King Sref and Queen Kolissa are with Varia and Lucien, of course, glowing with pride and gathered with the ministers and a few other Goldblood nobles near the punch table. There’s a very good-looking Goldblood nobleman, and the queen seems intent on getting him and Varia to talk. I can’t see Fione, but I’m certain she can’t be happy about it. And Varia knows better than to let her displeasure show on her face. She smiles affably, but behind her smiling gaze I see daggers.

I watch my witch converse with her parents, her smile strained. She won’t tell them she’s a witch, and apparently she won’t tell them she’s in a relationship with Fione, either. They haven’t exactly been quiet about their relationship—the guards ordered to follow Varia around by King Sref no doubt have talked at some point—so I’m sure there are rumors I haven’t heard yet. But knowing how much noise was made around the Spring Brides and me for Lucien, I have no doubt the crown princess’s match will be enforced and celebrated in equal measure by her parents.

Unless, of course, she surfaces with an army of valkerax. With that much power, no one would dare tell her who to marry ever again.

But she would be dead soon after, wouldn’t she? A year? Maybe two? If Varia gets the Bone Tree, any marriage to Fione wouldn’t last forever, and that shreds my lungs like broken glass.

Lucien stands beside his parents, dressed in something bloodred, but my eyes skitter over him guiltily. He talks to the king and queen, but he won’t engage in small talk with Varia. He won’t even look her way. Because of me.

My guilt is short-lived as Lady Tarroux’s father—a tall man with a bright blond mustache—waves at her from the refreshment table, and she waves back.

“I’m jealous,” I admit. “I’m an orphan, so I can’t remember my father.”

“Oh.” Tarroux’s face falls. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It happened a long time ago.” I smile. “Are you on good terms with him?”

She sighs. “Usually, yes. But lately…” She shoots me a look. “I’m sorry. You probably don’t want to hear me complain.”

“Are you kidding? I complain all the time to anyone who’ll listen. The least I can do is give back. I promise—your secrets are safe with me.”

“It’s…it’s not really a secret,” she corrects. “It’s just… Father is afraid of the war. He wants to move the two of us back to Helkyris before it fully breaks out.”

My unheart sinks. If she moves, my plan to push her closer to Lucien will fail. The tenuous threads that are reaching out to bind them will be cut clean.

“Do you want to move?” I ask.