“However, I believe I have an alternative for you, Lady Marai,” Holfast said, now focusing his stoic brown eyes back on her. “I’d like for you to continue your role as his personal guard. Perhaps even be a permanent advisor on the Witan. You will always have his best interests and safety at heart. There’s no one who will serve him with more vigor. Ruenen must marry the appropriate queen, however that doesn’t mean you cannot become his mistress.”
“What?” Marai spat the word.
“We can come to an appropriate arrangement,” the Steward continued. “His queen can be situated in a suite on the opposite side of the castle. As long as she produces a royal heir or two, you can still be adored by the king, love him, have your fun. Even have a few children of your own, if you so desire.”
The acidic words burned. The food and wine she’d consumed turned rancid within her stomach.
Could she become Ruenen’s mistress? Watch as he married another, knowing that he’d be forced to perform his husbandly duties and sire an heir? Did Marai have the strength to see another woman bear his children?
Marai had barely begun thinking of her future, but she’d never imagined being the other woman. She steeled herself, sharpened her features like a blade. Holfast wasn’t trying to hurt her—he was trying to open her eyes.
“Whatever you decide to do, make certain it’s a life you can live with,” he said, not unkindly. “Someone with your spark should never feel confined to a cage.”
Marai couldn’t bear to watch those girls flirt with Ruenen any longer. She hated how Vorae was already hard at work in talks with ambassadors from different kingdoms around the room, probably discussing which princess had the highest fortune.
Air. I need air.
Marai practically ran from the hall into the courtyard. She leapt out into the night and gulped down the cool spring breeze, the smell of wisteria filling her nose.
Holfast was right, of course. It wasn’t as if Marai hadn’t known or expected . . . she’d gotten swept up in the fantasy of it all.
But what would Ruenen think? She knew he wouldn’t accept Holfast’s words. Ruenen would fight against any betrothal, but eventually, he’d have no choice. He had a duty, as all kings did before him.
There was a part of Marai that wanted to run. To grab her black cloak and disappear into the night, so she could shut out the breaking of her heart. But she couldn’t become the Butcher again. She couldn’t erect the walls and hide from the world anymore.
I’ll talk to him. Tonight, when we’re alone, we’ll discuss this together.
That was the right thing to do. They’d started this journey together. They would find an answer.
“Marai, are you alright?”
Marai whipped around. Keshel strode towards her, pack slung over his shoulder. Another larger one was strapped to his back.
“I’m fine,” she blurted, then her mind began to comprehend Keshel’s appearance. “Are you leaving?”
“It’s time, I think.”
“You don’t want to stay until the end of the feast? Did you say goodbye to the others?”
“Yes, during dinner. I thought it was best to slip away,” he said, studying Marai’s face. He clearly didn’t believe she was fine. “Will you remain here in Nevandia?”
“I have no intention of leaving Ruenen,” she stated firmly. “I suppose I need to decide what kind of life I want to lead, as Holfast so aptly reminded me . . .”
Keshel stepped closer. “You could become Queen of the Fae. You could leave, take up your birthright, and unite the magical folk of this continent.”
“Leave and go where? I have no kingdom, Keshel,” said Marai with a shake of her head. “I don’t even know if I want to be Queen of the Fae.”
There was an eagerness in Keshel’s voice as he said, “I think the gods are telling us something. You’re meant to lead your people, Marai. I’ve had visions recently. Visions of you, of the future. You don’t need to stay here. You owe Ruenen nothing. You saved his kingdom. You can come with us.”
“I won’t leave Ruenen. This is where I choose to be,” Marai said, then halted. “What do you mean ‘us’?”
Keshel’s face burned with excitement. “I didn’t want to say before when you were still healing: I met another faerie.”
Keshel’s words punched Marai in the stomach. “How?”
“Well, actually, he found us. He’s the one who traveled here with Tarik’s group.” Keshel grinned.
This was why he’d been acting so strange. He’d been sneaking off to talk to another faerie!
“Oh, here he is now—”
Footsteps approached from the courtyard entrance. A man, with a small pack slung over his shoulder, strolled across the cobblestones. He had dark skin and bright silvery eyes. His knit cap covered shiny black hair and pointed fae ears. He was strikingly handsome . . . and also familiar.
“Marai, this is Koda,” Keshel said, gesturing to the stranger.
Koda grinned and bowed to Marai. “We meet again.”
The man on the docks in Cleaving Tides who’d bought her fish, had urged Marai to come to Andara.
“I remember you,” Marai said in disbelief.
Koda’s grin widened. “I’m honored. I’ve been hoping to run into you again.”
A strange, wary feeling crept under her skin. Koda seemed too eager. Although, Marai supposed that a solitary fae would be excited to meet more of his kind . . .
“I’ve been tracking you ever since Cleaving Tides, when I helped free your prince, or rather, king, from Rayghast’s hunters,” he said.
“I thought perhaps you were behind his escape,” Marai replied.
