𝔸 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕎𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕙 (Book 2)

Sixty-Nine

The palace was adorned with shell-flecked walkways, walls of pure windows looking toward the open sea beyond the castle. Sea glass chandeliers swayed in the warm breeze that filtered throughout the building. High Fae scurried around the various structures of the castle, most of them clad in loose clothing that brought out the scenery around them. No lesser faeries crossed our path, not one.

    I stood at Rhys's side as we leisurely stalked through the halls. Amren remained within reach, her eyes scouring every inch of the palace greedily as she noted the different gold and jeweled aspects littering the walls.

    Tarquin and Rhys talked beside me—their conversation giving me the slight impression that I shouldn't have been walking parallel to them, but instead a step behind. But screw it. Fuck the patriarchy.

    Though there wasn't much to whatever the two males were doing. They were both already sounding bored, talking about the upcoming Nynsar—of the flowers both courts would present and display for the minor holiday.

    Calanmai wouldn't be too long after that. It was odd thinking about that holiday. Thinking about who I used to be just a year ago. Reckless and unbound. I'd snuck out of Tamlin's manor almost entirely out of spite for him. I'd let myself be led into the woods with the intent to kill those terrible faeries only to meet—and threaten—the High Lord beside me now.

    I wondered where that me had gone in those months after Amarantha. The woman who hadn't been afraid to defy Tamlin. Instead, I'd let myself become a prisoner.

A prisoner.

That's what I had been.

    I refused to let my thoughts stray too far. I forcibly yanked myself away from my thoughts.

    "We have four main cities in the territory," A voice spoke to me. I looked over, finding that the High Lord of Summer Court was indeed talking to me. "We spend the last month of winter and the first spring months in Adriata—its finest at this time of year."

    "So, I've seen. Your city is lovely, High Lord." I admired, making a show of looking out one of the large windows on my left. I met Tarquins eyes again, a small, simple smile on my face.

Yes, my role was Rhys's damn harlot. But we also wanted an into the Court. I needed to be on Tarquins good side. If a few flirty smiles and longing looks got us there, then so be it.

    The High Lord of Summer stared at me long enough that Rhys chimed in, "The repairs have been going well, I take it."

    Tarquin looked to him, hauling his attention back. "Mostly. There remains much to be done. The back half of the castle is a wreck. But, as you can see, we've finished most of the inside. We've focused on the city first, and those repairs are ongoing."

    Rhys said, "I hope no valuables were lost during its occupation." Subtle, as always.

    "Not the most important things, thank the Mother." Tarquin sighed in relief.

    Behind me, Cresseida tensed. A motion I didn't fail to notice.

    Three of Tarquins advisors peeled away, mumbling their apologies to Rhysand as they claimed they had things to attend to before they sent wary looks in Tarquins direction as if nervous as to what he'd do.

    In return, he gave them a small smile that didn't meet his eyes before leading us into a vaulted room of white oak and green glass. As if on reflex, I walked toward the large window at the end of the room, overlooking the bay and the sea that stretched forever.

    I didn't think in all my travels I'd ever seen water such vibrant colors. Warm greens, light blues, and dark midnight colors. It was a sight to behold.