Whatever. I take another hit from the pipe, but Owena snatches it from my hands before I’m done. “Hey!”
I hold myself back from fighting her for it; if she wants to play hard to get, letting her loosen up more could be exactly what I need. She scooches away as she inhales, then relaxes with her back against the wall. I slump next to her, taking it out of her loose grip.
“So where do you want us to live?” I send some smoke rings toward the ceiling. “The south? I assume it’s warmer there.”
“That would be my preference, yes.” Soft curls tickle my cheek as her shoulder sinks into mine.
“I could do that. Get away from my mother.”
Owena lets out a sharp laugh. “That’s why it’s unlikely to happen. She won’t let you go.”
“She doesn’t care about me that much.” If she did, she wouldn’t be forcing me to marry.
“Caringhas nothing to do with it. We’re both just tools for our parents. We live and die at their whims.”
Huh?“What are you talking about?”
The shadows of the room flicker in the candlelight as Owena goes quiet, picking at my fingers. “There’s so much you don’t understand, Caeo.”
“Then explain it to me.”
“You’re better off not knowing.”
“You don’t get to decide that.” My stomach tightens, and my high wavers as goosebumps tingle a warning down my spine. But I need to push. To know.
“Who’s Taran?” I ask.
Owena closes her eyes, taking a breath. “Your brother. The one your mother’s in the process of stealing the realm from.”
My high is officially gone. I drop her hand.
“What?”
My brain stumbles through my memories, through conversations with Mother. There—when I first woke up here.I was alone, without my family. I decided I would make a new one.
Oh shit.
“I thought she took the realm from her husband when he died.”
Owena opens her eyes, their darkness full of sympathy. “Gethin wasn’t an Evermoor. Taran inherited the throne when your mother was exiled, and Gethin ruled since he was a child. I’m fairly certain my father organized his assassination on your mother’s behalf, allowing her to reclaim the throne—I know he was smuggling her water near the end. Our marriage is simply a cover to hide the true reason for peace between our realms.”
Fuck.That’s probably Taran’s bed I’m sleeping in. He must hate me for taking his place.
This is not what I was expecting from loosening Owena’s lips. The room’s closing in around me, its spacious luxury turning foreign and cramped.
I groan as I rub my face, thinking back to the party guests. They didn’t seem troubled by this at all. “Why doesn’t this bother anyone?”
“Ignoring that she has my father’s support, you’ll find most people don’t care who rules as long as their lives are comfortable. And she ruled for centuries, while Taran’s barely more than a child by our standards.”
I drop my hand. “But she wants to start a war.”
Owena gathers her hair away from her neck, smoothing it out. “As far as the people know, her returnendedthe conflict with Ystyr—war with the mortals feels more abstract, since they can’t attack our villages. It’s more palatable than taking up arms against other fae.”
“And you didn’t think it’d be helpful for me to know any of this? What happened to being friends?”
“How does knowing this help you?” Owena asks, her voice hardening. “By sharing it, I’ve only made your life more difficult. Which makesmylife more difficult.”
“I could confront her, at least.”
