“Just sprucing the place up,” she says and waves out a hand, suddenly in a good mood. “I can make anything happen in the Evanescence. Food. Parties. Wine. Fucking. Anything your lurid little heart desires.”

I try to appear interested in her answer as I force down another bite of food.

“Can you control what happens on the surface?”

She typically refuses to humor this line of questioning, but she pauses for only a heartbeat before she replies. “My role on the surface is to keep watch over the Artefacts and ensure they’re doing their job. I am also the conduit for their magic.”

“What about what happened in Aphelion?” I ask, hoping to keep her talking. “Atlas has been pretending to be their king. Aren’t the Artefacts supposed to stop that?”

She spins the stem of her wine glass and takes a sip. “Yes. That. Well, I was getting around to dealing with it.”

“It’s been nearly a century.”

“Has it?” She blinks her big eyes. “Time moves in its own way up here.”

“Isn’t that your job?” I ask, trying to keep the judgment out of my voice. Probably not all that successfully.

“I knew that jacket would suit you.” She reaches out and dusts my shoulder before she adjusts the lapel, clearly trying to change the subject. I guess that’s the end of her chatty mood. I resist every urge to throw her hands off me.

“I think we’ll have one just like it made for the wedding—perhaps with some gold here.”

She presses her hand to my chest and then tips her head with a smile. “Won’t that be nice?”

“Zerra,” I say. “I have a mate. We can’t get married.”

“You just said you were staying.”

“Yes, but I’m not marrying you. I can’t.”

She shoves me in a playful way, but it’s a bit too forceful to be believable. My chair nearly tips due to her strength, and I grunt as I right myself.

“Don’t be silly. Your mate won’t be alive much longer.”

Those words snap me to attention. “What does that mean?”

She hums to herself as she stands up and strides over to the window.

“Zerra,” I growl, following her across the room. I grab her arm to turn her towards me.

“What the fuck does that mean? If you touch her—”

A sharp slap cuts off my words, my head snaps to the side, and I taste blood in my mouth.

“Do not grab me,” Zerra says, calmly smoothing down the front of her dress. “Her presence is a threat. And soon, you won’t even remember her. Soon, all you’ll need is me.”

If I thought I was angry before, it’s nothing compared to the visceral anger now churning in my blood.