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“You are the High Queen and King of Annwyn. Nothing in your lives is private anymore,” Gwen said sharply, her hands gracefully folded over the golden scrollwork of her name engraved on the table. She was dressed in her Goldstones uniform, but the slightly feral gleam in her golden eyes made it impossible to mistake her for anything other than what she was—a powerful terrestrial shifter.
“Especially if you intend to invite people to watch.” Lyrena grinned and winked roguishly.
I looked to Arran. My partner, my friend, my lover… my mate.
He was scowling again.
Great.
I threw myself down in my chair, pretending I wasn’t attuned to every movement Arran made as he took his own seat beside me.
“Merlin and the Dowager wanted to make a play for power. That’s sorted for now.” I leaned back in the chair, crossing my arms across my chest. “What’s next?”
More silently exchanged glances. This time it was Cyara who broke the tension.
She withdrew a missive from the folds of her gown—where did she hide the pockets?—and held it up for the group to see.
“Word arrived from Evander this afternoon,” she said. Everyone at the Round Table sat up straighter, myself included. “Nothing in his letter leads us to suspect that Agravayn or the others had anything to do with Veyka’s disappearance—”
“The only one who had anything to do with my disappearance was me,” I cut in. They’d discussed this, I realized from the series of looks on their faces. Lyrena—anywhere but me. Gwen—staring me down and waiting expectantly for an explanation. Parys—grim but determined, set on whatever point he’d previously argued.
I didn’t dare look to Arran.
“What does Evander have to say about the missing children?”
Cyara’s wings fluttered, but her voice was steady. “They found a child wandering near the shore of the Split Sea, confused and cold, but otherwise unharmed. It seems the abduction was thwarted, though they are still parsing the details. It mentions that the weather is unusual for this time of year, he suspects a connection but has not deduced that either.”
It was painfully little progress after more than a month.
“Does he ask for any assistance or aide?” Arran asked.
I looked his way before I could remind myself that I wasn’t supposed to do that. I was trying to hold myself separate, to keep the emotional attachment I felt to him at bay until I could determine how the mating bond changed and complicated things. And I remembered why—the way he saw into me, understood me, when no one else did. The concern in his dark eyes, the way they flicked to me, knowing how the children’s abductions had unhinged me months before…
I don’t deserve to be his mate.
Ancestors be damned. Another fucking thought that was going to make me lose what was left of my mind.
“He does not,” Cyara said.
“We’ll send it anyway. One of the airborne shifters, so we don’t waste any more time.” The softness in Arran’s face shifted to the commander’s mask, calm and brutally efficient.
Thank the Ancestors.
“What’s next?” I asked before the uneasy silence could descend again.
I didn’t expect Lyrena to be the one to speak.
“Several of the palace guards have complained lately,” she began, shoulders loose and casual. As if she was sipping a pint of ambrosia in a pub in Baylaur, rather than discussing the running of the fae realm. “About disputes and brawls between the elemental and terrestrial factions.”
“Why are they bringing their concerns to you?” I tilted my head to the side.
If it had been anyone else, they would have taken offense. But Lyrena just slashed me a smile. “Because I drink with them.”
Gwen rolled her eyes. “Of course, you do.”
I felt Arran freeze beside me. I understood the reaction. I’d never seen Gwen do something so… well, common. She was always so damn regal and composed.
But as quickly as it came, the casualness disappeared. Her dark brows knitted together and her tan lips pouted out as seriousness stole her countenance. “You are a Knight of the Round Table. They ought to address you as such.”
