“You devious Fae.”
She looks so pleased with herself. Then she turns toward another door.
“Come on out, Tiana.” Her whisper carries through the room like a summoning. Then she smiles at me. “I’d like you to meet the true Queen of the Seelie Court.”
The door opens.
She’s tall. Dark skin that gleams like polished wood in the firelight. Eyes even darker, ancient, patient, burning with something that’s been waiting a very long time to surface. Her hair is cropped close to her head, and on her brow sits a crown of living clover, tiny leaves unfurling in real time.
The room shifts when she enters. Not physically, magically. Like the air itself bows.
I feel it in my chest. In the Wild magic that’s been quiet since I arrived in this court. It stirs. Recognizes something in her. Responds.
She moves like a queen. Like someone who’s spent years hiding that fact and is finally, finally done pretending.
“Tatiana’s heir,” Kestra supplies, watching my face. “The one she was actually grooming. The one Amarantha didn’t know about.”
The true Queen of the Seelie Court. Not Amarantha. Never Amarantha.
Standing in Kieran’s sitting room, looking at me like I’m the final piece of a puzzle she’s been building for decades.
“You devious Fae,” I say to Kestra. Then again, because once isn’t enough: “You absolutely devious Fae.”
Because somehow, somehow, this unassuming princess has gathered three true queens of Faerie in one room.
Wild. Unseelie. Seelie.
And not one of them is the person currently sitting on a throne.
“Now.” Kestra stands. Tiana moves to flank her. Two queens, side by side, looking at me like I’m the third point of a triangle that’s about to change everything. “Let’s take back Faerie.”
The bond at my wrist pulses. Gold. Desperate. Wrong.
Finnian.
“We start with Finnian.” The words come out harder than I intend. Not a suggestion. A command. “Whatever Amarantha is doing to him right now, we end it. Tonight.”
Kestra’s smile sharpens. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Tiana’s eyes gleam. “I’ve been waiting thirty years for someone to say those words.” Her voice is low, rich, patient, the voice of someone who learned to survive by outlasting everyone who underestimated her.
Three queens.
One goal.
“Now what?” I ask, excitement humming under my skin.
“Rest,” Kestra says. “We have a few hours before we need to run.”
“We’re leaving?” I sit up straighter.
“We need to.” Tiana shakes her head. “You still hold glamour that you need to shed. And you must reconnect with the wilds.”
“She’s right,” Kestra agrees. “Rest. Escape. Live to plan their downfall.”
Sleep, sure. The bond pulses at my wrist. Gold. Desperate. Still there.
Hold on, Finnian. We’re coming.
