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Ash glanced at me again out of the corner of his eye. “Yes.”

“So he doesn’t like men?”

Ash cleared his throat. “No.”

Rae recoiled, confusion twisting her features. “What? I thought… Wait. What?”

I didn’t understand why the denial confused her, but the way my stomach twisted at Ash’s acknowledgment that Cyn didn’t like men kept me from commenting. I suspected it, but hearing it out loud squashed the “what if” holding a small flame in my heart.

“He doesn’t even like the women he sleeps with.”

“Oooh. I see now.”

“Well, I don’t.” I tossed my half-eaten cookie into the container. “It doesn’t matter even if he did. It can’t happen. Ever.”

“Don’t say that.” Rae put her hand on my arm. “If he does, there’s no reason you couldn’t talk to him about how you feel. Y’all are close. He wouldn’t be mean about it.”

I pulled away from her and grabbed the cookie again, breaking pieces off into the container. Was I sulking? Yeah. Probably. I didn’t care. She didn’t get it, but I couldn’t be mad at her. She wasn’t used to our world.

Ash placed his hand on her knee over the cover. “You’d think that. And while he could talk about his feelings with Cyn…” He glanced at me, eyes softening. “The council won’t allow them to be together.”

“What? Why? Are they homophobic or something?”

“No,” Ash said, shaking his head. “Nothing like that. Shyrlivi don’t regard gender and sexuality in the same way humans do. We’re not bound by rules, traditions, or expectations. It is what it is. Nothing more or less.”

“Oh, well, that’s good then.”

“But as royalty, we’re expected to get married or mate and produce heirs to continue our bloodlines. Both Zeke and Cyn are only children, so there’s no one else to do it for the Alakai and Brakeal families.”

I dropped the last bit of cookie and sighed. “And there’s no guarantee Mom or Dad will have another kid even if they have a few hundred years to do it, and Cyn’s parents can’t anymore.”

“I remember hearing something about centuries,” Rae said. “So how old can y’all get?”

I reached for my water bottle. “Most Shyrlivi live for around four or five centuries, but the royal bloodlines can live up to double that because of the magic in our blood.”

“Then they can have another baby and them be old enough by the time they retire, right?”

Ash shook his head. “Typically, the council retires when its children are ready to take over. Older generations served on the council for centuries before passing the throne on to their children or grandchildren. Every generation handles it differently.”

“This council’s term will be the shortest in centuries,” I added.

“When Cornaith deems Ezra ready to succeed, Cyn and Zeke’s parents will pass on their seats, and I will claim my parents’ throne,” Ash said. “The entire council steps down together.”

“So why not wait longer?”

I understood why Rae didn’t get how the Elyrdin council worked. In fact, I wanted my family to wait. It made sense when I didn’t want to rule over anything. I didn’t even know if I could raise a child—not with my own issues.

“Cornaith would continue to rule if he could.” Ash’s jaw tightened before he schooled his features. “But he understands that the people of Elyrdin wouldn’t accept him denying Ezra’s succession when he’s such a powerful and beloved prince. Our people would interpret it as a denial of prosperity.”

Rae sat back, considering Ash’s words. After a moment, she asked, “So you don’t get a choice in who you’re with?”

Ash shrugged. “Not if it hinders the betterment of our people.”

She looked from Ash to me. “That’s not fair. What about what you want?”

“Any good leader puts their people’s needs before their own desires,” Ash said, a hint of bitterness in his words.

I didn’t fault him for his bitterness either.