“I was in Saxbridge,” he said, leaning his elbows on his knees.

“Why?”

He huffed, looking down at his bare feet. “You’re going to think I’m really petty.”

“Clearly you haven’t met my mother.”

“I’ve heard plenty about her.” Tem chuckled, rising from his chair again and walking over to the mantle. “Lady Catullus is famous around these parts.”

Bri ground her teeth. She wasn’t the least bit surprised. Her mother probably fueled half the gossip in Swifthill, her spies spreading rumors far and wide.

Tem turned the wooden dial on his intricately carved cigar box and the lid popped open. He pulled one out and looked at Bri. “Do you smoke?”

She crossed her arms. “Not like that.”

He grinned and put the second cigar back down, shutting the lid with a click. He snipped the end and leaned into the candle flame, twirling the cigar as he puffed on it.

“Your necklace, what is the symbol?” she asked, nodding to the silver chain that dipped below his neckline.

“A wolf paw,” he said. “The wolf is part of the Wystron family crest.”

“Of course it is.” He was so slick and mannered, exactly like the courtiers she had grown up with in the East. The high-class fae trained their children to be lyrical in their movements and words, equal parts poise and power. Bri’s eyes roved the room and landed on the shrouded windows. “So why were you in Saxbridge?”

“I was shopping for our wedding.” Smoke trailed in circles from Tem’s cigar as he gestured. “My family is close with the Southern silk merchants. My personal clothier resides there, so I was going for a fitting.”

He leaned against the mantle and crossed his legs at the ankle. Bri fought the urge to roll her eyes. Of course the richest family in Swifthill, aside from the royals themselves, would have their own personal clothiers.

“You’re right,” Bri grumbled. “That does seem petty.”

“I didn’t realize the dinner would end in tragedy.” His cheeks dimpled as he puffed on his cigar. “It pains me every day that I wasn’t here to protect Queen Thorne and my betrothed.”

Bri’s lip curled at the words “my betrothed.” From what little Bri knew of Lina, she didn’t seem to be anyone’s anything. She belonged wholly to herself.

“Do you love her?” The words flew from Bri’s mouth before she could take them back.

“More than I should, probably,” Tem replied instantly. His chuckle was tinged with sorrow as he hung his head. “It’s unrequited, I’m afraid.”

“Did Lina tell you that?”