A fox mask rests in her hand, and she occasionally lifts it to her face. As if she has no need to hide or declare her face. She justis.
She is breathtaking. Not in the gentle, approachable way of court beauties. In the way lightning is beautiful.Mesmerizing. Distracting. Dangerous.The kind of alluring beauty that makes people step closer even after realizing it might kill them.
Her gaze drifts slowly over Elyssara’s rust silk gown, the exposed Lightborne mark, the copper mask.
Then the corner of her mouth lifts. Not a smile. Recognition, perhaps. Or something more sinister, she’s not sure.
Elyssara snaps her gaze to Kael, who goes very still beside her. His eyes are fixed on the woman, and his breathing shallows.
“That’s Marin,” he murmurs.
A sharp pang of jealousy sparks through Elyssara’s chest unbidden.Of course she’s beautiful. Of course Maireth’s daughter would look like temptation wrapped in silk.“And who exactly is Marin to you?”
Kael smirks at that, unable to hide his amusement. “We’re about to face the most ruthless monarch in the Known Realms, andthat’swhat you’re worried about?”
His mouth twitches. “There are about seventeen different ways we could die tonight, and you’re worried that Maireth’s daughter is attractive?”
Elyssara’s eyes only narrow further. “Well?” she snaps severely.
Kael chuckles. “The last time I saw her, I was a child. She’s nothing to me. Only a reminder of what we’re facing. Though I wouldn’t stop you if you wanted to hurt her.” He shrugs indifferently.
Elyssara huffs a laugh at that. “Well, that’s lucky for her then. But if her eyes linger a beat too long, I might take you up on the wholehurting herthing.”
Kael chuckles darkly. “Has anyone ever told you to work on your possessiveness, El?”
A gasp slips from her mouth, followed by a laugh. “Oh gods,” she murmurs. “I’ve turned into you.”
“Don’t say that, El. Because the truth is… you’re muchmuchworse.”
She punches him playfully in the shoulder.
“Gods,” she mutters under her breath, shaking her head.
She can see what he’s doing—joking with her, keeping her relaxed, disarmed.
It’s working, but she doesn’t miss the way he performs, becomes who she needs him to be. Who he needs to show the world.
She relaxes her shoulders, allowing a smile to grace her lips, but the rigidity isn’t completely gone from her body.
Elyssara’s eyes turn back to Marin. She’s still staring. Eyes fixed on Elyssara.
“Don’t react,” Kael murmurs.
Elyssara’s stomach tightens.
Because the woman is not alone.
Standing beside her is another figure—older, stiller, wrapped in dark silk that falls like liquid shadow beneath a draped silver scarf. But it’s not just her gown or her scarf that Elyssara notices—it is the mask that adorns her face.A mask in the shape of a godsdamned wolf.
Maireth.
Silver threads streak through her dark hair, though not a strand sits out of place beneath the intricate pins securing it high above the elegant line of her neck. Time has not softened her beauty. It has sharpened it into severe regality.
Fine lines crease the corners of her eyes and mouth, but they do not age her into softness—they carve her into authority. Into the kind of woman kingdoms learn to fear.
The air of superiority surrounding her makes her identity undeniable.
Poised, unflinching, unmoving.
