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Maybe I didn’t deserve to be.
I was angry, and justifiably so, I’d decided. She’d lied, when she could have trusted me. I could have protected her better, if I’d known. I would have kept her secret, for the good of Annwyn.
But that was why she’d kept it a secret all along. For the good of Annwyn.
In a world in which power was everything—used to bend others to your will, to maim and punish… Weak powers could be hidden, stored up and expended in quick shows of force. Powerful magic caused as many problems as it solved; I knew that better than anyone. But to have no magic at all… it would mark her forever. It would cause ripples of shock throughout Annwyn, even into the human realm. It would make her a target, for the rest of her immortal life.
After everything that she’d been through, everything Annwyn had been through with the sudden loss of its king, she’d known that her secret could mean the end of peace. It could mean death and destruction. War.
She should have known I would keep her secret, for the good of Annwyn.
And maybe that was why she hadn’t told me. Because I wouldn’t keep the secret for her sake, but for the good of the kingdom. And that made me unworthy of knowing it at all.
But I couldn’t explain that to her. I could hardly reckon with it myself. At least, for now.
For now, we needed to avenge Arthur. Get through the Joining, and then we would have the next thousand years to sort through the rest.
After hours of discussion, we’d agreed on the three questions for the witch. We’d discussed the plan for taking the Tower of Myda, prepared with the scant information Parys had found about it in the library. Tomorrow night, under the cover of darkness, we would make our move.
Until then, we would go through the motions of court life as if nothing were amiss.
So, I stood at Veyka’s side as we waited in the same chamber she’d dragged me into after the Offering. Where we’d lingered before meeting the petitioners and the human who would die that horrific death, blackness eating him from the inside out.
Veyka didn’t bother with a smile as she accepted my arm to enter the throne room to join the feast welcoming the terrestrial delegation.
She was beautiful, mesmerizing as only she could be. She’d chosen a deep forest green that the elementals would roll their eyes at, and the terrestrials would take as a nod of respect. For once, most of her luscious body was covered, the only skin on display the square neckline and a sharp triangle cutout on each hip, just above the jeweled belt that held her scabbards and knives. But this garment was not one of the flowy, voluminous gowns she favored. There were no layers of fabric to sway with her curves.
Only a perfectly cut column on fabric so thin, I could see the shadow between her legs and the points of her breasts. It looked as if it had been sewn right onto her body. How else would Cyara and the others have gotten it on her? Magic, perhaps.
And damned well worth whatever cost was demanded in exchange, I decided. She was the vision of every wet dream I’d ever had. My cock strained in my tight leggings, demanding that I worship those curves.
She’d implied more than once how unfavorably her mother looked upon her fulsome body, how out-of-fashion her rounded, generous curves were. But this ensemble was meant to be a battle cry. Let anyone look upon her and dare to deem her less than magnificent. I’d cut them down myself.
A thin circlet of diamonds and amorite sparkled at her brow, a nod to the crown she’d wear in mere days.
I led her into the throne room and watched with satisfaction as every being in the cavernous, open-air space took a deep, collective inhale.
Every elemental sank into a bow. Even the terrestrials inclined their heads. If I’d had the gift of wind, I’d have sent a whipping gale to remind them to kneel. One look to Parys—and I watched the surprise flicker on the delegation’s faces. Then bend.
Veyka’s arm tightened on mine. She’d been terrified of this sort of reverence when Gwen had gifted her the round table. But when I glanced over, her face showed none of that fear.
The gentle tilt of her chin, inclining her head in acknowledgement, was as regal a movement as any I’d ever seen from Guinevere. Something like pride surged through me. After everything… a queen did indeed stand at my side.
Veyka’s chin returned to its usual station, and the throne room dissolved into discussion and dining once more, the moment over. I could feel lingering eyes upon us, but I didn’t seek them out just yet.
“Aural,” Veyka squeaked, already tugging me toward the fountain in the middle of the room.
I escorted her down the dais, around the tables that had been brought in for the feast, crowded with courtiers and guests. I dipped one goblet in the fountain, passed it to her, filled my own, and then let her guide me back toward the edge of the room.
I sipped the golden liquid, its flavor reminding me of how it had tasted on her tongue the night of Lugnasa. My eyes slid to hers, wondering if I’d see the memory stamped here as well.
But Veyka’s eyes were wide with shock, her mouth falling open.
Her eyes darted across the room, horror blooming on her face.
I watched in confusion as she marked Parys, seated on the other side of the aural fountain, facing the dais. Her eyes found Gawayn, positioned near a pillar a few yards away from us. Then Lyrena, at the rear of the dais watching the collection of royal councilors seated in a neat line.
I moved closer to her, every protective instinct in my body waking. “What is it?”
