Fuck.
Another pulse of pain. A sharp jab behind my eyes.
I duck my head and wipe at my nose, and blood smears across the back of my hand. My vision swims. My ears are filled with a high-pitched whine. My fingers come away from my temple—wet.
Not just my nose.
My ear.
“Celeste!” Nadya’s voice reaches me, sounding as if it were from somewhere far away, muffled. She pushes something into my hand. “Here.”
I nod. Or I think I do. The world won’t stay still long enough for me to be sure. I try to look at what she handed me, but everything is blurry and shifting. I tighten my hold and discover it’s cloth, so I use it to wipe my nose and ear.
The high-pitched whine in my ear fades, and my vision clears. Thank the gods my healing magic is working. The crowd slowly returns to the edge of the balcony. I glance around me, but everyone is too focused on the trial to pay attention to me. Everyone except Nadya.
And the queen’s fae.
He blinks at me, but I can’t read his expression.
I straighten my shoulders and stare him down. It’s a risky move. If he tells the queen I’m helping Dante, the trial would be forfeited, and Dante wouldn’t get Messanya’s approval for legitimization.
Besides, I can’t be sure it was entirely my power that stopped the giant wave. I can’t imagine the queen would let her audience suffer from a hit like that. And I suspect the audience believes he was in control the entire time.
I take slow, steady breaths, waiting.
Ever so slightly, the fae dips his head and turns back toward the water.
The breath I release is rasped and laced with ache. I glance down at my hands, still trembling. My pulse is a wild, frantic thing.
Below, the tide rolls out again. And Dante rises.
He bursts from the water with a roar, the queen’s trident gripped inhis hand, soaked and victorious. His chest heaves, hair plastered to his face, a bleeding gash where his chest meets his shoulder, but he is whole.
The Messanyan court erupts into stunned applause. Even the queen lifts her chin in approval.
But I can barely hear it.
Dante makes his way out of the water and marches toward Queen Verina. He hands her the trident with a bow. She dips her head, and it is only then that his shoulders slump with relief.
I slide back into my seat, trembling. My vision dims at the edges.
ChApter
Thirty-Three
I’m starving. After Dante’s trial, Nadya helped me return to my room to rest and heal, and I drifted off to sleep for a good two hours. Now that I’m awake and feeling myself again, I can acknowledge the loud grumble of my stomach, urging me to find sustenance.
The first thing I asked Nadya when I awoke was if Dante was all right. He’d been bleeding from the trial, and I had the desperate urge to heal him. But Nadya informed me that the queen’s healers had already tended to him. I wonder if one of them was the water-wielding fae.
Nadya and I make our way downstairs to the dining hall with hopes that we’ll find something to eat. The palace on the Messanyan coast is unlike anything I’ve ever known. It lacks the towering grandeur of Ivystone or the rigid austerity of Podrosa, yet its elegance is undeniable. Everything here feels soft—from the plush, velvet cushions on the chaise to the gauzy, white curtains that ripple with the evening breeze. The windows, flung wide open, invite the salt-laced air and the distant crash of waves against jagged rocks. Silver lanterns hang from delicate chains overhead, casting a warm glow across the pale, marble floors. Even in the quiet, the place hums with an energy I can’t quite name, as if the verywalls have absorbed centuries of enchantment.
The wind is quieter now. Softer. But maybe it’s simply because I’m comparing it to the roaring tsunami that threatened to wipe us out.
We slip into the kitchens, where a few servants bustle about, scraping the remnants of the grand lunch from platters and decanting sauces into small jars. The air is warm, heavy with the scent of fresh bread and roasted meat, and my stomach growls loud enough that one of the cooks glances up with a chuckle.
“Apologies,” I say. “We missed the lunch earlier. Is there any chance we could have something small?”
The woman, plump and red-cheeked, waves a dismissive hand. “Of course, Your Highness. We’ll have something prepared in the dining hall.”
