The fae bows, dragging his child back while trying to remain bent at the waist in an almost comical display of deference.
“Here,” Bree says, walking up beside me and passing me a small parcel wrapped in waxy leaves. “I know you haven’t eaten yet, so I grabbed this for you.”
“Thank—ugh!” I cut myself off, scowling at my error as Bree smirks. “It smells delicious.”
It does. The aroma of minty-sweet herbs is teasing me, making me painfully aware of my empty stomach.
“Eat on the way. We’re late enough,” Drystan orders, urging Blizzard over to us. “There are three shrines between here and our next camp.”
“I shall ride beside you for the morning,” Kitarni says, releasing my arm. “We have a few things to discuss before Prince Bramwell and I depart for Pavellen.”
“You’re leaving us?” I splutter.
“You have no need of me,” Kitarni promises. “And I must make sure that the cloister is prepared for your arrival while soothing over the Spring Queen’s ire. There is a chance she will consider your entering her city and heading straight for a temple a snub to her hospitality.”
“With Aiyana, there is an equal chance she’ll decide that your fever is a blessing and roll out a royal welcome,” Drystan mutters, offering me his palm. “Come. It won’t matter if we’re so late that you go into fever on the roadside.”
Reluctantly, I slip my free hand into his and allow him to pull me up into the saddle in front of him, releasing him as soon as I’m safely in place. Blizzard snickers softly as I pet his mane to distract myself from Drystan’s audible sniff.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, adjusting his hips in the saddle. “Let’s go.”
With a slight nudge of his heel, Blizzard obediently trots away from the temple, making his way down the flower-strewn main street. Bree rides up beside Blizzard, his cat-sìth, Naris, butting his head into my leg as he prowls alongside the huge warhorse.
“Make sure you eat,” he mumbles, before urging Naris forward, taking the lead.
Obediently, I unwrap one corner of the herby bread and take a small mouthful. It goes down smoothly, and before I know it, I’ve finished the whole thing.
A whole loaf? Really?“Goddess, why am I still hungry?”
“It’s your body,” Kitarni advises, riding up beside me to take Bree’s place. “You’ll eat more before your fever. You’ll burn through it as your body prepares, but you probably won’t eat much at all once it hits.”
Great. “So as well as being a sex-crazed maniac, I’m going to starve for a week?”
Kitarni’s lips quirk up at the corners as she suddenly finds her saddle incredibly interesting. “I promise you’ll enjoy it.”
I’m beginning to doubt that very much.
“There is another matter we need to speak about before I leave you,” Kitarni continues, checking behind her, as if to assure herself that the rest of my Guard, and my brother, are still a little way back.
She tugs a small, wrapped leather bundle out of her bag and holds it out over the space between horses. Only my arms are too short; so Drystan is forced to take it and then pass it to me.
I hear the clink of glass bottles before I can unwrap the buckle holding the wrap closed. Inside, tucked neatly away into little pockets, are four vials.
“What are these?” I ask, looking at the wax-stoppered tubes with a frown of concern. The liquid within is translucent, like water.
“Sleeping draughts,” Kitarni answers. “I already gave your Guard a contraceptive, as you asked me to, and they took them. The potions last for a month, just in case.”
My cheeks heat at the memory of our long talk on the matter before the coronation, but my choice remains the same. I may want children, but I won’t raise them in a world where Elatha still breathes. I’m glad my Guard agrees.
According to Kitarni, the craziness that is fae biology means that—although children are rare—there have been instances of females becoming pregnant in the days before and after their fever. So I’m glad she’s taken no chances.
“The sleeping draught is a different matter. I would advise talking to them all about who you want in your bed. It might be that you’d rather only have a few of your Guard service you, and the others sleep, though I wouldn’t recommend it. A first fever is usually demanding. The more partners you have, the easier it will be on all of you.”
Drystan’s hands clench a little tighter on the reins, but he says nothing. He must’ve been forewarned about this.
“And if they don’t want me, they could take the sleeping potion and just… not be affected by it all?”
With the majority of my Guard behind me, I can’t see their reactions. Drystan professed to not hate me but has yet to demonstrate an ounce of desire. Even if he did, unless I learn to shield, he’d spend the entire time with his eyes closed. Though in my current mood, I may never learn, just to spite him.
