was presented as Aspen’s champion before the entire fae council. Regardless, her scrutiny feels invasive as her eyes bore into me, lingering on my dress. I wonder if that’s the primary reason she shifted from her smaller form into this one—to unsettle me with her glare. Her upper lip lifts in clear distaste. “Youdefeated King Ustrin?”
I meet her eyes without falter, lips pursed. Indignation dances down my arms to my fingertips. I lift a hand, let flames flicker over my palm. “I tore out his throat with my teeth. Would you like to scrutinize them too? You might still find one of his scales if it’s proof you’re after.”
Tris pales to a lighter shade of brown, pink eyes locked on my menacingly pleasant smile.
Aspen chuckles next to me.
“We aren’t here to discuss the virtues of oral hygiene,” Nyxia says in a bored tone. “We’re here because Queen Estel has important information to share with us. It’s about our enemies.”
“Or she’s a spy,” Queen Minuette says with a dangerous, airy hiss, her blue hair rippling behind her on an invisible wind.
“She has a point.” Aspen narrows his eyes at Estel.
“Estelisa spy,” Nyxia says. “She’s been spying forme.” Her eyes move from one fae to the next until she’s burned us all into silence.
“For you?” King Aelfon’s voice is low and gruff. He stomps a yellowed hoof, shaking his curled horns. “Why is this the first we’re hearing of it?”
“Because I wasn’t sure I trusted her yet,” Nyxia says through her teeth.
“But you do now?” Aspen asks, tone skeptical.
“Enough to let her speak,” Nyxia says pleasantly.
The Star Queen steps closer to the table, the particles of her face dispersing and rearranging until they form a stoic expression. “Queen Nyxia is correct; I agreed to spy for her. It is why I have yet to officially join your alliance. But the actions I must take next will pit me firmly against the opposition, and I will not be able to spy any longer.”
King Aelfon crosses his thick, brown arms over his barrel chest. “What is this special information you have, then?”
“As you know,” Estel says, “Irridae Palace has been vacant since Ustrin’s death. He left no heir, which meant all who were loyal to him were displaced upon his death, including his household.”
She’s right; this information is known. Within a day of me defeating Ustrin, Nyxia urged me to send a pair of moon dragons to Irridae Palace—Ustrin’s former home—to investigate the grounds. When they returned, they reported that the palace was empty, all entrances sealed, the grounds protected by some strange magic. I ordered them back to Irridae to remain nearby and report any changes, but I haven’t heard a word since.
Estel continues. “What you don’t know is that Queen Dahlia has been adamant that we hunt down members of Ustrin’s former household for intel. She wouldn’t say why at first, at least not in front of me. I think she suspected my hidden motives from the start. But she called a council meeting yesterday and told us what she’s discovered.”
Aspen runs a hand through his blue-black hair, sending a good portion of it spilling into his eyes. It takes all my restraint not to reach up and brush it off his brow. “What is it?” he asks.
“Dahlia told us she’d suspected Ustrin had a weapons stash hidden in his palace,” Estel says. “She claims the informant she questioned confirmed it exists and that they aren’t just any weapons. They are iron, the same ones Ustrin tried to use against his own kind.”
I shudder, remembering how Ustrin’s guard carried an iron sword during a peaceful exchange of words, then used it against Franco. He later threatened his own fire fae with iron-filled grenades, a weapon that would have obliterated his own soldiers in the process if used.
Estel continues. “With this new information, she set forth a petition to send the council’s newly appointed seelie king as Ustrin’s replacement to take over Irridae Palace at once. She said it was to weaken Queen Evelyn’s claim, but I know that isn’t the real reason the Renounced are suddenly sending someone to occupy the abandoned palace. They want those weapons.”
