Nemeth’s mouth twists slightly. “I did. They do not believe you’re my mate. A Fellian should never marry one of our ancient enemies.” His voice is bitter. “They called me a fool and said I was lying.”

I sit up and take his hand in mine, turning over his palm to display the bite mark tattooed there. “They said this was a lie?”

“They said it didn’t count.”

“Did you tell them about the baby?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to tell them any more than I have to. I don’t trust them, Candra. I know they’re my brothers and I know we must try to get along so we have a safe place, but I just want to grab our things and leave this place.” His expression is hard. “Tonight.”

Leave? I stare at him. “And go where?”

Nemeth shrugs. “Get supplies and return to our tower. Stay there for the rest of the seven years and wait out the goddess’s anger. Perhaps she will be appeased if we return.”

I shake my head at him. “And my sister? My people? What am I supposed to do? I can’t leave them behind. I can’t abandon them to slavery and just run off as if I don’t know what’s happening here.” I lean in. “Nemeth, is what they say about the humans true? That they’re forcing them to have sex with Fellians? The women? I can’t leave them.”

“Candra—”

“No,” I tell him firmly. “I don’t care about the war. I don’t care about who won or who lost. I want to see my sister and her children. I want to see Riza and my nurse. I want to know if my people are all right. I can’t bury my head in the sand and pretend everything is fine and go back to the tower, Nemeth.”

He sighs, the sound heavy and defeated, and sits up. His hand scrubs down his face, and he looks so, so tired. I feel guilty for pushing him, but I don’t know what else to do. “The women of Lios have been enslaved, yes. I have not heard if they are serving sexually, but they were brought here as spoils of war.”

“Well we need to free them, then.”

“How am I to do that?” Nemeth shakes his head at me. “My brother does not believe me when I say I have a human wife. They believe I should put a collar on your throat and enslave you, too. That it’s what Liosians deserve after picking a war. That it’s what they deserve because⁠—”

He cuts off abruptly, his jaw clenching.

“Because of what?” I prompt.

“Nothing,” he mutters. “I am forbidden to speak of it.”

“Forbidden by who?” When he doesn’t look me in the eye, I bend forward, trying to shove my face in his sights. “Forbidden by who, Nemeth? I’m your wife. I’m your partner. What’s going on?”

But he only shakes his head again. “I cannot say, Candra. Please leave it at that.”

I stare at him as he gets out of bed and heads across the room to pick up a book. He’s changed his clothing, I realize. Gone is the simple leather kilt, replaced by something far more ornate and gilded, a symbol of the First House slung around his neck in a thick decorative chain.

Who is this man that I married? “How can you side with them? Over slavery?”

“Do you mean, how can I condone my people for claiming women left behind by the men who came to murder us? Those women did not stop their bloodthirsty husbands when they headed off to war to kill the Fellian people. But that is acceptable because we are the enemy, yes?” Nemeth’s voice grows hard. “Candra, you are my mate and the thing I love most in this world, but your people attacked mine. Demanding that my brothers release their war prizes will not go over well. I must pick and choose my battles, and right now I am most concerned with us staying alive.”

Alive? I stare at him, uncomprehending. “You truly think they would kill you? They’re your brothers.”

His jaw clenches and he looks away. “All I know is that they did not send us food. They did not believe in our mating. They will not give you status amongst our people. I have done everything they asked and—” His mouth snaps shut. “No more.”

“What did they ask you to do?” I whisper.

“To spy inside the tower of course. To report back.” He rubs a hand on his jaw. “I am tired of the throne controlling my life, Candra. When I say they cannot be trusted, I am not overreacting or exaggerating. They are my brothers but…I feel as if I do not know them.”

There’s such despair in his eyes that I feel like an absolute arse for my demands. He’s trying as hard as he can to make this work. I know he is. I move forward and cup his face in my hands.

“All I have is you,” Nemeth says, voice hoarse. “You may think I have my home and my family, but my home is you. My family is you, Candra. You’re everything, and I’m navigating this the best I can because I want nothing more than to keep you safe.”

I reach up and stroke his horns, because I know they’re sensitive. It’s the touch of a lover, one that I hope distracts him a little from the worries he carries. “I love you, Nemeth. We’re a team. And if it takes me wearing a collar in order to talk to your brothers, then that is what I shall do. It’s a trinket. It means nothing to me.”

Nemeth doesn’t look reassured, though. If anything, he looks more worried.

Chapter

Seventy-Six

The king calls for Nemeth the next day…and for him to bring me.

The missive comes to Nemeth’s door, delivered in an ornate parchment sealed with wax. I watch over the ledge as Nemeth takes the note from the small box by the door and frowns deeply as he reads it. “Ivornath,” he growls. “I should have known.”

“Is this bad?” I ask. “Didn’t you see Ivornath yesterday?”

He shakes his head. “I visited Ajaxi. Ivornath refused to see me.”

Well that makes me nervous. Still, I’d wanted to see Ivornath, hadn’t I? This is my chance. I’m good at court games, at wheedling and ingratiating myself. At flirting and making someone feel appreciated. I’m confident I can handle Ivornath. A little flattery, a little awe tossed his way, and then when he sees I’m nothing to be frightened of, we pitch for my sister’s freedom, along with Riza and everyone else.

He just needs a bit of ass-kissing, I suspect. Even Lionel wasn’t immune when I turned on the charm.

I can handle this. Nemeth might be his brother, but he’s said before that he’s not a diplomat. “Perfect,” I tell Nemeth. “Show me what we have to wear.”

A few hours later, my hair is pulled back into an elaborate rope braid decked with golden chains and anchored over one shoulder, my eyes rimmed with a bit of green cosmetic to show off their color. My bruises are covered with a pale powder, and my new dress is courtesy of the trunk of clothing (along with the cosmetics) that were brought in by Fellian servants.

It’s proof that Nemeth has some pull around here, at least, no matter what he thinks.

The Fellian clothing for women is a little different than what I’m used to. There are no tight decorative sleeves, no ornate belts to show off the curve of the hips. Instead, the dress is a sack of glossy, flowing material with a square neck and no sleeves. Instead, there are two thin ties that can be fastened over the neck, leaving the back bare for wings. A quick look in the mirror shows me that I look short and dumpy in the long dress. It’s not a flattering look, but it hides my belly well thanks to my large breasts. It’s not a very warm outfit for the cold under-mountain, more proof that Fellians run hotter than humans. Luckily for me, Nemeth takes pity on my shivering and gives me a thick, woolly wrap for my shoulders that is covered with his family symbol.

A thick plain metal collar is fastened around my neck, and I decide I hate it.

Nemeth is dressed finely, too. I’m struck again how handsome he is. He puts on a jewel breastplate of hammered metal, the sigil of the First House displayed across the front and held onto his shoulders and waist by straps of thick leather so as to avoid his wings. His kilt is heavily gilded as well, and a heavy ceremonial hammer is hung at his waist—the ancient symbol of the First House and the symbol of the weapon Ravendor Vestalin used to smite her Fellian husband.