Page 92 of The Crown of a Fallen Queen
I answer with a solemn nod. “Yes. But check with me before you ask.”
Chapter 28
Dreyah
DEVI
Alaric leads me to the second-floor entrance of the ballroom, where a long hallway lined with tall windows overlooks the space below. From here, we can observe the guests unnoticed, watching the gathering unfold before we step inside.
The High Fae wear dark tones, the Storm Court’s seamstresses favoring metal over gem. Women drape themselves in platinum, silver, and tungsten necklaces, cuffs, and rings. Smooth metal polished to a ruthless gleam. But none of them wear lyranthium.
Only me.
The skirts are short, with no trains, no fabric dragging across the floors. I suppose such things would be soiled within a minute in a land ruled by storms.
“It’s not very…festive,” I remark.
“It’s adreyah, a special funeral in which we are mourning the loss of the king. It’s customary in Storms for the new king to stick to the shadows until the ninth night after the old king’s death—after the provinces have celebrated their departedleader. I used to think it was out of respect for the departed—a tradition meant to keep the Chosen of the gods and his possible challengers from the spotlight while we mourned, but given the burns I suffered, I think it’s out of necessity.”
He’s probably right. “So these are the High Fae of Lightning Point?”
Alaric’s mouth tenses. “The Raynes have ruled over this citadel for centuries. I’d argue the Raynes are the only true High Fae of Lightning Point, but yes, the influential families of the province are here.”
“And where is your beloved?”
“She’s standing next to her father, Lord Grimmage.” Alaric points to the line of courtiers waiting to pay their respects to a statue of the late king.
At the base of the effigy, a giant stone bowl holds water, and the guests dip their index and middle fingers in it before touching their foreheads in reverence.
Tatiana holds the arm of an older man midway through the line in a perfect picture of courtly grace. I’m a sexy tin man to her Snow White, her glittering black gown leaving her delicate shoulders exposed. Every inch of her is composed—chin lifted, back straight, hands foldedjust soat her waist, but something dark is tucked behind her eyes.
Nathaniel walks up the line and stops to greet her, all wet and disheveled. The predatory stance of the Raven is gone, like he can turn it on and off at will. Alaric tenses beside me as his brother kisses Tatiana’s hand.
Nathaniel bows low, all charm and honey, and brushes his lips against her knuckles. Smooth bastard.
She blushes, like she wasn’t expecting the touch to land, and Alaric’s younger brother speaks with her father for a moment before he disappears into the mass of courtiers.
Alaric stiffens and guides me past the door to the top of the stairs. The onlookers gasp and elbow their companions, all eyes turning to us as we descend the regal staircase.
Storm clouds frame our entrance. The glass dome overhead is most inconvenient and must be a nightmare to maintain, but to my astonishment, there’s no rain blurring the view. As dramatic scenery goes, it beats even the mural of the Fall of the Mist King.
Goosebumps tickle my spine.
Alaric leads me to the front of the line, and we both pay our respects to the late king’s statue. Excited whispers and murmurs follow in our wake. I put on my best queen mask, holding their stares with a crafted air of superiority and mystery I mastered back at the academy.
“Look at them. They’re practically drooling over you,” Alaric notes quietly, frowning like he didn’t expect their reactions to be so intense. “When are you planning to act?”
I pat his arm in a soothing manner. “A woman needs her secrets, Your Majesty. I’ll act when the time is right. Introduce me to your court, and enjoy their envy, for now.”
Alaric’s jaw clenches, but he nods in agreement. He makes the rounds, greeting his unsuspecting guests as the eldest son of the late warden, and not the king.
None of them dares to address me directly. I’m still a criminal, still in exile—but no one dares speak out.
Tatiana and her father approach next.
“Warden, may I compliment your companion?” Lord Grimmage asks Alaric.
“You may.”
