Page 50 of Vale of Dreams

I turn from the intensity of his expression to scan the room again, and he lets his hand rest casually by my hipbone, his forearm just below my belly.

To my relief, I actually see a friendly face at the far end of the table: Nivene, my alleged sister, was apparently invited to the palace, too.

I turn my head toward Talan, whispering, “You invited my sister here.”

“I thought she belonged at court with you.”

This is brilliant. We were planning to find a way for me to invite her over, but I was hoping I planted enough hints for the prince to do it himself. And it worked.

I catch her eye and wave.

She sits with the lowliest of the guests: the rich merchants and bankers who occasionally get invited to the palace, those without a drop of aristocratic blood. She’s chatting with her neighbor, a thin man with spectacles. She waves back at me.

A guard standing by the large golden double doors slams his staff three times on the floor. The sound echoes around the room. The low murmuring in the hall fades to silence, and everyone turns to look at the doors. The only one who seems completely relaxed at this point is Talan, who lifts his goblet, signaling for a servant to bring us more mead.

The doors open, and King Auberon steps into the hall.

He does look a bit like Talan, though not half as beautiful. He has the same strong jawline and dark eyes, the same tan skin and high cheekbones, but his face is fuller, his hair lighter. Long and braided in some places, his brown hair flows over his black cloak. A platinum crown gleams on his head, and unlike Talan’s, it’s perfectly balanced.

The sight of him makes my blood run cold.

Everyone in the hall stands, as do I. While the servant refills his goblet, Talan stands last, languidly rising with a heavy sigh, as if he can’t be bothered. He slides his hand around my waist again—and given how much taller he is than me, his arm brushes just below my breasts. I glance up to see him taking a sip of his newly filled mead.

As the king marches closer, his coppery gaze cuts to me. His lip curls just slightly.

Talan’s already done with the formality of standing, and he pulls me into his lap again, arm draped below my belly. His thumb brushes over my hipbone.

“This is your new friend, Talan? I trust you examined her thoroughly before you brought her into our presence.” The king’s voice booms over the hall, and he somehow makes it sound like the filthiest double entendre.

Laughter ripples through the room, ringing out like delicate chimes, and Talan’s fingers tighten around me, as if he were actually protective of me.

The king crosses to his throne, the chair next to Talan and me. Goosebumps rise on my skin. This is probably the closest an Avalon agent has ever been to the king of the Fey.

Before sitting, Auberon grabs the back of the throne, and he cuts a sharp look at Talan. “If only Prince Lothyr could be with us tonight.”

Talan’s muscles tense as silence fills the hall, but he doesn’t show much of a reaction. He merely takes another sip from his wineglass.

Auberon rakes his gaze around the hall. “We have been at war for decades. First, we defeated the forest dwellers who tried to overthrow my rule. Now, we fight against humans and half-breeds. Our enemies are all around us. So, I demand that if you see any signs of treason, of espionage, conspiracy, or sedition, you must inform my King’s Watch immediately. Anyone caught shielding traitors or concealing secrets from the Watch…well, I don’t need to tell you about the gruesome consequences, do I?”

He pauses, allowing that to sink in, then resumes. “We are here to enjoy our feast. And I trust you know that everything I do is to protect the peace and safety of the realm. I alone can keep you safe from the human scourge that cursed our land after they tried to starve us with their manmade famine. I alone can keep your families fed. But you must trust in your king and tell my Watch what you learn. If you see the dull, deformed appearance of a demi-Fey hiding in our kingdom, turn him in. Help me protect you. Here in Brocéliande, we have no sanctuary for enemies of the Fey.”

The guests break into a round of applause, and a few people call out, “Here, here!”

I focus on breathing normally.

I can practically feel the power crackling from the king. As he sits on the throne, the rest of the guests sit as well.

The prince lifts his goblet. “His Majesty, my father, and esteemed guests. You may have noticed this jewel I have discovered.”

I steal a glance at Auberon’s expression. He is staring directly ahead, his face frozen like a statue, mouth flattened into a thin line.

He knows that Talan is about to fuck with him, doesn’t he?

Talan raises his glass higher. “I would like to raise a toast to the enchanting Nia Vaillancourt of Lauron, whom I had the fortune to meet while on a hunting trip. I have invited her to Perillos as a companion and dear friend. Truly, her wit and beauty are unmatched in Corbinelle and I daresay in all of Brocéliande. Miss Vaillancourt graces us with her beauty, and we are all the richer for it. Let us celebrate our stunning new guest at court, to whom I pledge my eternal devotion.”

Low muttering rumbles around the room, and people whisper behind their hands.

A beautiful silver-haired woman is glaring at me, her cheeks pink, lips pressed tightly together with fury. Jewels gleam from her throat and dangle from her ears. An angry flush has spread over her chest. When I see people looking her way, it doesn’t take the skill of a trained spy to know that she must be Countess Arwenna Blythe.

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