“I’ll send a guard to gather him.” Kassandra sighs. Leaning forward, she presses a kiss to her father’s forehead.
When we exit his chambers, striding down the hall, she does not look back at me, following with my head down. “Tell me again of this idea. It’s a mare, you said?”
Briar and I exchange a look. “Yes, my lady. And that’s not all.”
And together, we begin to shape the plan.
—
The night airis cool on my skin the following evening, the ground damp beneath my feet. A bullfrog bellows. If I close my eyes, I could pretend we are playing in the woods around the Peri, and not skirting the neglected, unused lawns of the state gardens, on our way to the coronation. Halfling guards march the procession of faeries toward the inner wall.
The servants had been given orders to enter through the back entrances of the coronation room, like moving, expensive décor: The more of us, the wealthier the fae look. For the hundreds ofHigh Fae gathering at Versara this evening, there will be a thousand attendants to serve them.
I add these grounds to my incomplete mental map of the palace, drawn for me by my mother. Over chopping onions and stirring stews, she described what she knew of the labyrinth—buildings inside buildings, separated by mazes, each inner layer a different House. First, the state rooms, then Illusion, Healing, and finally, the Reign residence. Still, details of the ruling House, the center of this sprawling chateau, remain unsketched, unknown to most, even other nobles.
Above the crowd, I spot the familiar crop of auburn hair. “Jae!” I call. He turns, his face lighting up. “Briar, this is my friend Jeremee,” I say when I reach him.
“Nice to meet you.” She nods. He nods back, then bends forward so that only I can hear.
“I should apologize,” he says.
I make a face. “For what?”
“For not inviting you down to the Nest last night.”
For leaving you in that dark hallway, alone.
“We’re not conjoined. We can have separate dinners.”
“Do you want that? To stop eating dinner together?”
“You think because I’m a Night Crest now, you can be rid of me?” I laugh.
He gives me a small smile. “I don’t want to be rid of you.”
Our knuckles brush against each other’s and I think of our moment in the hall, the question he voiced, the one in his eyes, as if we always need to find each other in a crowd to excuse the press of our bodies.
“We’ll talk tomorrow?” I wonder. “About…”
To my horror, I blush. He laughs this time, nodding, moss-green eyes sparkling. “Never thought you’d react like that because ofme,but I’m not complaining. I might even like it.”
I give him a shove as he laughs again. “You were talking big earlier.”
“Just trying to keep up with you. Always just trying to keep up with you.”
Hiding my grinning face, I think about what tomorrow might bring, and it’s like the painful flutter of an adolescent crush, for maybe he truly does want us to have each other.
But I do not simply want to have Jeremee; I want to keep him, and for him to keep me, no matter the shape or stamp of it. To bring each other a cup of tea at the end of a shift and sit side by side, divulging the most innocuous details of our days. I fantasize not only about love but also about freedom. I don’t know if I’ll ever truly be satisfied until I have both. Then again, when have I ever been satisfied with being or doing or wanting less?
You must try to hide yourself,my mother would beg.Or else they’ll sense your power.
Why shouldn’t they?I’d snap as an angry adolescent. Only when she fell ill did I understand that it was too late to repair our frayed relationship. All I could do was hold her frail frame and beg an unraveled mind to forgive me.
“Jeremee!” a blond faerie calls, weaving through the crowd of servants from behind.
“Hi.” Jeremee grins at the sight of his roommate.
The blond faerie, shorter and wider than Jeremee, reaches us, cheeks flushed. He slings an arm around Jae’s torso, hand grazing his ribs.
