might undo Perispos’ acceptance of our kind.
I snapped the book shut and determined not to think of Fallen deities.
I didn’t know much about sea travel or navigation, but I could feel the pull of the wind’s might, our vessel resisting the northeasterly blasts that tried to push us off course.
Slipping out the door of our cabin, I made my way up to the quarterdeck, past sailors tugging and tying ropes, to where the stocky young captain stood stiffly at the ship’s wheel. He bowed his head as I joined him, and I returned the gesture.
Hooking a hand on the railing to keep my balance, I turned away from Volarre’s green shores to the rising sun.
“Admiring the view, Your Majesty?” the captain asked.
“Something like that,” I said, and released the railing to splay my palms at my sides. I could feel the power stirring in the depths of the elicrin stone resting against my sternum. My breaths and the wild winds became one, together, the same, and the air grew bitter and chilling.
The captain shivered as my icy gale swept over us, driving into the sails until they swelled, until we were gliding easily and speedily downwind. The icy wind laced over my scalp. My golden hair blinded me as it thrashed like the Volarian flags fixed to the masts.
When the wind fell still, the sailors stared at me, huddling into their coats. I heaved out one last sigh. When I turned, we could no longer see Volarre’s shores in the distance.
“Fetch me if you need further assistance,” I said, and strode back to the passage leading belowdecks.
FIVE
KADRI
BEYRIAN, YORTH
AN hour before the other Realm Alliance leaders would arrive, I donned a leaf-green skirt with a matching midriff-baring bodice and bundled my black hair into a high knot. I set my emerald-studded crown on my head and felt silly somehow, like a child playing dress-up—or maybe that feeling resulted from the elicrin stone hiding beneath my collar.
I descended to the veranda and surveyed the table set for seven. A bittersweet mood swept over me. On the one hand, the lingering sense of victory was empowering. We had survived. We had conquered. We had begun rebuilding.
On the other, the road to recovery seemed littered with stumbling blocks.
I realized I was gripping the back of a chair so tightly that my palms had begun to sweat. Releasing it, I turned to cross back through the banquet hall so I could greet the guests as they arrived.
But I halted after only one step, my heart bobbing into my throat like a buoy that had been shoved underwater.
A guest I did not expect stood before me like an apparition, escorted by the head maid, whose mouth hung ajar as she took in the fay’s willowy form and tapered ears.
“Rynna,” I breathed.
She looked different. Instead of sage green, her eyes gleamed deep lavender blue, reminding me of my secret stone. Rather than fawn colored and traced with green veins, as I recalled in my fond imaginings, her skin shone golden. Freckles splashed across her nose and cheeks, matching the rich tawny of her hair. Straying far from her forest home seemed to have caused her adaptive features to undergo their seasonal change from spring to summer early.
“I’m sorry to come unannounced—” she started, but I rounded the table and trapped her in my arms, shaking with disbelief. She laughed near my ear and returned the embrace. “I hoped you would be glad to see me.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked, putting enough distance between us to peer at her face, but not enough to lose the fragrance of sunshine on grass and heady tree sap. She smelled like Wenryn.
“I have business to bring before the Realm Alliance.”
“What sort?” I asked, surprised that she would want anything to do with the Realm Alliance. The ancient fay lived in seclusion and secrecy. I hadn’t even known they still existed until they sought out our small troupe in the forest.
“The urgent sort,” she answered. “And when I share it, we’ll be able to talk of nothing else. So, why don’t you show me the shore and tell me how queenship is treating you while we wait for the others to arrive?”
I resisted the urge to interrogate her, seeing as these moments might be the only pleasant ones we shared.
“I’ll set another place,” the head maid said before ducking her head and scurrying away. With a crooked smile, I recalled how unsettling our group had found the presence of the