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Lord Greyson relaxed his fist and opened his hand palm upward to interlace his fingers with those of his wife. “My apologies, darling. I am getting carried away.” As he lifted her hand to brush the back of it to his lips, the writhing shadows retreated and stilled. “Lord Moritz, I recommend you refrain from speaking of events you have no firsthand knowledge of. Doing so could get you into some significant trouble, no matter who you have in your pocket.”

“Let us speak of more pleasant things and leave these topics for the privacy of more intimate surroundings,” Lady Lyra said. “Please eat.”

The guests, for the most part, complied, and the awkward silence broke into quiet conversations.

Only when the tension began to ease did I realize I was still clutching Kent’s hand with cramping fingers. “Sorry,” I whispered as I released my fingers and attempted to disentangle our hands.

Kent appeared less inclined to release his grip. Lost in thought, he hung on, staring into space. Meanwhile, I grew aware of the growing discomfort of my forearm—the muscles were burning strangely.

“You are hurting me.” I tugged gently, and finally Kent released my fingers without really acknowledging my words or anything else for that matter. “What is wrong?” I asked as I flexed my stinging hand out of sight under the edge of the table.

“I am realizing the complexity of the legacy I will be taking up if I accept the role of heir.”

“What do you mean, if you accept?”

Kent glanced past me at Nerio, the young man leaning over his meal and eating quietly. “Now that an alternative heir has been discovered, I am not certain I want to pursue a claim to the throne.”

Only then did it dawn on me that Nerio was the other supposed heir.

Without glancing away from his food, Nerio grimaced. “That is assuming I want the crown, Master Kent. Contrary to recent accusations, I am in no one’s pocket, and my current associations are growing less and less appealing by the hour.” Cutting his meat with a bit more force than necessary, Nerio shot a glare in the faun’s direction.

Suddenly curious, I turned to him. “How then did you get mixed up with him?”

Nerio grimaced slightly. “I didn’t. My mother did. He wove her a tale about my sire being the Unseelie king, and she has been pushing me to go along with their scheme ever since.”

“Do you believe you are a son of our king?”

He shrugged. “I could be. My siblings are all children of my mother’s late husband. I, however, am a product of a fleeting indiscretion with a fae passing through our village. Mother didn’t even know his name. I am a High Fae, so my father must have been one also, since my mother is a nymph and her husband was the same.”

He moved food around his plate with an impassive expression. “When Mother found she was with child, she married the first man she could. I was born seven months later.”

Despite his guarded manner, I could feel the shame and latent anger triggered by the retelling. I reached out and rested a hand on his arm, offering a small measure of comfort.

On my other side, Kent tensed and a frisson of raw anger flared and then snuffed out like a blown flame. The change passed through me so swiftly I couldn’t identify the cause, only the source.

Choosing to focus on Nerio, I remained as I was. “It sounds like a hard beginning. Did her husband accept you?”

A mixed wave of affection and grief welled up in him. “He did. He considered me his in every way. I didn’t learn the truth until after he passed away. My siblings and I were still very young.”

I withdrew my hand. Only then did he look up and meet my gaze. “How did you end up here?” he asked. “At first I thought you were a companion for Lady Lyra, but clearly you are something more to Master Kent. So, what is the exact nature of your relationship with my competition?”

“We are friends.” Even as I said the words, my conscience pricked. Was that truly an accurate description?

“Close friends,” Kent added as he reached over and laid claim to my hand again. At least this time, it was gloved again, muting the intensity of the connection as it zinged between us. My forearm began burning, resuming at the same intensity as though there had been no break in contact.

“We worked together before Lord Greyson sought him out,” I added.

“Oh?” Intense interest lit Nerio’s eyes. “In what capacity? No, don’t tell me. Let me guess.” He leaned forward and peered from Kent to me to Kent again. “Where in the Wild Wood are you from?”

Pressing my lips together, I shook my head.

“No clues?” Nerio asked.

“Neither of us are from within the realm.” Kent took a bite of meat in an act of feigned indifference, but I could feel his mild interest tickling the edges of my senses. “Where about do you come from?”

“I grew up in Pishla near the northwest border.” Nerio quoted the sentence with all the inflection of a bored child reciting his lessons.

“What kind of place was it?” I asked.