“Just me?”
“Only you.”
I lowered my face, calculation and dread tangling in my gut. I would be alone in this. Alone to figure out exactly how much I could afford to say—and what had to stay buried.
Dorian’s hand moved between us. His fingers came to rest on my arm.
I nearly jerked away. Our eyes locked.
His were steady on me. Hazel, carmine at the center. Sweat touched his brow. But most of my attention was on his hand. His touch was warm through the leathers, and something low in me tightened, like a thread pulled taut beneath my ribs. My gaze flicked, unwilling, to his mouth.
Was I attracted to him?
Fuck, that’s the last thing I need right now.
“I don’t know what happened to bring the others back.” His voice had gone low. “I don’t know what you did. But I suspect.”
He wasn’t asking me to confess. He wasn’t pushing me.
So I didn’t speak. It was better not to.
“If you had any part in ending the trial,” he said, “don’t tell her, Eury.”
So Dorian could keep secrets.Wecould keep secrets. I lifted my brows. “And what happens if I do?”
His grip tightened on my arm. “She’ll kill you.”
“She can kill me during the trials?”
“She’ll find a way.” His throat moved in a hard swallow. “In our court, a threat cannot be allowed to live.”
That eveningI was summoned not to Rhiannon’s chambers but to the throne room.
My footsteps were the only sound on the marble stairs. She sat alone atop the dais, watching me approach down the long central aisle.
Rhiannon was magnificent in her green robes and diadem, the wide sleeves trailing down to the dais steps. A slit down the center revealed the curve of her strong calves, her bare feet pale and unadorned against the stone. She was almost too brilliant to look upon—and I suspected that was intentional.
Across her lap she held a gnarled scepter, its wound branches sharpened into wicked points at one end. As I approached, she lowered it onto her knees and brought both hands together beneath her chin.
“Eurydice Waters, first out of the Eldermaze.” Her voice rang through the cavernous hall. Deep, resonant, unchallengeable.
In the weeks I’d spent at court, I’d learned to bow before royalty. The spiritstag had shown me the same deference when it granted my request. I lowered my head. “Queen Rhiannon.”
“How old are you, child?”
I raised my eyes. “Twenty.”
“I see why Dorian calls you rabbit.” Her blue eyes gleamed likefaceted jewels. “You are flighty, aren’t you? I can practically hear your heart thumping.”
I could hear it, too, thudding against my ribs like a trapped creature. That was real. There was nothing safe to say, so I said nothing.
“And yet,” Rhiannon said, leaning forward, “you like being thought of as a rabbit.”
It was as if she had peeled back my skin and peered straight inside. She couldn’t know that. Not truly. But Dorian had warned me: she was cunning enough to know everything without needing proof.
“You’re surprised,” Rhiannon said. “More surprised, or less, I wonder, than when the spiritstag granted your request?”
I allowed my fingers to tremble. That was real, too; I usually clenched my fists against my hands’ tremble when I was nervous.
