She chortles some more at my expense, while I tense. I may not fear the Crow King, but I do fear his reaction to the news that his pride and joy will be pretending to be my mate for the better part of the coming year. Yes, I’m magically bound to protect Isla with my own life—Fallon saw to that yesterday when she dropped by my chambers at dawn to claim her bargain—but being a mated male himself, I suspect he’ll worry I’ll take advantage of his daughter.
The memory of Isla’s curves, cloaked in black silk, blazes across my mind. I clasp my lids to banish it, but it backfires, for more of her body develops against the soft tissue—her slender shoulders, her delicate neck, her sun-kissed skin, her rosy lips. I sweep my lashes upward, jamming them so high, I’ve no doubt the guards lining the stairwell think me utterly deranged.
“Relax, brother.” Izolda is grinning. “I’m certain Lore will be thrilled about the match.” She pats my knuckles that are now white with tension. “You’re everything a father could want for his daughter.”
“I doubt he’ll be thrilled about her living in Glace.”With a man who isn’t her mate…
“Luce isn’t that far away.” After a beat, she says, “Please give me a nephew or a niece immediately. Please. Please.Please.”
The muscle beneath my ribs thuds hard, flushing my veins with anguish. I cannot think of children, because thinking of children has me picturing Isla’s body once more, and I need to stop picturing her when she’s not around. I tug at the collar of my jacket to allow cool air to slick beneath the fine wool blend and relieve the fire engulfing my skin.
I concentrate on the candlelight flickering over the pale quartz walls as we descend deeper into the belly of my castle. When the air fills with soft music and the fragrance of warm pastries, I finally see what my sister has been up to for the last few months. “An ice cavern?”
“It’s all glass made to resemble ice. Isn’t it spectacular? The icicles were handblown in Nebba, the tables carved in Luce, and the glowing, white blooms sailed over from Shabbe. I felt that putting every empire to contribution would cement our alliance.”
“Brilliant.” I glance down at my clever sister. “And you claim to understand nothing about politics…”
“I don’t. Politics are Ksenia’s thing. Not mine.” She beams up at me, her two hands winding around my bicep now.
Though the feather she wears is in no way new, I stare at it as though it were. To think my sister shares a mind link with a Crow… Isla and I might be able to fool many people, but will we manage to fool Izolda?
Perhaps I could tell just her.
I try to decide how best to formulate the truth with so many sprites and Faeries around. Even though they all keep their gazes on whatever task they were given and music plays from a brass quartet perched on an ice podium, I worry the ones nearest us have their ears pricked.
Before I find the adequate words, Ksenia appears. “You really went all out, didn’t you? Should’ve hosted the revel in the White Fang and spent the coin you needed to recreate it on the impoverished. You are aware, Kostya, that out of the four lands, we have the highest rate of famine per human capita?”
Izolda’s fingers clench around my bicep.
I narrow my stare. “Provisions are sent weekly to every household in need of aid, so I’m uncertain where you get your information from, sister, but it’s erroneous.”
“She probably gets her information from her human besties.” Izolda peers around her twin’s body as though expecting Ksenia’s mortal friends to smudge my stairs.
“I get my information at the source. From the people themselves.”
I think of the soot-covered men in the tavern with the rotted teeth. Are those the people Ksenia speaks of?
“How about you convene your friends to sup at the castle tomorrow?” I suggest.
The black pinpricks of Ksenia’s pupils tighten against the blue. “Why?”
Interesting, how on the defensive she is… “Because I wish to meet them to discuss their grievances.”
Bangles roll around her pale wrists as she lifts one palm to smooth her curled hair. “Why does your invitation sound more like a threat?”
I square my shoulders, tautening the already narrow fit of my ashen uniform. “Perception is influenced by mindset.”
With a sudden hiss, Izolda snatches her twin’s bell sleeve and flips it over. “I can’t believe you, Ksen. Why do you insist on wearing these?”
I study the bangles, which I’d initially assumed fashioned from pale wood, but upon closer inspection, the gleam of bone is unmistakable. “Remove them.”
“Atsa gave them to me. They have sentimental value.”
“I’ve never seen you wear them before,” I point out.
“Perhaps because you hardly see me anymore.” She snatches her arm out of Izolda’s grasp. “The tusks come from animals not from shifters, so I don’t see the harm in wearing them.”
“You don’tsee the harm? We went over this the other night, Ksen. It’s cruel and undignified.” Izolda’s tone smacks of both anger and sorrow. “Who are you, and what have you done with my sister?”
