“She’s the Princess of Bailoc. Have you lost your mind?” Fyn’s voice cracked.
I awoke to their muffled voices. The moon’s glow drifted in through the window.
“The divide let her cross. She’s part-fae,” Lioran said.
“She may be part-fae, but she is still very much part-human,” Fyn growled. “Even if he isn’t her father, he will still come for her. Bailoc isn’t going to let their princess cross into enemy territory and stay.”
“They can’t cross the divide to get her.”
“No, but there are those who may cross it for him,” Fyn warned.
I didn’t know of any who would. King Ardyn would never make a deal with the fae.
The fireplace cracked as the sound of shifting longs stirred.
“And when your father finds out? What will you do?” Fyn asked. “Your position won’t protect you both.”
Whatever his position was, he hadn’t disclosed it. Fyn mentioned it like it was important, but maybe it wasn’t significantenough. He introduced himself only as I had first introduced myself.
I waited in the quaint room, too nervous to come out and face them. My stomach had other plans—it resounded with a loud growl.
The floorboards creaked with each unsteady step. A navy, silk nightgown clung to my curves, more revealing than I was used to. Had someone changed me? I had no memory of it, but sincerely hoped it was Neena.
The cool metal doorknob twisted in my hand. I hoped it would creak and alert them before I stepped foot into the main room.
Lioran and Fyn sat up in their chairs as I slid my arm across the nightgown. Fyn lifted a woolen blanket from the chair and draped it over my shoulders. Lioran fixated on the fireplace.
I adjusted the rough fabric and slid into a seat next to the fire. The scent of herbs still wafted through the air.
Lioran ladled soup into the bowl. “It’s all I have to offer right now, but if you’re hungry, eat.” He handed me a small clay bowl.
I hesitated, clutching the bowl with shaking fingers.
“Eat, Aelira.” His melodic voice drew out my name—Ay-leer-uh. “You’ll need to regain your strength,” Lioran commanded.
“That’s not how you say my name.” I had never heard it said that way. “It’sUh-leer-uh,” I replied firmly.
“I said it how the fae do. If you insist, I say it the human way, I will,” Lioran responded.
I stared at him. My name had a place in their world—they knew how to say it in a way that made it beautiful.
“No.” I liked the way it sounded when he said it. “You knew the King of Bailoc is not my father.” I lifted the bowl to my lips,sipping the steaming broth. Warmth ran through me. My stomach whined, calling for more.
Lioran nodded as I sipped the soup again.
“Did you know there was a half-fae princess in Bailoc before you met me?” Fyn and Lioran exchanged a telling glance.
“Yes.” Lioran’s voice softened. His fingertips tapped an uneven rhythm on the arm of the chair.
“How did you know?” The broth splashed on my lips.
Lioran leaned forward in his chair. “The reason you’re part-fae has caused a great deal of animosity on both sides of the divide.”
“She doesn’t know.” Fyn’s eyes grew wide. The firelight glimmered off the golden streaks in his hair.
Sprigs of herbs floated on the hazy surface of my soup. “Why?”
“Your father…your true father is one of our people.” Lioran shifted in his chair. His voice was softer than before. “When King Ardyn found out, he was outraged.”
