As I glance back, Raven remains rooted in place, his hand pressed against the spot where mine had been moments before, as if trying to hold on to the lingering warmth, unwilling to let it fade. “I’ll do what I must, Raven. I’m more than aware of what is at stake.”
I don’t linger for his reply—there’s a prince awaiting me.
The only way to describethe dining room in Prince Keres’s chambers is romantic. Instead of the auras I’ve seen all over the court, dozens of candles fill the space, their flickering flames reflecting off the polished walls and illuminating everything around me. A large oak table takes up the center of the room, set for two at one end, with various dishes spread out, each looking more delicious than the last.
But my focus isn’t on the food.
The prince lounges in his chair, the angles of his face cast in light and shadow by the glow of the candles. Nyssa steps away from me to stand off to the side, her posture straight and unyielding, the perfect image of a dutiful handmaiden. Her presence remains a comforting strength, filling me with a confidence I’m not certain I would feel on my own.
“Prince Keres,” I greet him, dipping my head as I take a seat.
“Come now,” he says. “I think we can do away with titles between us.”
I watch him closely for a moment, taking in the sly smile, the predatory gleam in his eyes, contemplating the best way to play out this scenario. I know if I make a mistake tonight, it could jeopardize the mission, but the only cues I have to go by are the ones he is sending my way.
Taking a leap of faith, I meet his gaze with a saccharine smile. “And what would you call me, then?”
His eyes flash with heat, and I know I made the right choice when he leans in closer, the faint brush of his breath fanning across my face.
“I can think of a few things I’d like to call you.” His voice is low andhusky, thick with suggestion I want to cringe away from, but I hold myself still. “But I think Aella will be sufficient. At least, for now.”
Emboldened, I lean forward, reaching for my glass of wine and making the space between Keres and myself even smaller. I smile at him over the rim, taking a small sip. I make a show of licking the wine from my bottom lip before replying, noting the way his eyes track the movement.
“Then I suppose I’ll return the favor.”
Keres smiles at me like he’s won something, and I can’t help but smile back. Not a smirk with the intention to seduce, but a genuine smile. Because he may think he’s winning, but the reality is that I’m playing an entirely different game.
As though summoned by that very thought, a dark form appears outside the window, dropping from the floor above to land precariously on the window ledge. I watch as the figure pauses, studying the candlelit scene before edging toward the lounge room to our right.
Raven.
Keres turns toward the window, but I reach out, tracing a gentle finger along his hand. His focus shifts back to me, and I flick my eyes toward Nyssa. “Leave us,” I say dismissively, as though she means nothing to me at all. Just a handmaiden.
She’ll give me grief for that later.
The dismissal offers a convenient excuse for my brief lapse in focus, while also allowing her to assist Raven in finding a safer, more straightforward way into Keres’s chambers—no need for precarious window lockpicking with the risk of plummeting to a rocky demise.
Nyssa offers a graceful curtsy to us both before disappearing through the draped archway leading to the antechamber. I turn my attention back to Keres.
“So tell me, then, what does a prince search for in his future bride?” I ask, swirling the cup of wine. “I’m sure you know what you’re hoping to see through the trials.”
“You mean aside from all the things my father expects of me?” His expression turns thoughtful, and he leans across the table, plucking a rose from the vase at its center. He holds it between two fingers,twisting it back and forth as he examines it and—I assume—my question. Before my eyes, the rose withers. Keres leaches it of life until nothing but a lackluster husk remains.
I’d once read that the magic of the Anemoi gifted to the royal bloodlines was stolen. Ripped from the land they came from before they found the Empyrieos. At first, they’d claimed it for themselves. But after the God War, they passed it on to the families who would rule in their stead.
Thetheïkósof Eretria was the exact opposite of its western neighbor, Reveza. Where they harnessed the power of spring and growth in the west, here they controlled the power of autumn.
The power to wither.
To decay.
Keres hands me the rose, and I accept it, suppressing a shudder as our fingers brush.
“I need a bride who is strong. Resilient,” he says. “Someone who can be my match in every way.”
It’s an effort not to roll my eyes at the way his words roll off his tongue. As though he’s practiced them in the mirror countless times before. I let another slow smile unfurl across my lips, and Keres’s eyes lock on them again. “A very diplomatic answer, Prince.”
“Perhaps you’ll offer me one in return?”
