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Out the corner of my eye, I notice that Ember makes herself small, bowing her little heart-shaped face and she slides off the windowsill. She slinks away.
Daein stands before me, his diamond eyes darkened by the weight of the evening. And that only confirms my suspicions that what Ember told me was to be the truth.
He’s in a mood.
Clenched jaw; lashes low, tired; his top buttons undone, revealing the inky lines of his black markings; a lost coat somewhere in the ballroom; and his once-combed black hair now tousled, strands falling over his forehead, the tips brushing his furrowed eyebrows.
“The carriage has come.”
That’s all he tells me before he stalks off into the dwindling crowd to fetch our daughter. Yes. He’s in quite the mood. And so very often, when he is, he is still kind with me.
So I know something terrible has happened. Terrible for him and his people.
Maybe not so terrible for me and mine.
3
APRIL
As the carriage rocks and rolls with the tilts in the pathway to Princess Skye’s palace—that glows as though it was built from essence of pale sunshine, still a beacon in the dark—I realise that it’s not like I get any benefit out of the light returning or threatening the dokkalves’ power over darkness.
Should the light somehow magickally return to these lands, I’ll be whisked off to the dark lands for the rest of my life. And since I’m born of litalves, and living in the fae realms, I expect my life to be very, very long. The oldest litalf I know of is the Old Queen’s husband—over a thousand years old.
If I’m honest, that sounds like a curse.
I spent so much of my life counting days, expecting death to come around the corner and claim me from my sickness, and now … Now, I still struggle to understand what I truly am, how long I might live. Immortality, in a sense.
Maybe Elden will get lucky and knock me off before I can see one hundred years. He would love that.
I only want to live long enough to see my daughter happy—and find her love for me.
Even now, in the swaying carriage, Ensley doesn’t so much as look my way.
She sits opposite Daein and I (my husband, whose hand is firm on my exposed thigh, the split of my dress fallen to the sides), but she might as well not be with us at all. Her elbow is perched on the ledge of the curtained window, the heel of her palm supporting her pointy chin, and she just stares at the silky drapes. Just stares…
Probably thinking about Affay.
The frost emanating from her is chilling me. My skin prickles from the cold.
Daein notices—his grip softens and he starts to slowly rub my leg, sliding a considering glance my way. His normally crystalline eyes still carry the darkness from earlier, shadows and storm clouds gathering to mirror the turbulent thoughts in his mind. But he watches me with the smallest hint of kindness to be found in the slant of his disappointed mouth, a sliver of concern in the faint creases between his naturally arched eyebrows. He worries for me. Always worries for me.
I turn my attention back to Ensley. She shifts with a heavy sigh, so unlike her, and slumps back in the seat. Petulance drapes over her like a weighty blanket, sagging her shoulders and pushing her face into a creased pout—that she aims right at me.
My mouth flattens into a thin line for a beat.
I take the bait. I always do. Always want to—no,needto—reach out to her, comfort her, reassure her. I’m so desperate for her to love me like I love her.
“Did you have a fun night?” I probe gently.
Daein’s hand on my thigh goes still.
In answer, Ensley narrows her eyes at me then turns her cheek. Staring at the curtains again. Her mind must be on Affay, I think. They danced many times this night, but he left before we did, and it’s uncertain if she’ll see him again before we leave for the dark lands. She could be facing months separating them.
I try again, answering my thoughts to her, “If you like, I can visit Callie before we leave. You might see Affay there.”
Callie, Rain’s wife and Affay’s mother, is not a human I’ve necessarily bonded with. She’s very guarded, carries sadness in her too, the way most stolen women in this realm do. But there’s something blocking us from connecting.
Still, I could suffer a tea for an hour if it means Ensley gets the chance at seeing her crush before we head back to the dark lands. And since Daein says nothing to object, I think it might work—
