“The Princess has been feeling unwell and retired early tonight,” Tem said, glancing at Cole, who nodded back to him. “I’m sure she’ll feel better tomorrow.”

“We will speak with her tomorrow, then,” Carys said resolutely.

Bri shifted. She knew what her friend was saying: there are too many people here to talk openly about what had happened.

“Whatever you need to say, you can say in front of the council.” Tem gestured around the room. “We can pass on your sentiments to Her Highness.”

“It is fine, Tem,” Darrow said, his voice dripping with venom as he stared at Bri. “They will not be staying long. We do not need the help of foreigners.”

The word grated against her skin. She knew the councilor’s warning for what it was—Bri didn’t belong in the West. Her mother may have birthed her in the Western Court, but apparently that didn’t make her a Westerner, despite her mother’s efforts to make it so. She’d been raised as if she were a Western Princess. Her overbearing mother trained her far more vigorously in the art of royal life than Talhan was trained with a sword. With her short hair and muscular frame, and by favoring tunics and fighting leathers over dresses and ribbons, Bri was nothing like the person her mother wanted her to be.

“We will discuss your business over breakfast tomorrow, then,” Tem said, subduing both parties with an easy, practiced grace. He took a step toward his father and rested a hand on his shoulder.

Darrow’s eyes closed and he nodded. “You can prepare for your departure in the morning.” He waved his hand, dismissing them.

“Fine,” Bri gritted out. She turned and left without a departing bow. If they weren’t going to show her a modicum of respect, she would follow their example.

“You still think this is a good idea?” Carys muttered, hastening after her as they sped down the hallway.

“It was never a good idea,” Bri grumbled. “But we’re doing it anyway.”

“Where are we going?” Carys asked without breaking stride as Bri moved in the opposite direction from which they had first come.

Bri clenched her fists by her side. “To find Delta.”

Chapter Three

Carys frowned at the black fabric billowing into the hallway. “I had a dream that someone strangled me with one of those things.”

“Remind me to tell you about the Temple of Hunasht in the Northern Court. These bodies—”

“Nope, don’t want to know,” Carys cut her off. “Remy already told me what you told her, and that version of the story has already haunted my dreams. I don’t need the Bri version.”

A servant had pointed them to Delta’s suite, not far from the Queen’s own. They reached the door at the end of the murky hall. Bri lifted a hand to bang on it, but before her knuckles touched the wood, a mousy fae opened the door. Her dark brown hair framed her tapered ears as she stared up at them from wide doe eyes.