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“So not your brother and his mate?”

“Definitely not. Those two are part of Quill’s kindred. I was hoping they’d⁠—”

A shimmering, cloudy burst of black manifests a few steps away from us, turning Achlys into a barking mess. The two vampires down the beach glance over at us as a petite female steps out of the myst. Her long, deep blue gown with cap sleeves is a perfect match to any night sky. She’s pretty, almost doll-like in her features, with wide, honey-colored eyes and dark hair that falls in perfect waves around her delicate face.

Though I’ve never met this female before, there’s something… familiar about her that calls out to me. Deep in my chest, there’s a link between us that burns with life in defiance of Death.

Her honeyed gaze brightens the moment she lays them on the king at my side, and the ridiculous urge to take Riven’s hand surges through me.

I ignore it.

“Riven,” she says, smiling. The tone she uses when saying his name is friendly, almost fond. I peek at him to see his reaction. His face is carefully blank. A mask mastered at court, the one he wore when he told me I wasn’t pretty enough to tempt him. I recognize that mask as one similar to the one I wore every day when I was enslaved by my coven. It’s the face of someone who is terribly good at hiding their true feelings. “Your brother didn’t believe me when I told him you were going to show up uninvited.”

“Of course I believed you, tiny monster,” a deep, smooth voice—distinctively male—croons as he appears through similar myst. “I just didn’t believe he’d show up here uninvited with a witch in tow.”

Riven’s shoulders tense. “I’m here with a request, Quill.”

“I know.”

The first things I notice about Quill Godrickson are superficial: he’s roughly Riven’s height, just as broad, and strikingly handsome. But beyond that, his love for the female at his side is unmistakable, visible in the way his blue eyes dance whenever they pass over her.

“Wonderful,” the fae king drawls. “Since I’m sure Rory filled you in, perhaps we can simply skip all that nonsense and get to the part where I bargain for bloodshade and leave.”

“Not a chance!” The female—Rory?—grins as she looks at me. “I’ve been dying to meet Gwyn.” She shakes her head and laughs faintly. “Well, not literally. Been there, done that. Twice.”

She winks at me.

Fear lances through me, and my eyes snap to Riven.

Did he tell them about me?

“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Riven growls.

“Easy, brother.” Quill chuckles as he wraps his arm around Rory’s waist. She melts into him, and he presses a chaste kiss to her temple. “Did you really think Carver wouldn’t tell me? I’m his supreme. Not even Avaline could forbid him from doing so.”

My lips part slightly. “Is Ava here⁠—”

“She isn’t,” says Rory. “I sent a letter telling her you’d be stopping by for a visit, but Tallis won’t let her leave Velhara.”

Something sour twists in my gut.

Is Tallis punishing her for sneaking away? Did my freedom cost her hers?

“So I suppose you’ll just have to settle for me,” she says, folding her hands flat against her chest and holding them there. “I’m Rory, by the way.”

“I’m Gwyn,” I say. “I apologize for our intrusion.”

“It’s not an intrusion if I saw you coming, now, is it?”

I hold her gaze, intrigued by what she’s just said.

“I have so much I want to talk to you about.” She gestures to the castle. “I’d love to invite you inside, but first…” Her gaze flicks to where Achlys waits patiently by my side. “Is your dog good with cats?”

After reassuring Rory that Achlys wouldn’t torment her cat—Florin—we begin the trek toward their home. The couple on the beach says nothing as we pass, though the mountain of a male offers a polite wave and a small smile.

Unlike the rude king at my side, I return both.

Riven mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like “Too damn trusting,” and steps a little closer to me—close enough that the back of his hand brushes mine with every stride.