“Porcelain. It’s made of a white clay that can be found in the Amyrian Desert.”
I pause. The kingdom of Amyria occupies an expansive valley between two mountain ranges, and the desert skirts around it all. My gaze drops to the plates.
“Who collects the clay?” I ask. “And makes the plates?”
Lila doesn’t look up from the serving tray she is setting up bythe servants’ entrance, placing a water pitcher and wine bottle down. “I can ask the king.”
“No—I mean, I was only curious.”
Lila shrugs. “He speaks to the faeries.”
“But…he’s the king.”
“He was like that even as a prince. An older faerie once told me it’s because his mother was like that. Always asking us our names and opinions.” Lila pauses. “But sometimes, when he’s between fae females and feeling bored, he flirts. He is a male in power, after all.”
Dread curls in my stomach. “I understand.”
“It is more a curiosity to him than a true desire, I think. He usually finds a new fae quickly after that.”
A creeping, sickly sensation worms through my veins. It would be easy for the king to overcome me, and the only thing stopping him is a flimsy conscience and attention span.
I need to learn how to fight in every way possible.The thought pops into my mind before I can stop it, my hands still on the dishware. My muscles, though sore from working out last night, are already honed from many years of physical labor. But it’s more than that. The fae males have the physical and magical advantages.What do I have?
Two blood oaths and riddles to get around them. A rotting genius looking for a challenge. If I’ve learned anything from my short stint as a Night Crest in Illusion, it is that even the most tightly wound secrets unspool in the dark. Information, and a way to carry it to the light, is power. I will free Benji. But perhaps I can work to free more than just him.
For the first time, I regret not asking the names of the faeries I have fed. I regret not learning my former roommates’ names. There was so little I asked my mother when she was still here, and now I feel the disrespect of that sharply. She said to keep my head down and my genius in check—but she also butchered her julienning so that I might have more scraps to eat. After her death, I felt that stealing fae food could somehow continue her legacy. Ifocused so much on the thrill of the thieving, I forgot why my mother broke rules in the first place: to give. To give an advantage to me, her child, in any way she could.
Jeremee said to do less alone, and for the thousandth time, he was right.
I need a network. A network of peers.
A bookcase swings forward, and King Maxian steps through the concealed door, quickly shutting it behind him. An expansive muscled chest peeks out from beneath the undone laces of his tunic. His tousled dark-honey hair seems damp. He seems…relaxed, more so than he did with Kassandra.
I compose myself, falling beside Lila as she backs from the table.
“The table is ready whenever you are, Your Magnificence.”
“Thank you, Lila. And you as well, Avery.”
My name on the king’s lips jars me.
“Would you like to begin with wine this evening? Or a specialty drink?” she asks.
“I would love a Lila specialty. Have you named it yet?”
“I’m thinking of calling it Lavender’s Breath.”
“Brilliant.” The king smiles. Then he pulls out his own chair and sits down.
How is this the same male who allowed the order that—
I stop the thought before it unravels me. Lila turns to the serving table, opposite the wall from which the king entered. I follow her to the cutting board, the bowls of sliced lemons and limes, lavender flowers, a carafe of bubbling water.
“Your mouth is open,” she whispers, and I close it. She hands me the water pitcher. “Serve this while I make his drink, please.”
“What exactly is it?”
“Liquor mixed with lemon, lavender, and sparkling water.”
