If he were here, I would have pinned him down with my magic and shouted at him until I made myself hoarse. I would have slapped him as hard as I could and then kissed the sting away. I would have taken him by the shoulders and shook him so violently he couldn't tell up from down and then I would pound his chest with my fists as I sobbed against him with relief. Unbearable relief.
But he wasn't here.
So I settled for pushing all of the rage I held within me at him. All of my fury with my mother, my anger toward Lord Koa, my sorrow for my father, and the lividity I had felt when she had tried to dress me like her prized possession, when she had attempted to make me into her princess. I would never be her princess.
He reached back out with a caress but I snapped my magic away, severing the connection. For now.
He would find a way back to me, I knew he would. And I already knew that I would forgive him when he did. But for now I just wanted to be angry. I wanted to sit in silence and stew about the fact that he could have reached out to me at any time, could have let me know he was alive, at least. Because the not knowing had been killing me. Not knowing if he was alive or dead. Not knowing if he had been captured again, imprisoned somewhere I didn't even know of, somewhere I couldn't possibly get to. And knowing that I was here, playing princess and antagonizing my mother while he was out there somewhere. It was a fate worse than death.
I felt her the, poking and prodding her way into my mind. My hastily constructed walls were up in seconds but she hadn't been trying to read my thoughts. She was trying to deliver one.
I don't know what you think you're doing, she hissed into my mind and the accompanying sensation, like a high-pitched ringing in my ears, had me wincing and closing my eyes. But you've embarrassed us all in front of this court, our court. And if you think we won't be discussing this once the guests have gone, you're entirely wrong, girl.
I felt her absence like a gulp of fresh air in my lungs. She left me reeling so badly that I had to reach out and stabilize myself with a hand on the back of an ornate armchair which had been brought in for seating for the guests.
"Take a deep breath," someone was speaking quietly beside me and I felt my father's hand on the small of my back a moment later. "Let's get you some air. Come."
I went without argument, clinging to him as we made our way to the nearest door and stepped outside. It was a veranda, of course, a long outdoor hallway with benches and torches set into the walls at odd intervals. He led me to one of the former and motioned for me to sit down. But I didn't. Because this was the first time that I had actually gotten a real view of the Court of Peace and Pride outside of the palace.
The balcony of the throne room overlooked a wide valley between two lush, low mountain ranges. Rolling hills and plains as far as the eye could see with green grasses interspersed with fertile farmland. A quaint little town was set into the mountainside only a mile or so away, lights on in every home, surrounded by an orchard of apple trees swaying gently in the evening breeze. Birds flew above our heads, soaring through the pink sky, toward the sun as it sank low on the horizon.
"Quite an outfit choice," my father said after a moment, having given me adequate time to take in the beautiful view of my mother's court, what could have been my court.
"I couldn't wear her colors," I told him. "I couldn't wear her crown."
"I know."
He took a sip of some amber liquid I didn't recognize and we both stared out at the sunset until the pinks and oranges turned to purples and then to a bluish black, until the moon rose high above us and the stars twinkled beside it.
"It's beautiful," I breathed once the world was asleep.
"It is," he agreed with a nod. "Despite everything."
I hesitated, allowed his words to sink in.
"How do I keep her out?" I asked.
He turned to me but I kept my eyes on the distant horizon, on that little town whose lights were still glowing in the distance.
"Your mind is yours and yours alone, Seren," he said, his voice lower so as not to be heard by the partygoers walking the length of the balcony behind us. "She can try to claim it but it's yours."
I took a breath.
"I try to build those walls but—" I started.
"For me, it's less of a wall. More like a lock and key. Simplistic, I suppose, for a mortal. Or a man who was..."
He faltered here, trailing off, and I saw the pain in his expression for the memory of what he once was, what he could have been.
"I don't have magic," he said, settling on another course of explanation. "I can't use that force to protect myself, to build anything up within me. If you have it, you should use it. But I can't teach you that. All I have are tricks. Ways to keep her out of your head entirely and, if those fail, a way to at least lock away what is most important to you, what you never want her to know."
"How do I keep her out entirely?"
"There are different ways. I find that distraction works best. And not making myself a target."
A pointed glance at my dress. I frowned.
"Create another person wholly different from who you really are and become that person whenever you're around her. She won't try to peek beneath the veil if there's nothing to entice her to do so."
"Be a good little princess then," I grumbled. "That's your advice."
"For now," he replied with a shrug. "I must be returning to the party. She will start to miss us both if we linger much longer."
I nodded, keeping my eyes on the darkening valley below as he turned and strode back towards the doors.
"Oh and Seren," he said after a moment. I turned back to find that we were the only ones on the balcony now. Everyone else must have gone back inside when it became dark. "She knows you have some special power. She wants to know what it is. Badly."
***
I was in a foul mood as I perched on one of those frilly little armchairs, third glass of wine in hand as I surveyed the preening peacocks of my mother's court as they danced and paraded about the elegant throne room. I stared at the russet marble floor below and tried in vain not to recall how Lark's blood had flowed upon it, how Cass had kneeled here, sobbing, how desperately the twins had tried to slip their bonds. A hard knot formed in my chest and I took another sip of wine to loosen it.
"Not a fan of parties, princess?" A male voice I didn't recognize queried from somewhere above me.
I turned, looking up into the smiling face behind me. He had a goblet of his own, held out away from him as if he feared spilling any on his exquisite copper suit. His hair was a spun gold, lighter than mine, brighter. And atop those high, angular cheekbones sat eyes of deepest almond, sparkling in the light of the chandelier. He cut a striking figure and would have been impressive had he been the first high Fae male I'd ever met. But he wasn't. So I just scowled at him and stood.
"I'm out of wine," I announced with a growl and strode away to seek a refill.
Unfortunately, he seemed to feel inclined to come along and leaned on the bar next to me as I waited for the servant behind it to pour. To the rim, as I'd advised him.
"The alcohol will help now," he told me, eyes still scanning the crowd, still not looking my way though I knew he was speaking to me and me alone, "but you'll feel like hell in the morning."
"I've been to hell," I snapped, grabbing my glass and taking a deep sip for impact. "How much worse could it be?"
He snorted at that, finally turning to face me. He took his time setting his glass onto the bar while he looked me up and down. Once he had completed his appraisal, he lifted a hand, just as I was poised to take another sip, and covered the top of my glass with it, effectively stopping me.
"To keep your wits about you, then," he spoke softly, casting a glance over my shoulder.
I turned to see my mother was far behind me, near the stairs, greeting some courtiers that she hadn't gotten to yet. Understanding his warning at last, I lowered my glass to the bar next to his and turned back to face him.
"Who are you?" I asked, my eyes narrowed in a new sort of scrutiny.
"Family," he answered with a grin. When I furrowed my brow in confusion, he continued. "I'm your cousin, Irim. And you are Seren. It's a pleasure to meet you. I have to admit, I never thought I would."
"Cousin," I repeated, dumbfounded. "I-I didn't know."
"How could you? No one ever speaks of my mother, not anymore. The younger sister of a powerful Fae princess. The one who lost her mind to grief when the Bone Court killed her bonded."
My spine straightened. Bonded. I narrowed my gaze again. Did he know that I was bonded myself? Was that why he had brought up the mention of his mother's situation so casually? Lark had said that being bonded was incredibly rare and yet I found myself speaking to a man tied so closely to one. But he couldn't know. I hadn't even known myself until recently and I certainly hadn't told anyone of it. Still, it seemed frightfully coincidental that he should mention it to me now.
"Why?" I asked, still died by the brutal honesty of this stranger's answer.
"Why do they not talk about her?" He asked, shrugging as if the matter was of no consequence. "Because people prefer to ignore that which makes them uncomfortable. It reminds them that they did nothing to help her in her time of need."
"No. I mean, why did the Bone Court kill him?"
His jaw clenched at that.
"Because he was a fool," he spat, turning away from me and preferring to watch the party while he answered this particular question. "My mother never admitted that to herself, that he might have had a share in the blame for his death himself. And Ariadne, well she was looking for any reason to hate the Bone Court. She always is."
His eyes did not stray from the revelers around us but I could tell that last point was directed at me.
"Why are you telling me this?" I asked because I didn't know what else to say.
"You're new here," he told me with another shrug, finally turning back to face me again, "and I prefer to be the one who tells my story."
Something like respect passed through me at that.
"Besides, I saw how you entered in that dress. I saw the look on your face when you put your mother in her place," he said, his lips spreading into a wicked grin. "And I think you might be the only person in this whole infernal court whom I might actually get along with."