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I knew my mate. I knew she was a second away from drawing her blades and slaughtering everyone in that hall.
The voices were closer now, the yelling.
Those nearer to us were voicing their opinions, the arguing shifting away from the dais down to the crowd.
A large man—large by human standards, at least—climbed up on a crate so he could talk over the others’ heads. “Our hunting parties have stopped coming back, or are too afraid to go out at all. If one man is lost to the madness, the whole party is doomed. We cannot survive on vegetables indefinitely. We need meat.”
Murmurs. Then a derisive scoff—the man turned and looked right at Veyka. “It does not seem to be a problem in the fae realm.”
My body moved faster than my thoughts.
Axe in hand, weight thrown forward.
The human pressed hard against the wall, blade against his throat. “Say another word, and you die.”
A hand on my shoulder. Soft but strong.
The brush of lips against my throat. “This is not the first time that someone has taken offense at my body. It will not be the last.”
Maybe it was a sign of weakness, that I bowed so easily to her will. Maybe the humans would see it and think I was chained to her, subordinate, that the High King of Annwyn was ruled by his queen.
I didn’t care. So long as she wasmine.
I dropped the man forcibly to the floor and then turned my back on him. Let the rest of the humans see that even the largest among them was nothing.
Every set of eyes, limpid human eyes, was fixed on Veyka. And me at her side, by default.
Her eyes had cleared, shifted from glassy to cold and hard. But the tension still held her body in its grip. I saw her then as the humans must—taller than the men, wider, muscles strong and visibly on display. As were her weapons. A warrior queen, who might exact vengeance at any second.
One hand on each hip, framing the daggers in their glinting, jeweled scabbards, she addressed them.
And not a single human dared to yell out or compete for the crowd’s attention.
“I do not care about you. I do not care about any of you, who pretend to be better than the rest of us. You are just as bloodthirsty as you charge the fae to be.” She jerked her head to the children, wide eyed on the floor. “I do this for them.”
“Go to Baylaur—send an entire delegation, if you like. Women only. I will write a letter of introduction myself. Annwyn will provide succor, as my brother promised.”
Silence.
Even the children had stopped their game.
Veyka rolled her eyes.
She reached up her arm, pulling loose the golden arm band around her bicep. She slid it down, giving it one irreverent twirl around her finger. A glance to the man on the floor, the one I’d put there, then up to the elders on the dais. She stepped forward and dropped the trinket into the laps of the two children.
“Take this as proof. They will know the message comes from me.”
I was enraged and proud and hard. My beautiful, brilliant mate. How had I ever thought her selfish?
Because she had been—she’d been different. She’d been scared and grieving and broken. Now… we were slowing healing. Knitting back together, both of us. Even if the world around us seemed determined to go to shit.
Which it did, two seconds later.
When the walls exploded and the roof caved in.
32
VEYKA
