Should I go after them? She’d never admit it, but Marai would be furious if anything happened to Aresti.

“There are guards stationed outside her door,” the Master of Spies continued, sensing Ruenen’s agitation. “If there’s any trouble, they will intervene.”

That did little to ease Ruenen’s mind. If Nieve and Aresti wanted to partake in . . . whatever they were doing with Nosficio, it wasn’t his place to stop them.

With a huff, Ruenen sat back down at the high table and poured himself more wine.

Chapter 19

Marai

She didn’t sleep. Not when the feel of Ruenen’s hands and lips across her body kept her mind from settling. Marai patrolled the corridors all night, long after the party ceased and the King’s Guard stood at attention in front of Ruenen’s door. She climbed into bed in the blue light of early morning, but the bedsheets chafed against her sensitive skin. Even in the cold, Marai kicked them off.

A copper dawn arrived, and Marai dressed back in her boring, shapeless brown sack of a dress. The blue gown she’d been forced into the previous night was beautiful, expertly made, with silver thread. She’d never worn such finery before, but it felt wrong on her body. That woman in the banquet hall, who had garnered so many eyes, had been trying to hide her discomfort. Trying not to make a mistake. Trying not to fail Ruenen in this diplomatic mission.

I’d give anything for my Butcher blacks . . .

Marai hastily braided her hair back. Gods, she never wore her hair loose. The castle servant had suggested it, and Marai, too busy staring at the blonde stranger in the mirror, let the woman brush through her tangled locks.

She crept out of the room before any servants came to check on her. Similar to the castle at Kellesar, people already bustled about. Servants and guards didn’t look twice at her as she ventured out into the snow. Flurries littered the air, falling faster and faster the longer Marai walked through the frozen gardens. The boughs of trees glittered in white-blue hoarfrost.

“You’re an early riser, as well,” came Nieve’s voice from behind her. Marai spun to see the queen striding towards her, red hair aflame, wrapped in a white fur coat and hat, skins from the notorious white bears of Grelta. Marai had fought one off months ago at the start of her journey with Ruenen.

Marai bowed. “Habit, Your Grace.”

“I’m glad to have a moment alone with you. It’s a rare opportunity, indeed, to meet any of the fae folk.”

“We’re both uncommon species,” Marai bit out before she could stop herself.

Nieve’s eyes widened, then she grinned. “I can see why he likes you.”

Marai stilled. “Who?”

“Well, the prince, of course, but I meant Nosficio.”

Nosficio? Marai raised an eyebrow.

“When he first appeared in my room after so many months, I was tempted to stake him right then and there,” Nieve said, leading Marai leisurely through the glittering frosted garden. “But he mentioned the Prince of Nevandia had surfaced, with a faerie at his side. He spoke of you with genuine awe. Nosficio is a difficult creature to read, but I could see in his eyes that he’s interested in you and your well-being.” Marai pulled a face, making Nieve chuckle. “No, girl, I don’t mean in that way. Nosficio said you reminded him of an old friend. A creature like him doesn’t have friends, but it was because of you that I decided to write back to Prince Ruenen.”

“I’m merely a bodyguard,” Marai said, but the words felt half-hearted. She was someone: Queen Meallán’s descendant, the progeny to her power, and perhaps even the faerie throne.

“You’re wrong, Lady Marai,” said Nieve, giving her that ice-blue stare. “I think you may well be the difference maker in this war. You and Prince Ruenen are changing the rules. You inspired a vampire to join your cause, for Lirr’s sake. He said you may be the only one able to stop Rayghast. I’m sending my troops off to battle because I believe in you.”

“I could be one of those wild, deviant faeries everyone thinks we are.”

Nieve chuckled again. “For better or worse, I trust Nosficio’s word.”

“Why?” Marai asked, unable to stop herself. “What happened between you and Nosficio?”

Nieve’s face shuttered for a moment. The confidence she’d been displaying wilted slightly. “Life is difficult when you have a sick husband who cannot perform his duties. He hasn’t for some time . . .” Nieve’s eyes glistened, but she shook off whatever emotion she’d been letting in. “I respect my husband. Ours was a friendship before we were ever married; rare in the royal world. He remains my dearest friend, but there was never attraction or passion between us. Maes and I agreed many years ago, after his symptoms first appeared, that I could meet with whomever I wanted.”

Shock froze Marai to the spot. Nieve plucked a sharp icicle, long as a dagger, from a branch, twirling it in her gloved fingers. It reminded Marai of a wooden stake.

“I met Nosficio two years ago. At first, it was flirtation. Something forbidden I knew I would not touch. But he was persistent. Charming. I’d never known a vampire to be so . . . respectful. Considering the terrible things I’d heard about him, I doubted his intentions. Then, our relationship became strictly physical. And it worked fine for both of us . . . until he bit me in a moment of bloodlust.”

Marai couldn’t stop the loud gasp from escaping. Nosficio could have killed Nieve, turned her into a vampire.

No wonder she hired a mercenary . . .

“Nosficio hadn’t eaten in days. I’d refused to allow him to feed on my staff and subjects. I didn’t realize that he was starving himself to remain in my company. The bite wasn’t bad, especially since I stabbed Nosficio the minute his teeth clamped down on my neck, but my children saw the bite. They’d watched a vampire nearly kill their mother. Nosficio fled, and I barred him from ever entering Lirrstrass again. I hired a mercenary to send him the message to keep away.” Nieve looked back at Marai with amusement. “He told me it was you who gave him the warning.”

Marai dipped her head. “Thank you for the generous payment.”

Nieve smiled. “I haven’t forgiven him. I don’t trust his actions, but I trust his assessment of you.” Nieve’s face grew serious again as she gazed up at the White Ridge Mountains looming in the distance, shrouded in fog and snow. “I’ve never believed faeries were evil. Certainly not in this lifetime. Your people once ruled these lands before my husband’s bloodline took over. War is inevitable when everyone wants power.”

“My parents were from the North,” Marai said. It was strange to discuss such personal things with the Queen of Grelta, herself. But Nieve didn’t seem to have any qualms about intimacy.

“Oh, that’s obvious,” said Nieve, gesturing to Marai’s fair hair and complexion. “I hope that you will not only bring acceptance for your people and other magical folk, but also be a strong force for Nevandian women, as well.”

Marai blinked and looked away. No one was less qualified to be a voice for women. Not after Slate. Not after all the lives she’d taken.

“I see the shadow over your heart, Lady Marai,” Nieve said softly. “Don’t let your past dictate who you are in the future. You’re strong. Lead Nevandia to a better place. And I promise I’ll do the same here in Grelta.”

Nieve held out her bejeweled hand; rubies and sapphires big as walnuts glittered in the morning sun. Marai stared at it. I am worthy, she reminded herself. She shook the queen’s gloved hand tersely.

“Now, I must go back inside. The council and your prince are already drafting away in there. I always insist on being part of such significant negotiations.” Nieve gave Marai one last smile before turning back towards the castle.

Marai stayed outside a while longer, breathing in the crisp winter air. She hadn’t thought about her ties to this country. The place she was born before her parents moved to the fae camps in the Northwestern part of Tacorn. Before they’d been slaughtered.

Her feet tread through the snow, leaving behind small footprints from her tattered slippers. Eventually, the cold became too great to tolerate, and Marai hurried back inside, shaking the flakes from her clothes in the entry hall. She grumbled to herself, longing for sandy beaches and striking ocean sunsets.

Inside the chamber, Nieve sat on her throne, listening intently to the councilmen and Goso discussing . . . whatever business they had to discuss. Marai wasn’t one for politics. The intricacies of treaties and wartime alliances were beyond her.

Ruenen’s eyes glazed over as he nodded in his chair, on the dais next to the Greltan thrones. Marai chuckled. It appeared he wasn’t one for politics, either, but Ruenen perked up when Marai entered. Nosficio, fully covered in his cloak, and Aresti, were also present, standing amongst the other Nevandian guards.

“Enjoy your evening?” Nosficio asked, voice light and casual, as Marai joined them. He plucked a speck of dust from his cloak with a gloved hand.

“Fine. How was yours?” asked Marai, revealing nothing.

Nosficio and Aresti both suddenly avoided Marai’s eyes.

“Quite pleasant,” said the vampire. “Wouldn’t you agree, Aresti?”

Aresti didn’t respond. She stared, instead, at Nieve. Suspicion brewed in Marai’s stomach, but there were too many people around to ask questions.

Marai crossed her arms. “We need to leave soon. We’ve been away too long.”

After another hour of negotiations, Nieve announced, “Lord Goso can remain here as our guest to further discuss the trade details. You’re pressed for time, Your Highness, eager to return home. Rest assured that we will begin preparing our troops immediately.”