“That’s the worst of the news,” the Paragon said, confirming my guess. “From here on you can begin to build your own path. Today you’ll get settled, and tomorrow I expect you’ll be asked to choose your steward—they’ll be your right hand in all of this.”
I also stood up and retrieved the trashed McDonald’s bag. “Any tips on who to choose when I can’t trust anyone?”
The Paragon shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Don’t let yourself be swayed by sob stories. Instead, question everyone—and watch carefully for any vague or misleading words they use.”
“Cool, I always wanted to play detective in a struggle to preserve my life. This should be thrilling.” I wadded up the bag and followed the Paragon as he led the way out of the abandoned gardens.
He chuckled. “I think you’ll do better than you expect, Leila. I suspect your sarcasm will help you slice through all the lies your Court will try to feed you.”
“I hope so,” I said grimly. “Because I don’t have any other options.”
Chapter Eight
Leila
As the Paragon predicted, I was shown to my room in my new mansion.
I’ll admit, the room was a giant perk—not enough to make up for the whole everyone-may-try-to-kill-me thing, but the massive bed, with the bathtub that was practically the size of a small pool, did a lot to improve my mood.
I didn’t sleep a lot—all of the ugly truths the Paragon had dropped on me didn’t exactly lull me off to sleep, and despite his dismissal I still was pretty worried aboutthe Wraith.
But I used my sleeplessness to my advantage and went over some of the financial records the Paragon handed off to me earlier in the day.
I thought the Paragon had been speaking figuratively when he said Nyte bankrupted the Court. Nope! Of course not! We had literally no money left, and the Court was up to its neck in debt.
Around two in the morning I started making a list of some of the expenses I’d have to jettison—the luxury condo in Chicago was going to be the first thing to go as soon as I found someone trustworthy to sell it—but while I felt productive, it wasn’t exactly a mood lifter.
Thankfully, my mood vastly improved after a sunrise swim in my bathtub and eating a protein bar and apple—some of the snacks I’d packed in the two duffle bags I had filled with food and brought with me.
Not surprisingly, I was all the way to the stables—a luxurious building that was nicer than my parents’ house with a fancy vaulted ceiling, cobblestone flooring, and individual skylights over every horse’s stall—before anyone realized I was up.
“Queen Leila!”
I’d been staring up at a beautiful glass tea set—yes, a tea setin abarn, and the teapot andthe cups all looked spotless, which had to be magic—that was carefully arranged on a wooden serving tray that appeared to be bolted to the wall as a decoration of sorts. But at the sound of my name I peered down the stable aisle in time to see a flabbergasted dryad drop the pitchfork she was holding and bend herself in half in a hasty bow. “I—this is—”
“Good morning.” I tried to sound warm and inviting. “Sorry for showing up unannounced—if that’s a thing?”
The dryad didn’t get up from her bow. Her brown hair—which was threaded with beautiful green leaves—hung down and covered most of her face. “I am entirely at your service, Queen Leila. The stable is yours to see whenever you wish.”
“Okay, thank you.” I studied her, trying to figure out how to get her to stop bowing to me, which felt ridiculous. I decided to go for bluntness. “You can stand up.”
“I wouldn’t presume, Queen Leila.”
“It’s fine!” I breezily said. I meandered around the disbelieving dryad and walked deeper into the stables, making my way toward the fancy stalls. “The night mares live here now? The Paragon mentioned they were wild for a while, but…” I trailed off as I stared at the wondrous creatures that peered out at me from their stalls.
The dryad popped out of her bow and scurried after me. “No, Queen Leila. The sun stallions are kept here,” she supplied.
Beautiful horses—some a stark white color that had the intensity of the afternoon sun, some the same beautiful gold color of sunrise, while others the red shade of sunset—nickered invitingly to me.
Flames in hues of blues and orange flickered in their manes and tails, and their eyes were a bright, blazing white that flashed with the same intelligence I could see in the night mares. Everything about them reminded me of the sun, and even the daylight that poked through the skylights seemed to almost bend around them.
“Aren’t you handsome?” I slowly approached the first stall, which housed one of the smaller boned horses. It hung its head over the door of its stall and nickered at me.
When it stretched out its neck in a clear invitation, I stepped even closer and stroked its muscled neck. “Are they all stallions?” I asked.
The stable worker cleared her throat. “No, the name is something of a misnomer—like the night mares. All of the sun stallions here are geldings and mares.”
The sun stallion I was petting lowered its head and breathed its warm, horsey breath into my face. Something inside me relaxed. “I’m guessing they’re from the Day Court?”
