But it’s not Amarantha that makes me freeze.
It’s the human kneeling beside her throne.
Davis.
Naked. Collared. A golden leash running from his throat to Amarantha’s hand. She’s given him a velvet cushion. Like a favored pet.
His eyes are clear. Alert. Not spelled.
He looks at me with something that might be hatred. Might be jealousy.
And I realize, with the particular clarity that comes from years of watching monsters: he’s not here against his will.
He’s home.
The man who spent years trying to cage Ash, who saw love as ownership and control as devotion, he finally found a queen who speaks his language.
I catalog him the way I catalog all threats. Weaknesses: obvious. Leverage: limited. Usefulness: to be determined.
Then I focus on the more immediate problem.
“Amarantha.”
“Tsk-tsk.” She rises slowly, the silk flowing around her like water. Her hair is straight today, falling past her waist, and her eyes hold excitement. I’ve learned to recognize it over the years of surviving her.
That’s never good.
“I prefer Queen,” she says, descending the dais toward me.
Davis’s eyes track her movement with naked hunger. His hands clench on his thighs. He doesn’t like her walking toward me.
Interesting.
“Queen Amarantha,” I correct, keeping my voice neutral.
“It’ll do.” She stops in front of me, close enough that her silk brushes my knees. “For now.”
She begins to circle.
I track her by sound when she’s behind me, so I know always know where she is. The goal is to never let her surprise you. those lessons are written in scar tissue.
“Someone marked you.” Her fingers press into Badb’s claw wounds. I don’t flinch. “How...territorial.”
“The journey was difficult.”
“Was it?” She completes her orbit, each step deliberate, her silk brushing my skin. She stops in front of me again. “You smell like wild magic, cousin. Like earth and thorns and something distinctly... feral.”
I keep my face blank. My thoughts blank. The taste of Ash buried so deep even I can barely find it.
“You’ve been with her.” Amarantha’s fingers find my chin, tilting my head up until I’m forced to meet her eyes. “The Wild Court heir. My prize that you helped steal from me.”
“I’ve been in the borderlands.”
“Don’t.” Her grip tightens. “Don’t insult us both with lies you know I can smell.”
No Fae can lie. She knows this.
“You summoned me, my queen. I assume not for conversation about my travel arrangements.”
