“He asked for my hand. And like a fool I turned him down, believing myself destined for something greater because of that damned prophecy. Believing I didn’t have to marry a centuries-old male who makes my skin crawl.” I will not allow fanciful dreams to kill my people for another minute. “Send the message.” The last words are firm and final, the whispering uncertainty gone from my voice. I give her a look that once upon a time she would have told me was my queen look, eyes hardened and lips pursed. Then, we would have laughed at the idea that I’d one day be a queen. Now she only nods, hesitating briefly before striding back to the tent. I hear her shouting orders to her commanders, firm and brokering no argument. Several fae leave the war tent to send out the message to hold the line and not retreat. Not yet, at least.

It was always going to lead to this. I’ve given up on the idea of fated mates and destinies. Those dreams died with my parents.

Thayarian soldiers—my soldiers—battle two and three opponents at a time while we wait for what feels like ages for a response from Mazus. They’re tired and faltering. Then, I hear it: horns blaring and the order to fall back from the Velmaran commanders echoing across the valley. The Velmaran soldiers dutifully depart, eyes on my soldiers and weapons still up as they back away from the line of fighting. The brows of my soldiers furrow in skepticism, unsure what’s brought the fighting to such an abrupt halt.

My eyes immediately find Nemesia when I walk into the war tent. Her hardened eyes and the tense shoulders of her lieutenants make my heart drop from my chest. Reaching the huddled group, I ask, “What are his terms?”

“We can’t accept them, Your Majesty,” Nemesia quickly answers. “We’re preparing a missive now with our counter proposal.”

“What are his terms?” I demand this time, using the voice laced with the aether that compels any who are less powerful than me to obey my orders. I once loved hearing my mother use this voice.

Nemesia sighs. “He wants you to meet him in his personal tent. Alone. He asks that you bring no weapons, no advisors, and no guards. It’s an outrageous demand.”

“I’ll accept.”

“But—”

“Tell him I’ll be there in an hour,” I interrupt, then turn away, unable to meet Nemesia’s eyes. I know what she’s thinking. That I can’t do this. That this is everything my parents fought for and gave their lives to prevent. But I’m not willing to sacrifice my people in a selfish pursuit of love or magic.