“Both? Though, not from my father.” She nodded to the dark-haired male, who flipped the clasps and opened the lid. Inside lay silk and river-linen, pearl hooks, bands of nacre, colors like deep night and bright reef and the inside of a conch shell.
“Nali,” I breathed. “It’s beautiful.”
“You will be expected to dress for court,” she said. “Wetake beauty seriously here. I took the liberty of sending suitable options to your friends.”
I reached in and touched the edge of a gown the green of riverweed at dusk. The fabric slid between my fingers like silk. I tried not to like it, but gods, it was lovely.
“That color is perfect for you,” Nali said. “Oh, and I saved the best for last.”
Her guard lifted a second, smaller trunk onto the table and snapped it open: jewelry—thin chains, delicate hairpins, a set of pearl-studded combs shaped like waves.
“I think it’s only fair that I ask what you want in return,” I said. “Beyond making sure we don’t embarrass you at dinner.”
Nali crossed the room, letting her fingers trail along the carved coral as she went. She took up the window’s view, all glowing lights and flitting mer-tails.
“My father sees hospitality as a tool,” she said.
“This is a test,” I offered, quoting Rydian.
She turned back to me, nodding. “A two-part test, I think. First, he seeks to gauge your mettle.”
“I’ve fought more enemies than he has in the last seven years,” I said.
“And he fought in the Great War.”
I blinked. “Impossible. Fae don’t live that long anymore.”
“Naiad do.” She flicked a glance at me, adding, “Not many of us. But some. My father remembers what it was like, the bloodshed, the loss. He does not march into that again lightly.”
“And the second test?” I asked.
“He wants to see if you respect our values.” She bit her lip before adding, “What he does not value are shadow fae.”
I sighed. “I see your message is your father’s even if the clothes are not.”
“They are all my doing, I swear it. But you should know he will not ally with you while you stand with him,” she said, hervoice becoming earnest, her eyes pleading. “Send the shadow prince away.”
“I’ve given my answer, and it won’t change,” I told her as gently as I could.
“You must be very sure about him,” she said, studying me.
“I am.” I met her gaze. “He’s not like Callan.”
Her expression shifted—curious, then faintly amused. “No,” she said. “No, he’s not.” The tip of her tongue touched the back of her teeth. “Callan was a polished blade. Your shadow prince is a knife you sharpen yourself.”
She pinned me with a look that seemed to see right through to my soul. “I imagine you’ve come away with a few cuts from that knife yourself, haven’t you?” she murmured.
I looked away, refusing to let her see the truth of it. “Rydian has saved my life countless times. I cannot—will not—turn my back on a friend like that. Besides, he is no longer a prince. Not since Callan banished him.”
“I don’t speak of his Autumn blood,” Nali said, gentle but pointed.
I didn’t move. Didn’t blink. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Naliadne’s smile turned sympathetic the way a predator looks “sorry” for a smaller animal that hasn’t recognized the danger. “You do,” she said softly. “You’re not a fool. He is not some soldier without a court, Aurelia. Honor runs in his bones just as surely as it runs through a crown. He is an heir, same as you.”
My heart slammed against my ribs. I’d suspected it but told myself it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. Not just because of, well, logistics—how had Duron allowed him to live if that were true—but because he wouldn’t keep that from me… would he?
I lifted my chin. “And if I sent him away, would your father give me what I asked for?”
