enough strength I felt it in the back of my throat.
Indigo raised one judgmental eyebrow at me.
“I’ll just go back to my room for a snack,” I said.
“Would you like tea?”
“No, thank you.”
Indigo put her fists on her hips. “If I bring you a water bottle and a bag of peas or something, will you eat it?”
“If they’re unopened, yes.”
Indigo nodded, making the bun of her thick hair bob. “Fine. I’ll go get you something—and risk angering the chef further. I’ll bring it up to your room.” She marched off, her shoulders stiff with resolve.
“Thank you, Indigo!”
She waved, and slipped through the same door Lord Linus had.
I smiled fondly and climbed the first step of the stairs. I glanced around the room once more, freezing when I noticed something at the edge of the room.
My brain didn’t have enough time to identify Lord Rigel, the Wraith, before he stepped out of the shadow cast by the staircase.
His eyes, black and soulless, were trained on me. Today he wasn’t wearing his fancy jacket or scarf, and I could see his annoying aristocratic features including a long, perfect nose, high cheek bones, and a strong jaw.
I didn’t see any weapons on him—but he still wore leather bracers over his long sleeved, charcoal gray shirt.
Hopefully that meant he wasn’t here to kill me?
My nerves sloshed unhelpfully around my stomach as he approached me.
He stopped about ten feet away and didn’t bow or incline his head to me unlike every other fae I’d met. Instead he looked me over from head to toe. “No screaming today?” he asked in a voice that was simultaneously rich and almost smoky.
I shrugged—or I tried to shrug. It took a second attempt to make my shoulders move. “You’re not the scariest thing in the mansion.” I was impressed with myself because my voice didn’t shake.
The Wraith nodded. “You’re right.” He glanced at the door Indigo and Lord Linus had disappeared through and showed no inclination to move.
“Do you make it a habit to just lurk in the shadows, or is that part of your aesthetic?” I blurted out, my nerves removing the filter between my brain and my mouth.
He shifted his gaze back to me, and I deeply regretted speaking. “Call it an occupational hazard.”
I waited, but he didn’t leave. “Are you here to try killing me again?” I boldly asked.
The Wraith blinked. “You are my queen. I cannot raise a hand against you.”
“That doesn’t mean you won’t attempt it,” I said. “Why are you here?” I asked.
The silenced stretched just long enough to make me start to sweat before the Wraith answered. “Curiosity.”
I think his honesty is the most terrifying thing about him, I realized. All the other fae feel like they have to thinly veil their hatred. But the Wraith is so powerful, he doesn’t care what I know.
I cleared my throat. “Curiosity about…?”
He stared at me.
“It’s a legitimate question,” I said. “There’s a lot for you to be curious about. In fact, I wish there was less for you to be curious about.”
He turned away. “I’ll see you again, Queen Leila.”
“I’d rather not,” I grumbled.
He must have heard me because he turned to look back at me, his eyes extra dark and soulless.
I’ll admit it. I was weak.
I leaned against the stair railing when I could feel that I was teetering a little under his gaze, but I refused to fully give in to my fear, so I gave him the most obnoxious, joyful wave that I could, nearly dislocating my arm in my fake enthusiasm.
The Wraith blinked, then glided out of the room with an unnatural soundlessness.
I felt all the air leave my lungs with a collective exhale, then plopped down on the stair.
That was terrifying. And just think, I have all of this and more to look forward to for the rest of my life.
I shook my head, dislodging the pessimistic thought from my mind. “That’s not a help,” I muttered to myself, needing to hear the words out loud.
I stood up and brushed my dress off, then made myself climb the stairs and head back to my bedroom to wait for Indigo.
I wasn’t going to be beaten. Not by my Court, not by the Wraith, and not by myself.
Chapter Eleven
Leila
“And who is this?” Skye flipped her tablet around, displaying a picture of the beautiful blond fae who’d made the outcry when the Court first saw me.
“Lady Chrysanthe.” I rested my hands on the delicate wooden table I was seated at, feeling a