was an old argument that had been picked up in the middle, what I’d seen and heard not enough to account for the heat of emotion in Anushka’s heart and the flash of annoyance in Alexis’ silver eyes.
“Do you love her?” The knowledge that the troll queen had recently given birth drifted into my consciousness, and I knew Anushka was deeply irritated that for all his words, the King was still bedding them both.
“I’m bonded to her,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck and nipping at her earlobe. “It’s different.”
“That is no answer.”
Alexis left off kissing her throat and raised himself up on one elbow to look her in the eye. His were nearly identical in color and shape to Tristan’s, but their expression was wholly unfamiliar. “My father chose Lamia because of her power and family. I chose you for your beauty and voice, and the delightful little things you can do with magic.”
I heard the patronizing lilt in his voice, but Anushka seemed deaf to it. “You do owe me for your early rise to the throne.”
“That’s our secret.” He held up one finger to his lips. “Besides, it was my magic you used to subdue my father and my magic that stopped his heart.”
A flicker of annoyance ran through her that Alexis refused to give credit where it was due, but it was tempered by the glee she yet felt over ending the life of the troll who’d chosen Lamia. And besides, Alexis seemed well practiced at distracting her from her thoughts.
The flush heat of desire rose in her as he pulled down the bodice of her dress, his lips brushing against the curve of one breast. My discomfort was intense – I felt like a voyeur. An interloper without the power to close my eyes or turn my head.
“You’re supposed to be in the stadium,” Anushka whispered, and I felt her reluctance to dissuade him from their lovemaking. “Everyone is here for your birthday. Even some of the fey.”
“Lamia’s doing,” he muttered. “What blasted reason is there to celebrate growing a year older? Find a way to stop the years from extracting their toll, and then I’ll have cause to celebrate. That those who do not age are here to celebrate is nothing more than mockery.”
You should not be so bitter… The words rose in Anushka’s mind, but she did not speak them. The loss of immortality was fresh in this troll’s mind, and not something she dared disparage. The fey who still walked between worlds would say enough with their clever and cutting words.
“I can think of much I’d rather be doing, but I suppose it would not do to keep the masses waiting.” He kissed her again. “Besides, that which I want is currently denied to me.”
Anushka’s eyes flicked down, and I saw for the first time that she was pregnant and large enough that the child could not be far off. Dismay twisted in my gut, because in all that I had read, nothing had mentioned that Anushka had borne the King a child.
“What will we name him?” Her voice was dreamy as she twisted the all-too-familiar necklace dangling from her neck. And while she did not notice the discomforted way he looked away, I did. “You cannot know if it is a boy or girl, but either way, it will tell you what it wishes to be called in due time.”
She did not miss the it. “Alexis.” Her voice carried the weight of a hundred disagreements that had not gone in her favor.
“I must go.” He rose to his feet, but got no further before a deafening crack shattered the air. Pain lanced through Anushka’s skull, and she clapped her hands against her ears and screamed.
I screamed too, because never in my life had I heard something so loud, and I knew what it heralded. I knew what was coming.
The ground shuddered and her face jerked toward the massive peak looming above. Half of it was sliding away from the rest, breaking and crumbling, falling faster and faster, and the roar was that of the world being sundered in two.
“Anushka!” Alexis caught her up against his chest and flung a hand up. The mountain slid across the sky like a wave of rock and death, and then there was no more sun. And for some, there never would be again.
FIFTY-SEVEN
CÉCILE
My heart fluttered in my chest like that of a wounded rabbit, and my hands pressed against my ears from the memory of the