My chest tightened.I hated you,he’d said to me before the Thorn Rite.You were my burden, my death.And I’d felt that. I’d felt it so keenly, he might as well have stabbed me with a real blade.
Murderer.
Now, more than ever, I understood some part of Rhiannon. Why she couldn’t keep anyone close. Here in Feyreign, secrets were like vipers waiting to be uncovered. And Dorian was masterful at keeping them.
My eyes closed. I turned my face to bring Faun back into view. The act made my head throb and my eyes ache as I opened them. “How long?”
“Three days,” Dorian said. His voice was low, a rasp.
“During which you’ve only slept,” Faun said, “and he hasn’t.”
My eyebrows rose. “At all?”
Faun gave a slight tilt of her head, pressed her lips together. An affirmation.
Three days. That was an eternity. “Dorian…”
He came around the side of the bed, appearing next to Faun. “What matters now is your court.”
I could barely form the words. “My court?”
“Your inner court,” Faun said. “You must name one. Today, before everything gets away from you. Your second, your weaponsmaster, your consort…”
I lifted my head an inch. “Myconsort?”
Faun’s gaze flicked to Dorian, who met it with a dark one of his own. Something passed between them, and he gave a single nod. His eyes snapped to mine and softened. “I’ll be outside.”
I watched him turn. He didn’t walk like a man who hadn’t slept in three days. He was still as upright, as powerful as ever. I still remembered the way he’d walked toward me that night, in his bedchamber.
A sting pierced my chest. Forget that night.
He opened the door, stepped through it, and left Faun and me alone.
She sat on the edge of the bed next to me. “Listen to me. The other courts already know.”
“Know what?”
“Of Rhiannon’s death. Of your ascendance. They know you’re weak, untrained.”
How had news spread so fast? Then Faun’s words sank in:weak, untrained.“I beat her,” I said, heat rising to my throat. “Isn’t that enough?”
“Not nearly.” Faun’s chin lowered. Her gaze on me was imperious, and I wondered at how a fae like her could ever be a servant. “Rhiannon was a weak queen. Paranoid. She got rid of her second-in-command fifty years ago—cut off his head. She never named a king or consort. She had terrific aim with a bow, a great grasp of magic, and no foresight.”
That heat stayed in my throat. “It wasn’t a lack of foresight that killed her.”
“The spiritstag never would have directed her to attack the Kingdom of Storms if she had been stronger.”
“Directed her?”
Faun’s face shuttered. “Our magic doesn’t extend past our kingdom except at the direction of the gods. You saw wraiths that night, didn’t you?”
I nodded.
“The wraiths cannot leave our lands unless the stag wills it.” She paused. “You think a queen with no foresight contrives a plan to attack your kingdom of her own volition? We don’t batter down walls, Eurydice. We climb them in the night.”
I sucked in a breath. “But if the goal was to kill changelings…”
“Rhiannon thought it was.” Faun’s hand landed on my forearm. “Is that what you believe?”
