Elayne delicately cut a slice of meat, chewing it fully before speaking again. “What sort of entertainment is favored in Baylaur?”
My finger paused its tracing. “I like to watch the acolytes dance.”
Cyara snorted into her wineglass.
Elayne cut her a look , then opened her mouth to say more. But I spared her the explanation. “Is your priestess here as infuriating as the one in my own court?”
It was all mine, I remembered. Eilean Gayl, Wolf Bay, Baylaur. My court. I could take this ancient castle, Arran’s birthright, as a private holiday residence and kick every occupant into the frigid lake outside.
And I would pay the consequences.
Torn allegiances. Uprising. Coup attempts. I’d dealt with enough of that shit already.
But the power thrumming in my veins, the blades at my hips, they begged me to do it. To make myself a queen of blood, not just in name.
“They are mostly docile, since the Great War,” Elayne said. “They steep themselves in prophecies and lore, and only come out to bother us at festival time.”
Prophecies and lore. I’d had enough of that nonsense as well. But if the priestess here was a student of history, if she studied the prophecies of old… maybe she would know something about the succubus, even if it was called by a different name. Maybe she would have theories about the missing Ethereal queen. If Parys was right, and the Ethereal and Void Prophecies were really one, then that was the only missing piece.
Pant propped one elbow on the table, ripping into a leg of lamb with his teeth. “Are you so devout yourself, Majesty? Arran was only ever interested in the festivals that involved fucking.” He punctuated his statement with a broad wink.
Elayne did not tense at his brazen implication. She did not even roll her eyes—as if she was used to it by now. A theory began to form in my mind as I sipped my wine and lifted an imperious eyebrow at the Lord of Eilean Gayl.
“Hardly,” I said. “My interests are well aligned with my mate’s.”
Elayne did stiffen then, at that word. Mate. A fairytale, a myth. An inexplicable, unforeseen link between her beloved son and me.
Let them remember—he may be their son, their heir. Even their king. But he was my mate. And if they did not understand what that meant, I did. If Arran returned—whenhe returned—they would learn as well.
Pant could make his crass jokes to try and unbalance me. Elayne would let him, slipping in her perfectly timed, polite questions. A cleverly orchestrated partnership. But nothing compared to the twisted threads of the elemental court where I’d been raised. Nearly murdered.
Elayne refilled my wine herself. “We were shocked to hear of your mating,” she said. “And pleased.”
Was she trying to get me inebriated so my mask would slip? It would take more than three glasses of wine.
I took a deep drink and smiled, letting just a hint of wickedness show. “Weren’t we all.”
Ask about my power.
It was the next logical question. She’d even implied it.Shocked to hear about your mating—and the mysterious explosion of power that had poured from me. I’d appeared from nothingness into the middle of the hall. Every terrestrial in this castle was wondering about my power and what it meant.
But Elayne held her silence.
“Arran always was a protective bastard,” Pant chortled, rubbing his finger and thumb over the close-cropped beard the covered his chin. Such an irreverent way of referring to the protective instincts that governed Arran’s every action. That had almost torn us apart. Did they truly not know him? Or were they betting that I didn’t?
“We doubted he’d ever marry,” the lord continued. “Let alone take a mate, only to let her go running across the kingdom without him.”
Well-played.
So masterful, it was almost worthy of an elemental. They’d been building to this since the beginning of the conversation. Every word chosen to get to this question—where was Arran?
Like hell was I going to tell them the truth. I needed to rally the terrestrial kingdom to push back the succubus. Trying to explain that I’d nearly killed their King was more than a mistake. It was gambling with my own life as well.
Even if these were Arran’s parents.
Even if this castle felt like home. A place I belonged, when all I’d had were gilded cages.
Being myself here was dangerous. Especially without Arran to guard my back.
