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“Mistress Rue is my wife’s guest,” Lord Greyson volunteered before I had to scramble for a reply that didn’t expose the connection between Rue and myself.

I was proving to be a less than adequate defender.

“Mistress Rue.” Lord Stanton’s tone set my teeth on edge as the oily consistency of his magic thickened. He bowed deeply to her. “It is a great pleasure to meet someone so delightfully retiring in the midst of this bright array of flashy flirts.”

Nausea washed over me. Rue took a step back without releasing my hand. Turning the slight retreat into a smooth curtsey, she did what was required, but no more.

“From what part of the Wild Wood do you harken?” I asked, hoping to distract Lord Stanton from Rue.

“My lands are in the west, along the border.” Stanton’s gaze remained fixed on Rue as he smiled charmingly. “Where do you come from, fair creature?” His magic pressed against us both, thick and greasy.

“Where are the other claimants for the throne?” Lord Greyson asked as he scanned the crowd. Spotting his wife a short distance away, he made eye contact. Lady Lyra stepped toward us. But before she could get far, Greyson jerked his chin the slightest bit. Apparently, she understood the signal to stay away. Lady Lyra turned. Picking out the closest bodyguard—a large brutish male—she changed her direction and started toward him instead, as fast as socially acceptable.

“We traveled separately,” Stanton said as he turned to address Lord Greyson. Narrowing his eyes, he followed Greyson’s gaze with interest. Thankfully, Lady Lyra had already moved off into the crowd.

“They disappeared,” a heavyset faun declared, out of breath, as he hauled himself up the last of the stairs to join our small group. “It is a complete mystery, and I am vastly put out!” He straightened to a diminutive height of perhaps five and a half feet and let out a great whooshing gust of air. “You don’t need these stairs here, you know, Lord Greyson. They are an eyesore and inconvenient to boot.” Only then did he glance around at the rest of us.

“Lord Greyson—” He bowed to Greyson before nodding to both the other nobles. “Moritz, Stanton, and—I don’t know you.” The faun regarded me with a grimace, his close-set dark eyes squinting with the effort of identifying me. “Are you another of those heirs that have popped out of the woodwork?”

I nodded and offered him a bow.

He snorted dismissively. “Hopefully you and the other one are made of sterner stuff than the two cowards that disappeared on me. Seriously, Greyson, why? Why make me trek all over—connecting with them, packing them up, hauling them all that way just for them to give up and leave. It makes no sense.”

“They are cowards and ran off when they heard about the testing.” Stanton’s mouth hitched sideways in a smirk. “Power is never free. It all depends on how much you are willing to do to acquire it.”

Rue’s grip on my hand tightened painfully, but when I glanced at her, she didn’t lift her head in response. She had sensed something.

Tugging her closer, I nudged her behind me again as the boisterous faun bid us farewell and lumbered past us through the main entrance.

Rue’s movement caught Stanton’s eye, but before he could do more than turn around, Greyson spoke. “Ah, there is Nerio, our third candidate.”

Stanton swung around and immediately surveyed the crowd below us. Taking the opportunity provided by his distraction, Greyson motioned behind him toward a nearby bodyguard, a troll. Then with a sharp jerk of his head, ordered Rue to cross to the bodyguard.

I fought every instinct that screamed at me to keep her close—where I would be assured of her safety—and gently motioned her over to the hulking male. Her reluctance buffeted my senses over our connection, but I knew she would be safer far from the threat.

Turning back to find Stanton staring down Nerio as he approached, a giggling winged fae on his arm, relief flooded me. At least I knew Rue was safe.

“Lord Greyson.” Nerio bounced up the stairs with more enthusiasm than he had ever demonstrated in my presence before. He offered our host an elegant bow and then nodded to me. “Master Kent.”

Turning to his companion, he swung her around to face us with a smile. “This is my mate, Sicilia.”

Sicilia giggled and dropped Greyson an overdone curtsey with Nerio benevolently smiling over her like a proud child displaying a shiny toy. “Delighted to meet you,” she gushed. “Nerio says such wonderful things about how gracious you are to be hosting us all.” Grasping Nerio’s hand in both of hers, she draped herself against his arm with a charmingly guileless smile.

Whether she was simple, naive, or playing a part wasn’t clear. However, the predatory flash in Stanton’s eye made one thing clear: he was already hatching a plan on how to use the bubbly Sicilia to his advantage.

“I am pleased to meet you, Sicilia. I wasn’t aware that Nerio had a mate.” Greyson’s deep voice betrayed nothing for the surrounding fae to read. His lowered eyebrows betrayed the truth. He was less than pleased.

“They have known each other forever,” Lord Moritz rushed to explain. “It was only when they were apart that they realized the depth of their connection. Nerio moped incessantly. The only solution was to bring her here.”

“I struggled without her,” Nerio added right on cue, but something about his tone and delivery sounded off.

Greyson’s narrowed gaze didn’t stray from Lord Moritz. I suspected that Greyson’s extensive investigation into the false heir had uncovered nothing of the sort. The lack of support for Moritz’s story was more telling than the convenient timing of Nerio acquiring a mate shortly after the seriousness of Rue’s and my connection being discovered.

“Only time will show if being so attached will be an advantage or a disadvantage in the competition ahead,” Lord Stanton said smoothly.

Nerio shifted, eyeing Stanton with sudden concern. “Competition?”

“For the throne—” Stanton made a show of chagrin even I could see was false. “I am sorry. We haven’t been introduced. I am Lord Stanton, the remaining candidate for the Unseelie throne.”