He studies the opposing crowd through slitted lids. “I can’t imagine why he would have.”
I return my attention to the sea fae. She stands next to Dahlia and the other supposed royals. Has Cobalt been replaced by a new royal? If so, why?
The question is stripped from my mind as Estel turns to face us. “I will send my ambassador now.”
A fae who looks much like the Star Queen—an androgynous figure made of the same shimmering particles of light—bows low. “Your Majesty,” the ambassador says in an airy, genderless voice, then turns away from us to make their way to the stretch of land that stands between our two groups.
Another figure—one I think I recognize as the Summer Court ambassador—does the same. The two ambassadors stop when they come within several feet of each other. From here, I can see their mouths move, but I hear nothing. My hands clench into fists, my anxiety returning in a rush. I’m desperate to hear what’s being said, what arguments are made—
Then, just like that, the meeting is over. At least, it seems to be, for the Star Court ambassador is already making their way back to us. Aspen stiffens at my side. “It shouldn’t have been that easy,” he says under his breath.
I can’t form a word as I wait with bated breath for what the ambassador will say. When the star fae reaches our group, their glittering eyes pin on me. “Queen Dahlia’s ambassador claims her queen requests a one-on-one conversation with you, Queen Evelyn.”
My throat goes dry. “Why me?”
The ambassador shakes their head. “She wouldn’t say.”
My gaze turns to my mate, then to the others. But wait. Why am I seeking permission? Validation? This was my plan to begin with and this is my decision to make. I steel my nerves, squaring my shoulders as I lift my chin. “If there is no argument from the Alpha Alliance, I will meet with her.”
No royal speaks against my statement, so the ambassador nods and returns to the summer fae. When they finish speaking this time, both ambassadors return to their separate parties. I see Dahlia step to the front of the retinue, her gaze trained on me.
Aspen’s fingers find mine. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
I tilt my head. “Am I sure I want to call a ceasefire, or am I sure I want to speak with Dahlia and try not to rip her head off her shoulders?”
He quirks a halfhearted grin. It’s clear he’s nervous for me; I can feel it rippling from his palm into mine. “Both.”
I let out a heavy sigh. “It must be done.” Returning my attention to our opponents, I give Aspen’s hand a final squeeze and step away from our group. Dahlia does the same, mirroring each step of mine. Every inch we close between us feels like a mile, and my rage grows hotter the clearer she comes into view. It’s impossible for me to forget everything she’s done, starting with her poor treatment of Doris Mason and her cousin—the last two Chosen from the previous Hundred Year Reaping—and ending with her betrayal of Aspen, when she petitioned for Cobalt to take Aspen’s place as king when my mate refused to marry Maddie Coleman.
We come to a halt several feet from each other, and my eyes narrow to slits, jaw clenched tightly as I fight the fury that radiates down to my fingertips. Every inch of me begs to release my fire, let it dance over my palms.
I could end this, I realize. I could attack Dahlia now, set fire to her pretty little wings. My allies could join me, and we could take down the Renounced before they even know what’s happening. Now that I’m closer, the pretender kings and queens are in clearer view. They look meek compared to my allies. The only formidable opponents would be Dahlia and Phoebe.
That’s all they have left.
Excitement rises within me at the realization, and I can feel my flames licking the surface of my palms.
Dahlia looks down her nose at me. “Whatever devious thoughts are running through your traitorous human mind, you can stop now,” she says in her irritatingly smooth voice. “Phoebe’s soldiers are on watch.”
The queen glances up, and I follow her gaze. High in the sky, I catch sight of what appear to be birds. But I know better. They are winged fae like Phoebe. I return my attention to the Summer Queen, fire flooding my veins at the sight of her simpering smile.
“They could put an end to your pathetic life in seconds, should you try anything,” she adds.
I grind my teeth, fighting the seething retort that begs to spring from my lips. However, I force my rage to calm to a simmer. This is a peaceful exchange of words. If I break it and everything goes poorly, it will be my fault.
Plastering an exaggerated smile on my face, I adopt a similar tone to hers. “Queen Dahlia, I will ignore that threat and instead tell you how lovely it is to see you again. You must feel the same about me to request such a close meeting between us.”
She huffs. “It’s only because I want to hear whatever nonsensical lies you’ve prepared straight from your lips.”
I hold her gaze while I mentally prepare everything I must relay to the Renounced. Obviously, I hadn’t planned on explaining it myself. It was agreed from the start that Estel’s ambassador would be the one to do it. But now it must be me.
Clasping my hands before me, I begin. “We have received intel that a human army has been sent from the mainland with the intention to wipe out faekind.”
Dahlia pales, her eyes flashing with alarm before she steels her composure. Her words come out hesitant. “When you say you’ve received intel, does that mean you have proof?”
“Nyxia’s owls have confirmed sightings of several warships.”
“That could mean anything,” she says.
