I rested my palms on the stone bench, grimacing when I felt dirt and grit smudge my palm. “And I’m supposed to try to win?”
“I don’t know if ‘winning’ is possible,” the Paragon said. “This game is much like a chess match with a hundred players all on one board. The truth is no one wins for long. The status quo is always changing, nobles are forever falling in and out of favor, and the Courts are always in opposition—though they may temporarily unite against a common enemy.”
I heard scuttling, and through the dim light shed by the moon and the bright stars, I was able to see a creature that shouldered its way through the garden underbrush.
It was a griffin. Not the lion-sized, noble creatures from a picture book, heck no. Not in this grungy place! This cat-sized griffin looked like a combination of a raccoon and a pigeon.
It had the mottled gray wings, the extra round and empty head, and the unnerving orange eyes of a pigeon, but the rotund, fluffy body of a raccoon.
It was dragging a McDonald’s takeout bag through the garden—I had no idea how it found that here in the fae realm—which it ripped open with its stumpy front legs that ended in creepy pigeon feet.
This place is bizarre.
I felt for the charm bracelet that dangled from my wrist—it was a magic tool my mom had gotten for me when I attended magic classes at the Curia Cloisters.
Unlike wizards—who channeled raw, wild magic through their bodies—fae had to use artifacts to wield magic if we wanted to do anything more than the innate abilities we were born with. Artifacts filtered the magic and let us use it to cast spells and charms, but there was a huge variety in artifacts—from modern, mass produced ones like my charm bracelet, to antique items that were made by elves or the occasional overpowered wizard.
The variety of artifacts meant there was also a lot of diversity in fae abilities. Not everyone was capable of wielding an elf-made artifact, but if you were, you’d beinsanelypowerful with the right artifact.
“How are you taking this?” the Paragon asked.
“It feels a bit unreal,” I admitted. “But the backstabbing and power struggle doesn’t come as a huge surprise to me. Although it seems like surviving will be harder than I thought.”
“You do have some advantages—your friendship with Hazel Medeis and Killian Drake, foremostly. And of course, I shall try to aid you whenever possible as well.” He hesitated, then said, “There is one more thing—which may lighten your load. Though I doubt you’re going to like it.”
I finally pulled my gaze away from the pigeon-raccoon-griffin—which had almost choked itself on a dried-out French fry. “What?”
“It’s just one matter.” He held his pointer finger and thumb the tiniest bit apart in a display.
“You can’tsayit’s a small matter, which means it’s big. What is it?”
“Oh, it’s a tradition. A very old, required one that you’ll have to follow now that you’re the queen.”
“And that is?”
“Ah. Yes. Ahem. Your marriage.”
I relaxed slightly. “Oh, that’s not a problem. I always figured I’d be fine being an old cat lady. I’ll stay single and die alone.”
The Paragon laughed nervously. “Ahaha, you can’t.”
“Whatdo you mean?”
The Paragon grimaced. “It’s part of the crowning tradition. The night mares pick the next monarch, the monarch is bound—usually by an acceptance ceremony, but you skipped that step since the night mares did it. The monarch then chooses his or her spouse, and the couple is sworn in together when the chosen monarch is publicly crowned.”
My ears rang as I struggled with this newest complication.
It wasn’t enough that I can’t just have a normal life anymore, no, no. I also have to get shoved into an unwanted relationship that probably has a zero chance of being healthy and meaningful.
“The Night Court has the stupidest traditions I’ve ever heard of,” I said. “And also ridiculously backwater. Have the rules been updated at all since the Middle Ages?”
The Paragon held his hands up in a foolish attempt to pacify me. “I’m aware of how distasteful it appears to be. But you can only be crowned after you marry, and youneedto be crowned if you want to survive against the other Courts. The Night Court has to listen to you already due to the night mares binding you. The other Courts won’t officially recognize you until you’re crowned, and that will paralyze your efforts to consolidate power for yourself.”
“I’m not even twenty-three years old yet. And you’re telling me I need to choose a husbandright now?” I rubbed my eyes and felt the stabbing sensation of a headache settling into my temples.
“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” the Paragon said.
“Really?” I drawled. “Marrying someone who is going to hate me for being human and also have a lot of political power isn’t as bad as it sounds?
