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“Go to the tables and fetch a glass of wine,” Aspen prodded before I could tell her about my idea of building an immunity against the forget-me-nots.
I blinked. “What?”
“You have fae blood running through your veins, Ren. A little wine won’t harm you, but itwillremind these arrogant members of court just who you are. You are no mere mortal. You’re our rightful queen, and you alone bear powerful Silverfrost magic.”
My scalp tingled at the thought. It was a bold move, but it was smart. A little wine shouldn’t affect me like it wouldother humans—a lot would likely be an issue. Straightening my spine, I skirted the dance floor as I made my way toward the tables, eyeing the rows of glasses full of glistening liquid. As I seized the stem of the nearest wineglass, I turned to face the room. With most of the fae either dancing or sitting with their drinks already, I drew many eyes. Even beneath the steady rhythm of the lively tune the musicians had taken up, a steady murmur rippled through the courtiers. Men and women turned and whispered to one another. Eyes filled with curiosity or glee, eager to watch me make a fool of myself.
“Smile,” Aspen urged, lifting her own glass toward her lips as if we were toasting.
Forcing my lips to curl, I matched her gesture and then took a long pull of the wine. It tasted of honey, sweet and light on my tongue, and it filled my chest with a burst of warmth as I swallowed it down. “Delicious,” I told Aspen.
“I told you,” she said proudly. “If it was going to affect you like other humans, it would taste rotten and wrong, but you would be compelled to keep drinking anyway. It would make anyone, with or without glamour, easily able to constrain you to do whatever they wanted. Even harm yourself.”
I repressed a shudder.
“But they can see you’re enjoying the wine, not grimacing. It’s a silent but significant reminder.”
“Speaking of,” I said, glancing about to ensure none of the dancing couples were too close to us, “Garrick said you had a plan?”
“Working on one,” Aspen murmured, “but these shows of yours when you’re before the court are all integral to it. We want to gather allies.”
I nodded my assent. “I have an idea to regain my magic.”
“You can’t starve yourself,” Aspen said.
“No, but what if I exposed myself to more forget-me-nots? What if, just as some learn to build an immunity to poisons through exposure, I let my body grow accustomed to their influence? Do you think that’s possible?”
Aspen swirled the remaining wine in her glass, contemplating. “Considering you’ve already drawn on your magic in times of need despite the forget-me-nots you’ve been steadily fed since your arrival? I’d say it’s entirely possible. I just hope we have enough time, with the winter solstice being so near. But I think, if anyone can, it would be you. Winter will begin in earnest, and you’re on Silverfrost land with the strongest magical bloodline our kingdom has ever had. And the power you’ve already displayed? It’s significant. Perhaps more powerful than many of the full-blooded fae in your ancestry possessed.”
I drew a deep breath, letting her words wash over me, dousing me in renewed hope.
Before either of us could say more, I noticed Preston approaching out of the corner of my eye. He circled the dance floor, but his eyes were locked on me. My stomach turned, and I wasn’t sure even the cheering effects of the wine could help me pretend to be anything but revolted.
On my shoulder, Aspen went silent, but I could feel the stiff way she sat.
On the far side of the ballroom, the doors creaked open and one of the guards hurried forward, her violet eyes wide with discomfort as she bowed to her king and queen. Silence descended as everyone turned to see why a guard had barged in during the festivities. “Your Majesties, I’m so sorry to interrupt—”
“Are you?” Queen Nerissa cut in, lifting a brow as she strode forward to meet the guard near the entrance. “Because it seems you’re not that sorry if you chose to interrupt anyway.”
At my side, Preston sneered, refusing to even move or acknowledge the woman. Instead, he looked impatient.
“There’s a-a...well, a messenger from the warfront,” the woman stammered.
Nerissa waved her hand. “My brother is occupied. Lead me to this messenger.”
Bowing in acknowledgement, the guard guided Nerissa from the ballroom, and the music resumed.
“Come,” Preston said, turning to me without preamble. “It is tradition for a newly betrothed couple to dance at their own celebration.”
“Are you not concerned about the state of the war?”
“My sister is capable of handling those concerns. Today, my concern is our arrangement.” His eyes bored into me.
“Of course.” I set my glass down on the table, trying not to grit my teeth or flinch back from him. It wouldn’t help my image before the court, where I needed to look strong and capable, if I cowered away from the man I needed to overthrow.
Preston’s gaze flicked to Aspen. “Couldn’t you shape shift and leave us?” he asked irritably.
Silently, Aspen hopped down, standing as tall as me before her slippers even hit the floor. The effect was dizzying, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever grow used to it. She dipped into a swift curtsey, clutching her glass as she swept away.
