Ilya dismounts with the grace of someone used to riding in sleighs, then proffers his gloved hand. “Ladies.”
Antoni’s gaze locks on Ilya’s palm as Naeva uses it to disembark.
The intensity with which he tracks her every move isn’t lost on the Glacin royal who, as we walk arm-in-arm behind the two rigid Serpents, leans over to whisper, “I believe that one hates me.”
“Don’t take it personally.” I shrug. “He hates most people.”
“Not Naeva,” Ilya murmurs.
“Except her.”
“I probably should ease up on my seduction game,” he says as two glass doors split open to welcome us into an octagonal space.
I laugh. “Is that what your wish to sleep between Naeva and me was?”
He gives me a saucy wink that solidifies my liking of him. Ilivefor humor and wit. If my future mate isn’t endowed with both, I will demand a refund.
Skies, to think that I may cross paths withthe onetonight. The thought is sobering. Behati probably lied, I remind myself, turning my entire focus outward so as not to contemplate my gut-churning fate.
The Lodge sprawls wide with its lofty timber walls and floor-to-ceiling picture windows. Eight glass pillars of fire, rooted in the slate tiles, shoot toward the rafters, infusing the rustic space with a modern feel that reminds me of Nebba—even as the plaid upholstery and tan suede whisper of our sky castle.
“Are the pillars filled withactualfire?” I crane my neck, trailing one of the flaming columns toward the ceiling where beams join to shape a snowflake.
“Yes. Faerie-fire contained in tempered glass,” Ilya explains. “I wouldn’t advise brushing up against it.”
“If it’s anything like those orbs in the palace hallway, then I’ll be keeping my distance.”
“Holy reindeer droppings, don’t tell me you touched one of them?” he exclaims.
“Reindeer droppings?” I repeat, a giddy thrill zipping through me.
Each Yuletide, Agrippina would tell us a story about the rare species of reindeer that can be found deep in the mountains of Glace and that can—apparently—fly.
“Pardon the expression. Old habits.”
“Oh, it’s not the expression that arrested me; it’s the reindeer part. I’ve heard so many stories about them. Is it true they fly?”
“They hop and manage to stay airborne for a handful of seconds. I doubt a Crow—such as yourself—would qualify that as flying.”
The molten timbre has my gaze veering off Ilya and settling higher, onto a face that is so starkly different, it seems impossible it was molded by the blood of the same man.
“We also have orcas, elk, bears, and seals,” Konstantin adds.
“That fly?” I ask.
“No. I was just mentioning them since I hear they only exist in our part of the world.”
“And whales,” Ilya adds. “Naeva mentioned wanting to take a dip with them tomorrow, but since orcas have a taste for serpent meat, my worrywart brother has demanded that no one venture into the ocean.” He glances over his shoulder at said worrywart, then does a double-take. “Which royal did you tick off in my absence, Kostya?”
Gray eyes trace the fingers with which I clasp Ilya’s dinner jacket. “The one dangling from your arm.”
7
ISLA
Ilya’s head whips between Konstantin and me so many times that he makes me think of a weathervane caught in a squall.
“Youpunched my brother?” Since he doesn’t back away from me, I surmise he’s more shocked than appalled.
