I bathe and wash the grime of the prison off me. Despite how frequently I visit the cells beneath the palace, I never get used to the way they make my skin crawl afterwards, even as someone who can still access the aether while down there. I can’t imagine what it’s like for those who lose their power completely to the nulling effects. Walking to my closet, I select a deep plum gown with long bell sleeves and a high slit. I leave my hair in loose waves around my shoulders. Opting to keep up appearances with the Witch Queen makeup, I line my eyes and paint my lips once again, trying and failing to keep my mind from wandering where it absolutely should not wander.

It’s been three days since the meeting with the Velmaran entourage, and I can’t stop thinking about Prince Hawthorne. Every time I remember his winks and smiles, I’m irritated all over again. I can’t seem to reconcile his reputation as the entitled and always-drunk Shining Prince with the dauntless and handsome male I encountered in the throne room. Irritating smiles aside, he’s not what I expected. The power he displayed when he was truly angry impressed me—he’s undoubtedly the most powerful fae I’ve ever met, potentially second in power to only me. And even though his plans were artless, the political maneuvering he showed was expert. I’ve gone over our meeting in my mind a hundred times, trying to determine his motivations and whether he’s genuine in his desire to build an alliance behind his father’s back. Is that even possible?

If he is his father’s lackey and this is all a ruse, he’s playing it well. And if he’s not—well, I don’t know what that means. A potential alliance with Prince Hawthorne could change everything for my people. Regardless, I can’t turn down the opportunity to infiltrate the Sons and Daughters without my Council’s—and the potential mole’s—knowledge. I’m playing a dangerous game, opening up to the Prince and his advisors even this small amount. They’ll certainly uncover information about the declining thayar, and if Mazus didn’t already know, he will soon. I sigh and rub my temples as I lean my forehead against the mirror in my closet. I’m juggling too many things—the rebels, the mole, and now whatever this alliance with the Velmaran entourage is. I wish Nemesia were here to help me sort through this mess.