Page 140 of Across an Endless Sea

Like everyone else, he barely makes contact with my skin. I’m not sure if it’s respect that keeps the gesture short, or the threatening aura of my four Guards glaring at every single person who comes within two feet of me. Probably the latter, given that I’ve just pretty much ignored the poor male.

“Heavy thoughts?” Jaro asks, from his place on my right.

I don’t have a chance to reply because the next fae is already approaching. The Spring Court ambassador is a selkie female in gilded robes—and the only under fae ambassador. Her grey-brown fur is wrapped around her shoulders, secured in place with lengths of chain that crisscross over her breasts. Kitarni already briefed me on all of the ambassadors, and I know Lady Neila is an accomplished warrior and rumoured to be one of Queen Aiyana’s many lovers.

“Nicnevin.” She bows deeply.

I lift my hand from the sword across my lap and extend it to her. “Ambassador Neila.”

“My Queen bids me to wish you a safe journey to her city,” the selkie says, dropping the softest of kisses to my skin. “She awaits you with all the hospitality our court can provide.”

“I look forward to meeting her,” I reply, offering a small smile. “I’ve heard wonderful stories about Pavellen.”

The ambassador nods but doesn’t linger, offering a second bow before disappearing back into the dancing crowd.

That wasn’t so bad, and I perk up a little, offering the next in line a more genuine smile. The Summer Court ambassador, Somin, sweeps before me and bows just as deeply—if not more so.

Is he shaking?My smile slips just a little bit.

“My lady Nicnevin, I bring a gift from King Eero,” he announces, his voice barely a mumble. The quietness of his speech is completely at odds with the flamboyant bright silk the high fae is wearing, and I see the reason for his reticence as he jerks his head at a waiting page.

“My king bid me convey his congratulations,” Somin blurts, as the leshy behind him presents a cushion with something… mangled on it. “He thought you would appreciate a souvenir of your first visit to his great city.”

The page hands the cushion to Bree—not Jaro—and that’s the first thing that gets my hackles up.

“What is it?” I ask.

Bree’s face is stony as he turns it towards me.

The scorched and twisted metal is covered in dust, and the flower engraved in the middle is almost unrecognisable, but the words on it have been polished to a gleam.

Not that I can read them. Of course, I don’t have to. There’s only one place the sign could’ve come from.

The Toxic Orchid.

Eero sent me the sign from the brothel that held Bree prisoner.

For what purpose? As a threat? A taunt? Judging by the way my Guard has stiffened, they must have interpreted it as such. The ambassador rushes forwards, drops a kiss to my hand, and then bows again, scurrying away before any of us can say anything.

“Get rid of it,” I whisper, just loud enough for Bree to hear. “Have it destroyed.”

I have no idea what Eero is trying to accomplish, but I’m not playing those games.

A light cough interrupts me before I can say anything or reassure Bree, who looks shaken. Turning to face the newcomer, I recognise her as the dignitary from the autumn court, Augusta. Kitarni briefed me on her, too. She’s a niece of Queen Cressida—albeit apparently not one of her favourites—and has served as ambassador for a good three centuries or more.

“Nicnevin,” she bows, but it’s a shallow gesture.

Not unexpected. The unseelie have all been slightly more reluctant to bow than their seelie counterparts. Maeve explained that they’ll wait for me to earn their respect before they bow properly. Until then, they’ll do the bare minimum so as not to upset me.

“Ambassador Augusta.” I nod in return. “It was good of you to attend the ceremony.”

“I shall report back on it to my queen,” she replies. “Along with the absence of your mating.”

Ouch. No holds barred. I glance at the crowd, searching for my guides. Titania might be able to help me with this. Only it’s not Titania who catches my eye first. Maeve winks and starts walking straight through the gathered people—not even pretending to dodge—and I let out a sigh of relief.

The few other fae who’ve mentioned the lack of a mating ceremony have been slyer, dancing around the topic looking for hints. Augusta apparently doesn’t believe in that kind of subtlety.

“Just because the ceremonies are traditionally joined doesn’t mean it’s required,” I reply evenly, trying not to let her see just how much she’s ruffled my feathers.

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