Our boat bumps against the steps to the palace, jolting me out of my thoughts. Bree leaps out of the boat with his typical feline grace and holds a hand out to help me up, which I accept.
Wraith lets me up long enough to clamber onto the gleaming steps himself, then plasters himself to my left side and stays there as guards in golden armour bow before escorting us into the palace proper. Instead of conventional hallways, the spring palace has small waterways connecting the rooms, and I have to work to suppress a gasp as a high fae male floats past, standing on a silver lily pad which acts like a one-person raft. Trees and water plants are everywhere, and the drooping branches of willows form privacy curtains between rooms.
It seems like every time I think I’m getting used to the fae way of building in harmony with nature, something new comes along and I’m awed all over again. Unfortunately, the throne room doesn’t require us to use one of the enchanted pads. Perhaps that’s a good thing, given I’m not certain I have the balance required to stay upright on one.
“Whatever you do,” Bree murmurs, as trumpets blare and the great doors open. “Don’t say anything about the axe.”
I want to ask what he means, but he falls back before I can say anything, leaving me to lead the way into the court of a queen who stands on the brink of dropping our realm into a catastrophic civil war.
My boots click against the mosaic tiling of the floor, the vine pattern shifting, then exploding into bloom whenever I step on it.
Stop looking at your feet,I instruct myself, squaring my shoulders as I ignore the stares of her gathered court and look straight ahead at the female on the throne in front of us. Remembering Kitarni’s advice, I try to quiet the voice inside my head that tells me they’re all staring and focus on my connection to Danu.
It’s harder to find her with panic icing my chest. When I do, her seething displeasure hits me like a smack to the face. She’s not even focused on Aiyana, or the judgement of the court—those things are beneath her—all Danu cares about is that these fae have the nerve to lock up one of my Guards and attempt to defy her.
The Goddess ispissed. That anger lends power to my steps, and resoluteness to the set of my shoulders as I stride across the room, the pale fabric of my skirts fluttering in my wake.
The ancient cherry blossom throne is a pale imitation of the hawthorn one in the Palace of Elfhame. Its floral branches have been contorted into heavy pink clouds that form a dramatic backdrop for the queen of spring. Embedded into the trunk above the carved seat—so deep that it’s clear the tree has been growing around it for some time—is a rusted greataxe. The weapon’s presence sends a warning shiver down my spine, and I wonder how something so brutal came to be buried in a court so obsessed with beauty.
It distracts me so much that, for a second, I forget about the female sitting beneath it.
Aiyana is just as delicate and beautiful as everything else in the room, but her piercing gaze is shrewd as we evaluate one another. Someone has arranged her deep ruby locks into an immense updo that forms a nest for her impressive crown. In contrast, her gown is simple… and so sheer I can see the dark shadows of her nipples peeking through.
She’s also got her legs spread. A female kneels between them, casually eating her exposed pussy.
The boldness alone is enough to make me hesitate a half step, losing my rhythm. It’s not much—barely noticeable—but she catches it, and her lips quirk.
Trying to pretend that I didn’t just give her the upper hand is difficult, but I make it work as I come to a stop before the dais.
If she actually intended to offer me her allegiance, now would be the part where she would stand, and offer me her throne.
The murmurs start when she throws her head back and comes loudly on her partner’s tongue instead.
Fae may be free and open about pleasure, but there’s no doubt in my mind that this is a deliberate insult. A big one.
So, just as deliberately, I cross my arms and fix her with my best ‘are you finished?’ look.
I’m pretty sure the fae nearest me take a step back, looking nervously at their queen, who’s still enjoying the last aftershocks of her orgasm.
When those long lashes part, her eyes widen fractionally with surprise. Her lips part, but I beat her to it.
“If you’re quite done?”
Lore’s snigger—and the resultingoofas one of my other Guards elbows him for it—are loud in the otherwise silent hall. Aiyana takes a second to collect herself, then offers me a carefully curated smile.
“Nicnevin Rhoswyn, it’s a pleasure to welcome you to my court. I hope you enjoyed our hospitality during your fever.”
The words are sweet, her tone elegant and practised, but she’s still sitting on that throne. This is just her flexing her power. Posturing.
Beneath us, somewhere in her dungeon, a member of my Guard is being tortured. My hands curl into fists as Danu grumbles in my veins.
“And you’ve brought your…unconventionalGuard.” Her eyes linger on Jaro behind me. “And a pet.” Her lips curl downwards in distaste at the sight of Wraith.
“And I see you’re in my spot.” I offer her a weary smile. “Shall we get this over with?”
Aiyana pats the face of the female now resting her face on her inner thigh, dismissing her. Without her body in the way, the spring queen is free to cross her legs and lean forward, resting her elbow on her knee and her chin on her knuckles as she regards me.
“You’re not even surprised, which means there are traitors in my midst.” Her tone quickly turns from polite to frosty.
