Because it looked like Guinn had been right, and Faerie was trying to kill me. In more than one way, I thought as my brain went swimmy just as the fey’s shouts came closer. Cut it out, I thought desperately. Cut it out and let me—

Arsen’s quarters were beautiful, and as big as a palace. They had belonged to his parents before they died, and he had kept them by right, although they were far too large for a bachelor. But he’d grown up here, had played on these balconies, had run across these terraces with the wind in his hair, laughter on his lips, and a kite in his hand, while his mother’s admonitions to stay away from the edge rang in his ears.

These rooms usually brought him a sense of peace.

Not today.

He poured himself a drink and headed out onto one of the smaller balconies. It was freezing, thanks to the winter storm the king had conjured up, to stall his rival’s invasion. But Arsen rarely felt such things, having his people’s natural resistance to the cold.

But as soon as he breeched the ward, it sounded like an army of banshees had descended on him, the howling was so great. One of his servants came running, probably alarmed at the thought of all that ice and snow besmirching the perfectly polished floor, but Arsen waved him off. And pushed out into the winds anyway, allowing the ward to close up after him and reveling in the wildness of it for a moment, the savagery.

It fit his mood.

The balcony had no view, just a wall of white, but then, it never did. It had walls on two sides and faced several tall towers on the others. That left only a small bit of sky visible even on a good day, but also meant that it was well protected from the winds. They barely ruffled his hair as he settled onto the chair where his mother used to sew.

She’d liked it here, a small enclave away from the hustle and bustle of the suite of a senior lord, where she and her ladies could gossip and laugh without prying ears or watchful eyes. He had rarely come here as a boy for that same reason, it having few attractions for a child. But he suspected that was why he’d adopted it now.

It had no memories associated with it, no ghosts to tug at his heart strings, no anything but white sky and creamy marble, leaving him to his thoughts.

They were not pleasant ones.