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“I won’t,” I croaked.
I’d been honored before, but I’d never felt gratitude quite like this. Like my chest was no longer big enough to fit my swollen heart.
My gaze fell to the little soldier toy. There were people I’d do anything to get back to. Cal. Malcom. The brothers who were once my entire world. But now, there were fae here I’d fight just as hard to protect. There were parts of my own realm I desperately missed, and parts of this realm that captivated me. Both halves enslaved a piece of my soul, one from years of living there, and one from suddenly sneaking in and making a home before I knew what had happened.
My heart couldn’t crack like the fae’s did. But someday, the two sides might split me all the same.
Odette stayed by my side until dawn when she yawned, stretched her arms, and strolled away. I tried not to envy her freedom, but it pricked me all the same. One more week.
The palace fell into its quiet trance once more, the kind Gaia and I would never be able to fill. The palace was larger than I could familiarize myself with in two years, begging to be lived in. Someday, I would love to fill the chambers with guests, turn the hollow echoes into laughter and make this a home.
“That won’t happen,” I reminded myself. I fanned out my skirts to kneel on the ground and, now alone, finally held the new painting at arm’s length. “Show me how she lived.”
Starlight crept over the painting, bringing to life the stars on the canvas like diamonds on a black sheet, until they spread to the air and threw themselves at the ceiling.
The room fragmented before splitting away. What remained was a night sky, stretching as far as I could see. Cool air flanked my arms while silk grazed my wrists as a flowing violet dress hung from my shoulders with billowing sleeves and thin layers of blush crepe skirts.
The sun of my previous vision clearly marked the mortal realm. Night belonged to both realms, but there was no mistaking the fae world.
I stood at the edge of an island, overlooking another. The second island had a looming tower built of rock at the edge, almost teetering off the side. At the top it shot outward, connecting to a glass orb hanging over nothingness. Tiny lights adorned this orb, and my first thought—or was it Dhalia’s?—was how nice it would be to read in that nook, hanging over an empty sky.
“Morten?” My voice called. Her voice was sweeter than mine, like honey and dash of innocence. Dhalia turned, and we looked into the eyes of a man wearing a burnt-orange vest and three nose rings. “Can I align with two Houses?”
His head tilted to the side. He thought for a moment before answering. When he did, hurt rested in his expression. “Are the Delvers not enough?”
Inside, I smiled. We’d chosen the same House to align with. Our first similarity.
“It’s not that.” She messed with the bracelets around her wrists, and I felt the cold metal just as she did. “I need as much power as I can get.”
He stepped near her. “It’s unusual to align with a second. But if any could convince the rules to bend, it would be you.” Adoration seeped into his every word in a different way than Talen spoke to me. He squeezed her hand, and only because I was a part of her did I feel the affection in the way his touch lingered. The way her hand trembled for his the moment he pulled away.
Fascinating. The Mortal Queen cared for a fae. And he, as Bash had once described such a circumstance, was foolish enough to fall for a Mortal Queen.
A new thought. Was he how she survived?
A string of jealousy wound in my chest. She didn’t have to fight alone. His affection for her would lead him to fight alongside her. That was something I didn’t have—a true ally. One I could trust in such a way.
From above, a chariot came to land on stone. Dhalia stood in the same courtyard that sat outside my palace, with the same river running through, though the area looked slightly different. There weren’t seven thrones at the end for the kings. The trees didn’t bear as much fruit. Even the neighboring islands were different.
“Be nice,” Morten warned. Dhalia put on a smile.
The new arrival coughed before stepping from the chariot. His ivory skin gained warmth in the flicker of torchlight, and it made his smile appear kind. There was a vibrance to his step as he crossed the courtyard with both hands held out.
They clasped mine as he took Dhalia’s. “You are a vision of beauty, my Queen. The fairest High Queen we’ve ever had.”
I felt the aversion inside Dhalia. But she replied, “Nothing compared to your glory, my King.”
My attention focused more intently on this man now. He wasn’t a current king.
He coughed again and cleared his throat. “I’d love to talk business”—another cough—“but first, could I have some water?”
He looked at Morten when asking this. Morten shifted uneasily. Dhalia nodded to him, and Morten bowed to her.
“Of course, King Ulther. I’ll go fetch some.”
Dhalia smoothed her dress, trying not to look after Morten.
King Ulther smiled again. “How has your first month been?”
