“Was what?” I smile.
Lila gives me a look as she plucks the letter from my hand. Her exasperation disintegrates to a darker emotion: dread, fear, resignation. Each time my friend rereads the note, her light dims just a bit more, frown deepening.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
Before she can tuck it into her pocket, I snatch it back.
“No,” she says. “No, it’s fine—”
Scrawled across the parchment is just one word.
Bedchamber.
It yanks the air from my lungs.
Bedchamber?
My vision blurs with rage. My head snaps up, and I try to meet my friend’s eye, but she just hugs herself, staring at the floor.
“This is not fine,” I snap. This is worse than not fine.
For all his drama and noise and pity, the king acts as those he condemns.
“It’s not what you think,” Lila snarls.
I take a breath. “I do not judge, Lila. I just care for you.”
“You misunderstand. He’s brought a new fae into his bed.”
“What do you mean?”
Lila shifts. “He makes me watch sometimes, for an audience. His guests like it, too. They seem to enjoy my discomfort—perhaps believe it turns me on.”
“And they make you—”
“I’ve never joined. Sometimes the guests request it, but the king always declines.”
The strange feeling congeals in my stomach. I remember Maxian’s warm, honeyed words the night I wore the oil.
Who’s it for?he murmured.Don’t be nervous, Avery, dear.
I am nervous now—nervous for Lila. For myself, I feel pent upwith new power, like a dam ready to burst. I think of the look the king gave me in the training halls. His full weight pinning me. His bruising grip on my arms.
Something swells up in me, an emotion I can’t identify.
“I’ll go,” I say.
Lila grabs my arm. “Do not.”
“I’ll say you weren’t feeling well and so I’ve stepped in.”
“No.”
“Lila.” Now the nerves are for us both. “How many times have you stepped in for me? Let me do this for you.”
“It’s not just that.” She bites her lip. “It’s your disdain. Lately, it’s been leaking through.”
