He puts his arm around my waist and pulls me to his chest. His eyes swim with desire. “There’s that sharp tongue of yours.”
My lips pull up at the corners. “Perhaps later you can find out just how sharp it can be.”
He groans. “You make doing my duty so hard.”
I wink. “That’s not all I make hard. Now, pull yourself together before those smug aristocrats think you’re too fond of them.” I stand on my toes and light a kiss on his cheek.
“My cruel beloved,” he says with mock wistfulness as he releases me. Then, straightening his jacket, he returns my wink and saunters off into the crowd.
I too begin to weave amongst the guests, skirting around the dance floor in search of the faces I’m eager to see. Finally, I spot a tall woman with a head of dark hair. My chest grows warm, and I quicken my pace. “Gemma Bellefleur,” I say when I reach her.
“Ember Montgomery,” she says with a wide smile and leans forward to lightly embrace me. I’m a little surprised, as I never knew her to be physically affectionate, and belatedly return the hug. Something hard and round comes against me.
We pull away, and my mouth falls open as I study her. She wears an elegant gown in emerald green velvet that does nothing to hide the curve of her belly. “Oh, Gemma, congratulations.” I turn to the figure next to her, a broad-shouldered male with golden-brown hair and ruby eyes. “And to you, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you,” the King of Winter says. His bearing is regal and stoic, but the sparkle in his gaze reveals his joy. It only grows brighter when his eyes lock on his mate. “Our first pup is on the way.”
“A pup,” I echo, before reminding myself King Elliot Rochester is a wolf fae. When I met him and Gemma last year in the Winter Court, I’d known he was fae but not that he was a wolf in his unseelie form. And I certainly hadn’t a clue he was king, not until word of his broken curse spread through town. By then, Imogen was spreading her own tale, all about how Gemma had betrayed her and stolen Elliot. With Gemma having the heart and favor of the king, her popularity grew, and the townspeople began to admonish every hint of scorn directed at their king’s beloved. Mrs. Coleman moved us far from Winter after that.
“Either a pup or a bookworm,” Gemma says with a wry grin.
Elliot places a hand on his mate’s belly. “Perhaps both.”
She turns and meets his adoring gaze. “Perhaps. Although, by the way it kicks, I’m thinking it will be the former. There’s most definitely a tail in there.”
Elliot laughs and plants a kiss at Gemma’s temple.
“And you, Ember,” Gemma says, returning her gaze to me. “You sing so beautifully. I had no idea you could do that. It was magic, wasn’t it?”
I nod. “It’s something I’ve been honing this past year.”
“It was stunning,” the king says. Such a compliment—as short as it was—from the gruff Elliot Rochester has me filling with pride.
“Thank you,” I say. “However, it’s the two of you I want to thank. Gemma, I know I’ve written to you several times now, but I won’t feel my gratitude is properly conveyed until I say so in person. Thank you for the ballgown you sent me. Not only was it lovely, but I wouldn’t be here right now if it hadn’t been for those enchanted invitations to last year’s ball.”
Gemma gives me a knowing smirk. “While I’ll admit my interference hadn’t been made with a love match in mind, I’m glad it brought you happiness.” She looks behind me with a subtle nod.
I follow her line of sight to where Franco stands chatting with a pair of gentlemen. Again and again, his eyes flash toward me as if he can’t keep his gaze off me for long. I smile and turn back to my friend with a sigh. “It has brought me much happiness, so please know you have my undying gratitude. If there’s anything I can ever do—”
“There is something you can do,” she says. “Visit with me more often, won’t you? Let’s be true friends from now on.”
For a moment, I don’t know what to say. When we first met, I knew she was kind. I liked her. Even though she asked me to write to her after I moved, I struggled to believe she truly wanted me to. For why would someone so refined, so important, want to be my friend?
But if this last year has taught me anything, it’s that I must first accept myself. Only then can I see in me what others see.
I reach for her hand and give it a squeeze. “Yes, Gemma. Let us be friends.”
* * *
As the night wears on,I grow weary of so much activity. There are countless people to speak to, eager strangers seeking introductions, familiar faces pulling me this way and that. I stop to chat with Seri and Augie, who can’t keep their hands off each other, not even as Seri invites me to take a turn about the halls to enjoy a glass of wine with her. After I extricate myself from their company, Brother Hans—Saint Lazaro’s new representative at court—seeks me out to tell me how much he enjoyed my music. While I still don’t fully trust his church, I must admit Hans does give me hope for his brotherhood.
Finally, I find Clara, who has come with a couple friends from university. She seems much changed this past year. Happier. More mature, even. There remains a rift between us, one I doubt will ever be erased. Nothing could diminish the fact that I am undoubtedly responsible for her mother’s exile from the isle. During Mrs. Coleman’s trial, Clara learned the entirety of her mother’s guilt—that she not only murdered my father but hers too. Mrs. Coleman fought tooth and nail to try and convince the court that neither death was her fault. She claimed the first was in self-defense and the second was spurred on by dark magic. In the end, she was able to sway no one. She’s now serving a life sentence of hard labor in the country of Bretton. She’ll never again step foot in Faerwyvae. Never feel its magic. She’ll age and work and die.
“How is Imogen?” I dare to ask.
Clara shifts awkwardly from foot to foot before answering. “She struggled in the workhouse, so my aunt took her in. Aunt Marie has very little patience for her. She gives her no allowance and has her working outside the home to earn her keep. My sister is changing, though. For the better.”
“That’s good to hear.” Again, I feel the rift that stands between us. We were never true sisters before, and I doubt we’ll ever be anything more than uneasy acquaintances from now on. But I’m all right with that. I have true friends now, and she has hers.
