Major Stone and the others would be demolished before they stepped a foot over the palace threshold. They were ill-equipped to fight up against the fae despite the battles they’d won in the past.

Aven ducked her head as she peeled off her day dress. Slowly, she lowered herself into the heated bathwater and flipped off the faucet, sinking low until she was submerged up to her chin.

She refused to have any more of their blood on her hands.

She lifted said hands out of the water and stared at her palms, her calluses back in place thanks to her daily training. Hadn’t she spilled enough already?

And what did it mean for her to have saved the young fae the other night? Major Stone would consider her differently if he knew.

Guilt lifted to mingle with worry until soon it became impossible to focus on the small spark of hope the note had given her. Saving a fae grunt’s life only meant another body to stand against her men when,if, they arrived.

They’d used magic to get her this message, but with so many eyes on her, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to do the same without raising an alarm. Everyone in these walls scrutinized her constantly.

Even Nora, who seemed cheerful and charming, remained with Aven through the majority of the day when the princes weren’t available. The only time she had alone was at night when she needed to sleep. And even then, Roran?—

No, she mustn’t think about him.

She hurried to scrub the floral-scented soap along her skin like it might somehow wash away the guilt. Nothing, she knew, would make any difference until she managed to get herself under control.

Aven lathered soap into her hair and ducked beneath the water to rinse. Holding her breath, she let the bubbles fade away although her mind continued to race a million miles an hour. There would be no relaxing now.

Especially when she had to make it through another dinner with Cillian where, no doubt, Roran would be somewhere lurking in the shadows. Watching her only to come back later to taunt her with everything she’d said and done.

Would Cillian make an attempt to repeat his kiss from two days ago?

She wondered, doubted, and… hoped. Then, frustrated with herself, she let the water drain out of the bath and walked out to face Nora dressed only in a towel.

For dinner, she chose a sky-blue tunic and a soft pair of pants that flattered her shape. Nora had lined her eyes in black, a slightly heavier aesthetic than she did for normal dinners. When Aven asked her why, she only smiled coyly and moved on to braid her hair.

Nora wove small flowers they’d picked during the day through the strands and sent Aven on her way within the hour. Beauty had never been something she cared about before. Regardless, when she saw herself in the mirror, she hadn’t been able to look away. Not when a woman stared back at her rather than the warrior she was used to seeing.

Aven never considered herself ugly in the past.

She’d always been practical. Focused on the things in front of her rather than nebulous things like makeup, love matches… feminine, soft things.

But now, staring at her reflection, she didn’t see herself. She saw Maeve, Geleis, Iona—her long-dead mother too—all of them more elegant, more fitting for this moment than she would ever be.

She almost laughed at the absurdity of it all but bit down on her lip instead, letting Nora’s glowing compliments wash over her, though they felt like a cruel reminder of what she’d lost.

The two of them walked down the oddly empty hallways toward the dining parlor. The windows were thrown open to the night, and a breeze brought with it lilacs, jasmine, and green growing things.

Cillian met her at the doorway to the parlor with a curt bow at the waist. “You look gorgeous tonight,” he murmured.

“I didn’t realize we were having a special dinner. Is something going on?” she asked in an attempt to prod him into an answer.

Cillian only smiled and held out his arm for her.

“Is it another picnic?” She wasn’t sure she could handle another surprise. Not tonight.

Nora handed Aven off from her company to Cillian’s and disappeared silently down the halls. The doorway opened up into a night of color and sound, music coming from somewhere in the distance.

“A walk,” Cillian clarified kindly, “and I thought it might be nice for us to have some entertainment with our dinner.”

“I certainly don’t need any. There’s no need for you to keep carving out time for me every morning and evening.” The less he accompanied her, the more opportunity she’d have to?—

Well… what? What would she do that might make any difference?

Except the heat from his arm seeped into her and unwound some of the tension in her chest from finding that note. She sashayed at his side, and Cillian glanced over at her with a grin.