“Of course I will, Temir, but they aren’t smart, you know? At least not all of them. I still listen in the halls. I spirit around, and they talk too much.”
I made a mental note to talk to Rook about that. “You could join.”
She moved her fingers through her hair and looked up to the clear skies, taking a deep breath. The pleading tone to her voice nearly undid me. “I would never. You can’t trust them. You can’t trust anyone. Only me, Temir. Only me.” She walked back to me and wrapped her hands around my waist, laying her head on my chest, and for that one single moment, I was lost in her.
She was my comfort. She was my home. But she pulled away too soon.
“Why won’t you let me love you, Gaea?”
“Because I’m just as broken as you are, Temir. There’s nothing to love in broken things.” She looked away, her hair trailing behind her like wings. As if she could fly away. But then she could, if she wanted to.
“You are not broken.” I moved a step toward her. “Your heart is broken, but it will mend. Oleonis would not want you to live in this constant mourning. Please come back to me, and it can be like it was before.”
“It can never be like it was before.”
She shattered me with those chilling words. I’d waited. I’d wanted her for so long from afar, and she’d just ended it right there.
“There’s to be a ball at the Marsh Court, and we are required to attend,” she said dully. “That’s how I knew you were gone last night. We leave tomorrow after dinner. You’re to wear something sharp.”
Her voice was quiet, and though I was hurting too, I couldn’t see her like this.
“Listen.” I stepped in, sweeping my finger below her chin and forcing her gaze to mine. “It is just going to take some more time, that’s all. We have all the time in the world.”
She shook her head, and a tear dropped down her cheek. “How do I even deserve you?”
In that moment, I had begun to wonder the same thing. If I was being shamefully honest, would it ever work when my feelings didn’t seem to matter at all? It killed me to think that because her feelings mattered too and everyone grieved in their own way. Maybe we weren’t being fair to each other. Or maybe I was trying to force something that wasn’t meant to be.
* * *
I stood before the long mirror in my room and pulled the wrinkles from the sleeve of my jacket. It seemed the first few times I had gone to the rebels I felt like an imposter, but now, as time had passed, I felt like an imposter here in the castle instead. I was questioning where I stood with Gaea, Oleo was gone, and the only real work I was doing was making as much of the truth serum as possible and hiding it any way I could.
I left my rooms to meet in the great hall as we always did before leaving the kingdom. No one traveled with luggage, because unlike other kingdoms, Gaea would have us all home before morning.
The king was the last to arrive, as usual, and it seemed even he was dressed for finery tonight. The customary travel companions had come. I stood between Autus in his layers of furs and Gaea, as beautiful as ever in a long black-sequined gown. Next to her, Eadas adjusted his stiff collar and Ragal stood still as a statue, waiting. We would go in pairs of two. I always wondered how Gaea’s magic worked. It seemed so different from mine. She never seemed tired or drained.
“Before we go,” the king announced. “Keep your eyes on the details of the Marsh Court. The next time we leave for this palace, it will be to take it as our own.”
Within mere minutes, we stood in a group just outside of King Coro’s dining hall. The folk rushed about or stumbled depending on their level of inebriation. The air was full of the sweet scent of wine and laughter, and though the night was meant to be full of jubilation, something in the sugared air turned my stomach—as though fate had already predicted the night to be a tragedy. Our party held blank faces as we stood together but so far apart. The Wind Court would always be the hindrance, the hateful, the hammer. Autus cultivated nothing else, and unless you escaped his heavy hand, you were just a pawn.
The air was different here, but so was the atmosphere. It was a warmer, humid climate with a stronger scent of the gardens than we got in the north. I envied the south for that. Droves of lesser fae were invited as guests to the ball, not just servants, and though I had been to the Marsh Court hundreds of times over the years, the stark difference between their court and ours was nearly inspiring.
It bothered me that lesser fae were still unpaid servants in this court—put together and fed last, with less freedoms than the high fae. Even so, it was worlds apart from the Wind Court and Autus loathed coming here because of it.
I thought perhaps Morwena was the reason we came, but oddly enough, she didn’t seem to be in attendance. The king stopped for none of the exaggerated revelry as he crossed the cavernous hall bedecked in gold foil wallpaper and took his royal seat beside King Coro at the head table. We sat close by as a group.
Food was promptly served and devoured, and then everyone was moved toward the ballroom for the dance to begin. I noticed Gaea taking in all the small details and even occasionally smiling at one passing thing or another. I supposed that was just another difference between us. The details didn’t seem to matter to me anymore.
We stood atop the stairs and were introduced to the room just before our king. As we began our descent, a lesser fae moved into King Autus’ way, and Gaea clamped her hand on my arm. She sucked in a sharp breath in warning just before the king planted his enormous foot on the back of the butterfly winged fae and kicked him down the lavish stairs. The room stopped only long enough for the fae to scream out in pain, and then they all went back to what they were doing like it hadn’t happened. The king took his seat. I watched the fae out of the corner of my eye as he crawled inch by inch out of the way across the marble floor.
I looked to Gaea, and she shook her head. But how could I just leave him?
She grabbed my arm again and whispered, “You can’t, Temir. He will see you.”
I had forgotten. The king believed that only the council and Morwena knew of my magic, knew why the king who passionately hated the lesser fae would allow one to stand with him. Gaea looked like a high fae in every way except her feline eyes. Me? I had rapidly growing stag horns. They were hard to miss.
“I have to. Just distract him.”
She nodded slowly. She did not agree, but she would always have my back. “Be quick about it,” she snapped.
