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VEYKA
I considered dragging the lounge chairs far back on the balcony so that no one would be able to see us, so that we might have a few days of privacy after the events in the Tower of Myda.
But then I remembered that I was Queen of the Elemental Fae. I sent an order to have the apartments of every courtier whose balcony overlooked my own reassigned. There was a lot of grumbling. I did not care. Nor did I hear it, for I did not leave my rooms.
We did not leave my rooms.
I also sent an order to the Royal Council. It was not difficult to retake control of my kingdom from the council, considering a third of them were dead. I had a plan for that as well, though I supposed I ought to talk it over with Arran first.
But for those first few days, neither of us wanted to talk.
Arran stayed in his wolf form most of the time. Only at night, when Cyara disappeared for the evening and dinner had been cleared away, only then did he shift. Then he took me into his arms and dragged me to the bed.
When the first rays of dawn came, he’d shift again. I’d wake to find him laying at the foot of the bed, keeping guard, as always.
When our quiet reverie was finally broken, we were sitting on one of those lounge chairs, basking in the sun and silence.
Well, I was sitting. Arran was sprawled out across me, his head in my lap, my entire lower body covered by his heated form. I’d taken to burying my ever-cold hands in his fur for warmth. Pure white. The exact color of my hair.
“Doesn’t this paint quite the idyllic, peaceful picture of the next High Queen and King of Annwyn,” Parys said, smirking.
A low growl slipped from Arran’s jaws. I doubted he’d ever fully forgive Parys for having shared my bed in those empty days before the Offering.
I flicked his ear. Never mind that it was bigger than my hand.
But I leaned my head back against the cushioned seat and gave Parys a baleful look. “You come bearing neither food nor drink.”
“I come with news,” Parys said, his smirk faltering a bit.
I sighed heavily. “I feared as much.”
The reprieve was over. Reality must be faced. Annwyn had survived something brutal and treacherous—a threat from within. A violation of the treaties of peace our Ancestors had fought and died for. Arran and I could not hide forever.
I flexed my hands, cold again as soon as I withdrew them from Arran’s warm fur.
My secret… it was not a secret anymore. My companions all knew; impossible not to, after what had unfolded. But I trusted them to keep that precious, dangerous information close, at least for now.
Answers, the ones I’d so desperately searched for, vengeance… perhaps it was not wholly satisfied. Perhaps it never would be.
I felt Arran’s shift. And in the next breath, his hand closed around mine—a silent offer of strength.
What I hadn’t been able to say was that I felt stronger than ever before. All these days of silence, I’d come to terms with the guilt and grief that would never leave me. They had made me stronger.
So, though I did not want to hear what Parys had to say, I was at least ready for it.
“Tell us,” Arran ordered, the quiet strength of his voice an echo of my thoughts.
Picking up an orange from the table and tossing it in the air, Parys began with all casualness, “Tomorrow is the eve of Mabon.”
Arran’s eyes slid to me.
“Is it?” I said, matching Parys’ nonchalant tone.
“The priestesses seek to remind you that the day is symbolic and will not come to pass for another year,” Parys continued.
“Does that mean if we miss tomorrow we can put this off for a whole year? I suddenly feel a headache coming on—”
“Veyka,” Arran growled. Only he could say my name with that particular shade of exasperation.
