He’d answered, “That king’s the strongest of his kind. He’s too powerful to be routed by another fey.”

She’d bitten her tongue, instead of voicing her thought: And Saetth knows it. Which is a vulnerability in itself. . . .

Her attention was again drawn to the mantel. The Lôtān head and the scepter seemed to call to her.

The moment grew dreamlike; yes, everything felt connected. This was why she’d been brought back for a second life.

Fate wanted Lila to be queen.

Suddenly she knew how to defeat Saetth.

She laughed at the solution, stamping her feet. By not defeating him at all. . . .

FIFTY-FIVE

Sian and Rune stilled, waiting to see if the glass would hold.

Tense moments passed. The fracture began to slow. By all the gods, stop.

When it finally did, they both exhaled a gust of breath.

“Are you done with this?” Rune traced to his feet, adjusting his jaw.

Now that the heat of the fight had ebbed, Sian was left with . . . emptiness. He gave a faint nod.

“I truly thought she would tell you.” Rune shoved his hair out of his face. “I read your mind when Josie and I stopped by, and I saw how happy your mate was making you. I wanted that for you.”

“She did make me happy. Before I learned of her treachery.”

“I didn’t do this to harm you. Think, Sian—can you comprehend how difficult forgoing my own revenge was? She’s been one of my targets since her birth.”

“How did you forgo it? You vowed to yourself, to Orion. Even to Magh.”

Rune crossed to the war room’s table, then dropped into a seat. “I vowed fealty to my allies. That comes before all others.” He rooted in his jacket pocket and produced a flask of demon brew. He took a swig, then offered it.

After a tense moment, Sian joined him at the table. He accepted the flask and drank deep.

“I agonized over this decision, talking out all the ramifications with Josie. Who, by the way, will hand me my ass for not bringing her with me. But I figured something was up when you summoned me here.”

“What if I’d never found out?” Sian passed the flask back. The two sat side by side, gazing out at the galaxy. “How would you have gotten past the fact that my mate and I might’ve added to Magh’s line?”

No matter what he’d said to Calliope, Sian wouldn’t have cared who her ancestors were. Last night, he’d felt the possibility—no, the certitude of children between them.

He mourned the loss.

“Josie reminded me that every other fey in that line might be evil, but if Calliope isn’t, then my reasoning would be flawed. She also pointed out that my father was evil, but I’m not. We’re not our parents.” Rune took a generous swig. “I never thought I would still have so bloody much to learn at my age. . . .”

They both fell silent at that, wordlessly drinking. What am I going to do now? Sian had no appetite for war, no interest in combat.

Earlier, when he’d stopped by the throne room to tell Uthyr his plans, the dragon had been pacing, already aware of what had occurred. . . .

—Free your mate!— he’d demanded.

“She stays where she is, dragon. Do not interfere.”

—Have you finally lost your demonic mind?— Uthyr had loosed a stream of flame beside Sian. A dragon’s way of snapping his fingers? —What if she did set out with ill intentions but grew to love you?—

“Over the adored king of her kind? I couldn’t win Kari’s love when I’d been as handsome as Saetth. Now . . .” Sian had gestured to himself. “You told me to accept my curse. She’s my second one. I must accept that she is vicious down to her soul, and nothing will change that.”

Uthyr’s parting shot: —Mark the words of a very old dragon: this will not end well for you.—

How could it? Sian’s dreams were dead. Matehood was an impossibility. Just as he’d always known.

Minutes passed, maybe hours. The pull to return to his mate intensified. I fucking miss her. But the time they’d spent—filled with laughter, play, and pleasure—was over.

Allixta, the Møriør’s spellcaster, sashayed into the room, her oversize witch’s hat covering her long raven hair. Curses, her enormous otherworld panther, slunk beside her. The towering Darach Lyka followed. Though the full moon had been last night, Darach looked to be on the very edge of turning, his eyes ice blue, his beast barely leashed. But then, he was like that most nights.

“We couldn’t help but delve into your minds,” the witch said unapologetically. “Such turmoil, demon.” She sat at the table, Curses leaping atop the surface.

Sian could feel her prying into his thoughts for even more detail. He gave her free leave.

Speech proved difficult for Darach when he was this far gone, so he used telepathy. —Betrayed again?—

“Yet again.” Betrayed and tricked.

Allixta asked Sian, “How could your mate stomach sleeping with you when you look like that?” Leave it to the witch not to sugarcoat anything. “The fey king, for all his faults, is sublime. To go from him to you . . . I feel for her.”

Sublime? Sian would kill that prick. Soon.

Rune grated, “You’re not helping things.” He and Allixta were forever quarreling. When they started up again, Sian tuned them out, his gaze shifting back to the glass.

A starburst at the center of a fracture caught his attention. It reminded him of the diamond.

He focused on that starburst. Little by little, the crimson haze seemed to disperse. As his clarity returned, he recalled something Calliope had said last night.

You’ll never give me a fair chance.

She’d asked him how they could work on the issues they currently had when he couldn’t get over the past.

Had his rage against Kari colored his judgment of Calliope? Would he have viewed her dream differently had she never betrayed him in the past?

Maybe he wouldn’t have jumped to the worst conclusions.

With this growing focus, he pictured Calliope’s breathless wonder when he’d claimed her. She’d wanted him to. Why? She’d had no reason to up the stakes between them, no reason to offer her neck so trustingly.

Curious, he dug deeper into his memories of her dream, experiencing impressions he hadn’t before.