The room is sickeningly gilded, nearly every surface shining with some kind of gold plating or other adornment. There are no windows, making me feel even more confined. A small rectangular table commands the middle of the room, only three people sitting at it. My father sits at the head, his presence imposing even when he isn’t crowned or wearing his regalia. He’s dressed rather informally, though his tunic is still embroidered with gold and purple thread, intricate suns adorning the shoulders and sleeves.

On his left and right are his two closest advisors, Citus and Gloxynia. Both are ancient fae with graying hair who are probably even older than my father, though no one can say for certain. Gloxynia’s beady eyes stare me down, lips pursed in a permanent soured expression, and I bristle under her gaze. My eyes shift to Citus, hoping to find something in his expression that tells me what this meeting is about. His blue eyes, milky with age, give nothing away. Unlike Gloxynia, Citus is wrinkled and looks like he may crumble into dust at any moment. With a hunched back and frail limbs, palace courtiers often joke that he was alive when the aether was created millennia ago. They may not be far off.

My father notices me and scowls. “Sit.” Always trying to get under his skin, I approach a beverage cart in the corner instead and pour myself a mug of steaming tea, adding in a generous splash of whiskey. The mug is solid gold, giving it a heft that’s impractical for its actual use and requires magic to prevent burns from the heated metal. Just another way the Velmaran court is designed to place power at the center of everything it does. Without thayar elixir to enhance their magical ability, many nobles would be unable to use the mug.

My father lets out a long-suffering sigh. “It is seven in the morning, Hawthorne, and you are already drinking.” I add another splash of whiskey because I can, slowly stirring the steaming liquid while I feel my father’s eyes on my back. With a smirk, I leisurely make my way to the table and sit.

“So,” I say, slouching in my chair, “what has led you to call me here at such an ungodly hour? I’ve barely even gone to bed after my nighttime activities.” I wink and revel at the way it makes him clench his jaw. I actually went to bed early last night and feel perfectly rested, but he’ll get strategically placed rumors later today reporting that I was seen buying out the city’s most illustrious brothel. Whatever it takes to keep him underestimating me. “Going to betroth me to another female? Already have the next one lined up in case Silene has an untimely end like dear old mother?”