Page 52 of Tale of the Heart Queen

“The dress. Once you see the dress, you’ll be as excited as I am.”

I really doubt that, but I keep my mouth shut.

She claps her hands, and two High Fae servants materialize. They’re both stunning in the way of Fae, with long blonde hair that falls nearly to their ankles. They wear loose white dresses that I recognize as the ceremonial garb reserved for Zerra’s disciples. They also wear the same vacant expression as all of Zerra’s helpers.

Between them, they hold a dress made of folds of sheer white fabric, the train so long the end disappears out the doorway.

“Isn’t it divine?” Zerra intones, and there’s a beat of silence before I realize she’s speaking to me. “Isn’t it?” she asks again, her lips thinning to bloodless white.

I shrug because I have no idea how to answer the question—it means nothing to me—and I’m sure it’ll annoy her if I fail to demonstrate sufficient enthusiasm.

“It’s a dress,” I say dryly, like the complete asshole I am.

Then I take a long sip of my wine, staring into the cup, before draining the entire thing and reaching for the decanter on the table. At this point, I’ll have to drink this entire place dry.

“Yes but isn’t it special?” she needles. “It’s the dress of my dreams. I never got to have a wedding, you know. I was dragged up to this godforsaken place and forced to live here.”

“Forced by whom?” I ask. I’ve never heard anything to suggest her words are true.

“The Empyrium,” she says with a petulant sigh.

“Who?”

She turns her eyes back on me and obviously doesn’t want to bother explaining anything else. She just wants me to shut up and do what she asks.

“They’re the supreme beings who oversee Ouranos and all the worlds around us.” She waves a hand as though they’re there hanging above her. My eyes flick up as though I’m really expecting someone to be there. Get a grip, Nadir.

“I thought you oversaw Ouranos,” I say, causing irritation to flash in her gaze. This is clearly a sore spot. Then I remember what Nerissa said back in Aphelion about some higher authority having created the Artefacts. The Empyrium. Who are they, and what is their role?

“Not exactly,” she answers in a way that tells me she’s done with my questions.

Fine, I don’t care unless it might get me out of here. I tuck this into my pocket for now—I’ll revisit the topic when the time is right.

“Where is Lor now?” I ask. “Can you see her? Do you know?”

It’s the wrong thing to say because her fingernails dig into the wood of her chair arms, causing the entire frame to creak under her weight.

“Why are you asking me about that horrible woman?” she snaps. “She killed you!”

“Do not speak of my mate that way,” I say, my voice as cold as an icicle hanging precariously over our heads.

“Why are you defending her?” Zerra asks, incredulous.

She cups her hands around her mouth to amplify her voice and then says in slow, deliberate speech, “She. Killed. You.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ll allow you to speak ill of her. I’m sure she had her reasons.”

“Are you kidding me?” Zerra says, and now I’m kind of enjoying myself.

“Forget her,” she says. “You are marrying me now.”

“I don’t think I can do that. Surely you know what a mate bond is. You’re the one who blessed us, after all.”

She scoffs at that. “I didn’t do anything.”

That brings me up short again.

“You didn’t? But mate bonds are blessed by Zerra.”