was savvy enough to know what was happening, but he kept the questioning benign after that, falling into an easy conversation with Bell over trade tariffs during their course of shellfish stew. When Renk was brought up, the king navigated away from the tricky subject with an ease only an experienced ruler could manage.
Neri was curious about the magickal tournament in Solethenia, and Bell was more than happy to regale the table with tales of the trials and infamous Sun Court.
Unsurprisingly, he left out the part about the end when the old Sun Sovereign had Haven imprisoned and then Archeron tried to kill her.
It was a strange dance, watching everyone tell stories while skirting around certain topics, of which there seemed no end.
Still, despite the abundance of wine and conversation, Haven could feel the king growing restless.
Once the desserts were handed out—a rich, glazed custard topped with raspberries inside gilded clam shells—Haven knew she couldn’t put off his questions any longer. “I apologize if I didn’t seem forthcoming earlier,” she began, stirring her spoon inside her custard. “My past has a few . . . unpleasant memories.”
Eros was quiet for a moment. When his eyes met hers, they were almost kind. “I, too, have memories I would rather not revisit. But I have to know who I am allying with.”
“The Goddess-Born of prophecy,” Xandrian answered, casually swirling a finger around the rim of his wine glass. Up until now he’d been content picking at his food and making it abundantly clear how lacking he found everything.
Everything but the wine, apparently.
“And I should just . . . take your word for it?” King Eros arched a thick brow at the Sun Lord, his saccharine smile doing little to mask his sarcasm.
“Yes.” Xandrian took a bite of his custard, dabbed his mouth with a seafoam green napkin, and met the king’s stare. “Have you heard of the Order of Soltari?” The way the king stilled, he had. “We’ve been searching for Freya’s daughter for years. Scouring every Goddess-forsaken mortal city, risking torture and death in the process, and I can tell you, unequivocally, the female sitting to your right is her.”
The king’s eyes narrowed as they took Haven in once more. This time, there was no flicker of kindness, only the shrewd intelligence that had gotten him this far.
“She is beautiful, and there is no question of the power inside her. Even I can feel it crackling off her skin like the air right before a storm. It’s an intoxicating combination, looks and power. Unfortunately, beneath those curves, she is still very much mortal. So if that is all you have to offer, a beautiful female who possesses rare magick and can fill out a dress, I am afraid it’s not enough to risk the safety of my kingdom and family.”
Frustration swept over Haven. And then, perhaps because she was tired of being spoken about like she wasn’t there, or of being assessed and prodded like an oddity, she fixed her gaze on the king until he met her seething stare. “Who said I agreed to the alliance? I have yet to be convinced by you, mortal king. Or did you think a nice custard inside a shell and an expensive bottle of wine was enough to win over the daughter of Freya?”
He straightened, that handsome face twisting a little in shock as he blinked at her, his lips parting as he prepared a response—
“I’m not done,” she snapped. “I’ve seen rulers more powerful than you come and go. I’ve personally helped vanquish some of them, including the Shade Queen not once, but twice. So, while I suppose I enjoy being ogled and flattered as much as the next girl, if you think calling me ‘beautiful’ is all it takes for me to choose to ally with you, you’re just as dim as all the other mortal kings that came before you, and you’ll last just as long.”
The silence that followed made it hard to breathe, but Haven felt . . . better. Remarkably so.
King Eros cleared his throat, pushed gently back in his chair, and stood. Then he turned and left without a word, his soft footfalls echoing off the walls.
The others stood, and Haven did the same, her chest constricting. She meant every word she said, and yet . . . all her hopes had been riding on this alliance. On Eros being different than other mortal kings.
“Was it the attack on his wine?” Stolas purred, sliding his lethally calm