She smirked. “Research.” But her eyes fleeted down the hall, in the direction our friends waited. “We should go check…”
She took a step toward me, then pressed onto her toes. With her hands firmly against my chest, every inch of my body was aware of her.
Mila, Mila, Mila, my fucking heart seemed to beat.
That cinnamon scent wrapped around me as she brought her lips to my cheek. “Perhaps we can do some research tomorrow night?” she whispered, a promise and a question.
“Tomorrow,” I said.
I bent to kiss her, but we both froze when shouting echoed from the palace’s foyer.
Chapter Twelve
Tolek
“You certain about this?”I asked Ophelia when Ritalia, Brystin, and the other fae had all left.
Her stare was locked on the door our friends had disappeared through, and I knew she was worrying about Santorina. What all this Bounty business meant and how we could combat it or embrace it.
Finally, though, she met my gaze, letting a hint of her worry show through the flinch of her brow. “I’m certain about very little right now,” she admitted, and dammit did I want to kiss her and wipe away all those concerns, but she continued. “All I know is I need to feel like I’m doingsomething. Right now, I feel so out of control. If I can get some sort of command over this situation—secure us a kernel of truth to help figure out what’s going on—I’ll take it.”
Determination and the strength of the Angels burned through those words. Spirits, she was magnificent.
“Spoken as a true queen,” I said, kissing her hand.
She rolled her eyes. “Please, Tolek.”
“Say what you may, but the title does sound nice when used toward you.”
“The only queen we’ve known ruined our lives,” Ophelia countered. “I’m not sure I’d want to be one.”
Fair. “It’s all about the intention. Barrett wears the title of king well.”
Her lips twisted to the side. “Assuming he’s able to get to his coronation,” she reminded me. “I’m worried about him.”
“I’m worried about all of us.”
She laughed, tilting her head back. “This place is impressive.”
“I hate to admit it,” I agreed, following her gaze to the murals adorning the ceiling. More fae cruelty, if I had to guess.
Studying the artwork, Ophelia said, a bit sadly, “They remind me of the ones in the Revered’s Palace.”
I wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into me. “What was your favorite back home?”
Absently, Ophelia toyed with the button on my jacket. “I don’t know. I never had enough time to really memorize them.” She was searching through that mind of hers, trying to find a specific recollection from the home we hadn’t seen in months, but with the way her magenta gaze dulled, she came up short.
“There was one in my office I loved,” I said. “It was of a fox hidden in a berry grove.”
Ophelia laughed, and my heart beat faster at the sound. “A berry grove?”
“Odd, right?” I shrugged. “That’s why I liked it. When we get back there, I’ll show you.”
Not if. Because we were returning to the city atop the peaks if it meant my life. Ophelia belonged in the mountains, and I knew she missed them.
We talked about our favorite spots in the Revered’s Palace, ignoring the presence of the fae and all sitting heavily on our shoulders, until finally, the door behind the throne opened. Ritalia and Brystin traipsed back into the audience chamber and stood before the throne.
Ophelia’s persona of Revered instantly slid back up, and she wasted no time reiterating her earlier question. “If not from Lancaster, how do you know about the emblems?”
