In the middle of the balcony is a long white table covered in white dishes filled with an array of colorful food.

Cyan takes his seat at the far end while Linden sits to his left.

“Ah, you’re here,” comes a breezy voice, and a moment later, another High Fae female approaches. Her skin is a deep, rich brown and her hair is a long fall of turquoise curls. She’s wearing a sheer blue robe that molds to her body—I can see her dark nipples through the fabric—and a small pair of white bottoms on her lower half. As she walks, the slit in her robe reveals a length of her smooth leg that shimmers in the light.

“Anemone,” Cyan says to the woman, his tone warm. “Come have dinner with us. Our guest has arrived.”

She stops, places a hand on her hip, and scans me up and down. “So this is her?” she asks. There’s no menace in her expression, but there is something calculated in it.

“Yes,” Linden says, gritting her teeth. “This is the filth that dared to darken our doorstep.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, finally having enough of her attitude. “What exactly is your problem with me? I know we haven’t met before.”

Linden’s green eyes flash, a snarl ripping from her throat.

“Linden,” Anemone chides. “Let’s not be rude to our guest.”

Anemone then moves down the length of the table, dragging her fingertips along the surface until she reaches Cyan and drops into his lap. Immediately, his hand finds her bare thigh.

“I will not deign to have dinner with her,” Linden hisses.

“What did I do?” I demand, officially sick of this shit.

“Lor,” Cyan says, his tone light. “I think it’s time you are properly introduced to my second-in-command.”

“Okay?”

“Linden is the former princess of The Woodlands, and I believe that makes her . . . your great-aunt.”

CHAPTER 6

Oh. Ohhhh.

It takes a moment to fully process Cyan’s words. Linden, with her brown hair and green eyes, looks nothing like the residents of Alluvion. Everyone else has silvery or blue hair and eyes that range from nearly white to charcoal to navy.

I look at her more closely, and there I see the resemblance to Cedar, the Woodlands King, in the slope of her nose and the bow of her lips.

“She killed my brother,” Linden spits with enough venom to burn a hole in the floor.

“I had nothing to do with that,” I say, feeling the desire to defend myself. “That was hundreds of years before I was born.”