“What is so important that you must interrupt me in my own chamber?”
Maxian gestures to me. My face burns and I wish, more than anything, that I could sink into the lushness of this carpet. The plane around me rumbles, warming. Hector’s mixed heritage of Healing and Reign. Then comes the rush of Maxian’s rocky power.
“Assault laws,” he says. “We’re going to rewrite them.”
Rules can change.
It is unfolding but not in the way I imagined, not in the way it was intended.
The king, the advisor, and I regroup in a gold-trimmed parlor adjacent to the bedroom. The males settle themselves in the two tufted cream armchairs before an oval glass table. Across from them, I perch on a green settee at which the king gestured. My palm presses against the soft but firm texture. My hand leaves a darkened impression on the fabric. I reach down, brushing the threads in the opposite direction; it is once again shiny.
“Something wrong with the cushion, girl?” Hector asks.
Blood rushes to my face, and I keep my chin tucked. “No, sir.”
“You have a question, Avery,” Maxian states.
How in Lucan’s Tree does one clean this thing?
“Lady Kassandra does not own this material,” I say.
“Crushed velvet. From Cont.”
“And what exactly is she doing on my crushed velvet, Max?” Hector grunts, tugging his robe around his belly.
“She’s going to help us close the loopholes in the assault laws.”
Hector opens his mouth, but the king cuts him off with a wave of his hand. In a moment, a stack of documents drop on the glass table, fanning out across the top. A pile of empty parchment comes next, two quills and inkpots, as well as more folders of work. The armchair creaks as Hector angles himself toward the king. He drops his voice.
“And why, sir, is she helping us and not the Council of Keepers?”
Maxian stares down his uncle. “You and I are both on the council, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever been a faerie?”
Hector laughs. “My lord, I don’t—”
“Have you ever been a faerie serving the High Fae in Versara?”
“No.”
“And have you ever been assaulted by a High Fae while serving them?”
I suck in a breath. Hector cuts a look to me, then back at the king. I cringe, keeping my eyes downcast.Please,I beg silently, ears ringing.Do not bring me into this—
“No,” he grinds out.
“Are there any faeries on the Council of Keepers?”
“No.”
“So you and I, and the rest of the council, are wholly unqualified to write new laws that will actually protect faeries from assault—no matter the class of the attacker,” Maxian says. “That is why Avery is sitting on your crushed velvet.”
Hector shifts in his chair once more. “I know you are eager to assert yourself as king and build a legacy worthy of the Vandorne line, but this may only further disrupt the dissatisfied council.”
Maxian quirks a brow. “You are satisfied doing business with rapists?”
