Page 24 of Tale of the Heart Queen

“And where have you been all this time?” Bronte asks.

With a sigh borne of an exhaustion that has nothing to do with a lack of sleep, I run through the same abbreviated version of events I gave to Cyan. I’ve retold this story so many times now that I should have it tattooed on my forehead. I understand why everyone is curious, but is this all I’ll ever be?

When I’m finished speaking, everyone watches me in silence. I can’t tell what they’re thinking from their expressions. I look around, hoping for something to drink. When I spot a bar cart on the far side of the room covered in bottles filled with various colored liquors, I don’t bother asking. I stand up and pour myself something from a decanter of pale, bluish liquid. As I toss it back, it burns down my throat with a mixture of bitter and sweet.

“Help yourself,” Cyan says wryly, and I shoot him a glare.

“Manners would have suggested you offer us all a drink to begin with.”

“It’s barely noon,” he answers, and I snort before I pour myself another glass.

Like I give a shit.

“You reek of The Aurora,” D’Arcy says a moment later, staring at me as uneasiness burns over my scalp.

“What?” I manage to squeak out. Why is she smelling me?

“Your story, while a truly thrilling tale, appears to be missing a few key details. Tell me why you smell of the Aurora King.” She tips her head and offers me a sly look. “Or perhaps not its king, but rather one of his children? The prince? The princess?”

“As I already explained, I spent half my life there. Why shouldn’t I bear its taint?”

D’Arcy rises from her seat, all elegance and lithe movement, and strides towards me like she’s floating over the floor. She stops and sniffs, her nose burying into the curve of my throat in a move that is definitely crossing many personal boundaries.

“What the fuck?” I exclaim, jumping back. “Has no one ever taught you about consent?”

“She’s mated to someone,” D’Arcy says, facing the other two rulers. “The bond hasn’t been completed, but they’ve mated.”

“Excuse me,” I say, backing away and bumping into the bar cart before I slide left to put some distance between us. “That is none of your business.”

“Except it is,” D’Arcy says, closing in on me. “If you’re lying to us.”

“I don’t owe you anything.”

“That’s true,” Cyan says. “But you are here in my kingdom out of my goodwill. I have no desire to harbor liars under my roof.”

I press my mouth together. I have only three days left to find the ark, and I can’t get myself thrown out of here before I do.

“Fine,” I say. “When I left Aphelion, I didn’t escape on my own. The Aurora Prince took me.”

“Why?” Cyan asks.

“Because he was under his father’s orders to return me to Nostraza.”

Okay, that’s not the entire truth, but what’s another white lie on top of this snow-covered mountain I’m building?

“And then what?” Bronte asks. I remember Nadir saying something about Tor being somewhat allied to The Aurora. How friendly are they?

I clutch my glass between my hands with my back pressed to one of the shelves.

“And then we realized we had a connection.”

“Your mate is the Aurora Prince,” D’Arcy says, and something moves behind her eyes.

“Yes,” I whisper, emotion twisting in my chest. Is. Was.

“Where is he now?” Cyan asks.

“He’s dead.” A collective intake of breath swirls around the room.