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“Anything?” he muses.

The glass shatters in my hand, bringing with it pricks of pain along my palm. Wine splatters across my skin and seat in plum-colored splotches.

“Get out,” I snarl.

Fuck him. Fuck his vote. I’ll convince Tallis. Convince her to support me in exchange for ratting out the usurper plotting behind her back. Carver would never forgive me for betraying Avaline, but he’d understand I did it to protect Rory from Riven and that I had no other choice.

“Love has made you rash, Quill.” He laughs callously. “Have you forgotten my rule? As delightful as fucking a little thing like Rory would be, I would never stoop that low. A creature who isn’t fae? In my bed? Preposterous.”

Every thought in my mind skitters to a stop. The sound of her name on his lips is wrong. I eye him warily, unsure what game he’s playing or whose side he’s truly on. It’s obvious now, by mentioning Rory’s name, that he knows far more about what happened the night of the rite, about Rory, than he’s letting on. I already knew his spies were incredibly thorough, but I hadn’t thought he’d go as far as having them look into Rory and my relationship with her.

Unease replaces the rage racing through me.

What if he’s simply here to rile me up? What if there’s nothing more to the book than Riven’s eagerness to put me in a dangerous situation and see how I’ll fare? A way to prove without saying it outright that maybe I’m not deserving of our father’s seat at the table?

I need to think this through.

“The book you’re after is likely long gone.” I sop up the wine on my hand and the seat with the hem of my shirt. “So many texts were destroyed in the great burning after the Crimson War.”

He traces a long, pale finger around the rim of his glass. “This particular book would’ve been spelled to resist burning.”

His answer gives me pause. I take in the shadows under his eyes, the rigidness of his posture. This is a male who is tired. But of what? Of being king or participating in political games that truly mean nothing to him? Or is there something darker going on in the Fae Isles that I don’t know about?

He doesn’t waver under my scrutiny. Instead, he shrugs as if my silence is answer enough and rises to his feet. Reaching into his pocket, he withdraws a calling card and flicks it at me. I make no move to catch it and watch as it hits the floor.

“Set that on fire once you have the book.” He gestures toward the paper. “I’ll arrive within an hour of its burning.”

He reaches for his blade and pricks his finger. My nostrils flare at the bitter scent. He allows a single drop of blood to splatter against the floor as he murmurs under his breath. An incandescent portal yawns into existence, bright and blinding.

“Riven, wait.” I hate how desperate I sound. “There must be something else you want.”

As he steps into the Fae Isles, his eyes flick to my forearm. “If you want a blade for your hilt, you’ll get me that fucking book.”

My kindred sprawl out on the beach, precisely where I left them, all wearing expressions that demand to know what happened.

“Well?” Carver snaps. “Did you secure his vote or not?”

I run a hand through my hair nervously. “Not yet.”

“Fucking fae bastard.” Risna crouches over a pail of murky water as she washes her brushes. Paint speckles her face. “What’s he asking you to do? Steal a fae lord’s firstborn? Burn down a cathedral full of innocents?”

Eivor scratches his scalp. “Black hell, Ris. Don’t give the male any ideas.”

“What did he ask of you?” asks Rory, rising to her feet. Her salt-tangled hair waves around her. “Is whatever it is doable?”

I lick my wine-stained lips. “Riven needs me to collect a book.”

“Sounds easy enough.” Some of that murky water sloshes onto Risna’s coveralls, and she glares down at the wet splotch on her chest. “Where’s this mystery book then?”

“Supposedly, it’s in Adelphi at the capital’s city library.”

Every single gaze snaps to me, and the combined weight of their stares is nearly suffocating.

Rory hurriedly gathers her knitting materials. “I’m going with you.”

“We,” Risna corrects sharply. “We are going with you, Quill. All four of us can help.”

“Absolutely not.” I fold my arms across my chest as if I’m donning my armor for battle. “Not only is it too dangerous, this is a test I need to complete on my own.”