Before I can answer, King Cassius saunters over, dripping sweat, and sits across from us. “I told you he’d bring up his tunnels before noon,” he shouts to the others.
King Sylvian snorts. “Jealous?”
“You’re the one who always needs to be underground. I’m at home in any element,” King Cassius says, and gives me a brief, almost shy, smile.
“I like the outdoors,” I say quietly, because it’s true. I always have.
King Oberon and King Ashton are still fighting, but now it’s grown even more intense. Their swords move faster, the blows sharper, and each time they clash, they get closer to real violence. King Ashton lands a stinging smack to King Oberon’s thigh, and King Oberon responds by hooking King Ashton’s ankle and sending him face-first into the sand.
“Enough,” King Cassius calls. “You two are acting like children.”
King Oberon ignores him, grabbing King Ashton by the neck and yanking him upright. King Ashton throws an elbow, catching King Oberon in the jaw, and for a second I’m sure they’re going to kill each other.
King Sylvian rises and moves fast. He gets between them and shoves them apart, his arms out. “Remember that we have to be in fighting form for the labyrinth,” he says, and there’s a steel in his voice that makes even King Oberon take notice.
“Why are you always so keen on peace, Earth King?” King Oberon asks, anger flashing in his gaze.
“Because someone has to be,” King Sylvian answers, brushing sand from his chest.
The two men glower at each other, but slowly, grudgingly, the tension drains away.
They all come to the table, each grabbing more food and drink than I can imagine eating in a week back home, and for a long moment, no one talks. I keep my eyes down, focusing on the little golden rolls and sweet strawberries. I don’t want to watch them eat, don’t want to meet anyone’s gaze.
But the silence is a pressure. Eventually, I lift my gaze and ask the question that’s been gnawing at me since last night. “Why do you all hate each other so much?”
King Oberon’s head jerks up. He stares at me like he can’t believe I’d just said that out loud.
“We don’t hate each other,” King Ashton says, mouth full of fruit.
“That’s not what it looks like,” I say.
He grins. “We used to. I mean, all the different faereallyused to hate each other. Now it’s more of a sport.”
King Cassius wipes his mouth with a napkin and says, “The four courts have been in conflict for as long as there have been fae. Most of it is tradition now. But there’s… history.”
“Lots of it,” King Oberon mutters, glaring at King Cassius.
I wait, but no one offers more. They just go on eating, tearing through the food like a pack of wolves.
“Alette–” King Oberon begins, touching my shoulder.
I flinch then scoot away, my heart hammering. These fae are constantly touching me. I’m not used to it. I’m not used to touch not hurting.
King Oberon drops his hand, far too focused on his food. The others have stopped eating and are staring, but when I glance at them, they go right back to their meal. I try to calm my racing heart. Try to pretend that I’m not always on the edge of a cliff of terror.
After a few more bites, King Cassius sets his fork down and leans in, voice soft. “You know, you don’t have to fear us, Alette.”
I look up at him, startled by the way he says my name. He’s not teasing. There’s something gentle in his eyes.
“You’re safe here,” he adds.
I glance at the others. King Oberon is picking apart a roasted quail, careful not to look my way. King Sylvian is already half finished with his plate, and his muscles are twitching as he tears bread with his hands. King Ashton is lounging in his chair, looking lazy, but I can tell from the way he keeps checking my face that he’s paying attention to every word.
“I’m not afraid of you,” I lie.
King Sylvian smirks. “You flinch every time one of us gets near you.”
I freeze. I want to argue, but I can’t, because it’s true.
