I look very rich and very garish, which I think is the point. Gazing into the mirror, I run my pinky along a pot of lip tint and rub it onto my mouth as Nemeth comes to stand behind me. “Well?” I ask, putting the finishing touches on the cosmetic. “Do I look fit to see a king?”

“You always look like a dream to me,” he confesses, taking my jewel-encrusted braid in his hand and rubbing his finger along it. “You grow more beautiful every day.”

“My beauty isn’t the question,” I tease, keeping my voice light even as my heart aches. “It’s whether or not I will impress your brother. He’s been so difficult to reach I worry we won’t have another chance.”

“I just hope he’s finally willing to be reasonable,” Nemeth says. He gently sets my braid back on my shoulder and gives me a thoughtful look. “I’ve thought about what you said. About leaving. If it comes to that, then we will go. But while there is food and safety here, we must give Ivornath a chance.”

“Safety?” I wipe my fingers on a towel. How can he speak of safety when there’s a plague here? I’m about to blurt that out when I remember I’m not supposed to know there’s a plague. Dragon shite. “Do you, ah, feel we’re safe here? Even though this place feels wrong to you?”

Nemeth shrugs, his wings shifting. “There is food and protection from the storms. For now, that counts as safety.”

I’m not so sure I agree. Not if there’s a plague striking Fellians down. “Well, I’m ready. Shall we go?”

“We should cover our mouths,” Nemeth says, handing me a length of cloth. “King’s orders.”

“Any particular reason why?”

“Ivornath can be eccentric.”

Oh come on. And he still won’t tell me there’s a plague? I give him a disappointed look but manage a smile anyhow. “Well. Shall we do my potion before we leave?”

A short time later, my pulse is singing thanks to the infusion of Nemeth’s blood, and I’m feeling good enough that despite the wooziness that a quick teleport imparts, I recover quickly. We appear at the front gates as we did before, but this time, instead of the guards directing me to the gardens, they cover their faces and step away, eyeing me with distaste.

“My, how odd,” I exclaim to my traitorous mate, even as I cling to his arm. “They act as if we’re sick.”

Nemeth stiffens, but then pulls me closer. “You’re safe, Candra. Rest assured that you’re safe.”

I bite my lip, hating that he’s giving me more non-answers.

The large, jewel-encrusted doors of the palace open on their own, letting us in. When we step inside, it’s dark and shadowy, the hall itself enormous and stretching up into the shadows as far as the eye can see. A few magical globes shed light, but I can’t see enough to make out much of my surroundings. It echoes in here, our footsteps loud with every step forward. There’s a set of stairs tucked along one wall, which I find curious, but we pass them quickly and head deeper inside. Shadowy shapes lurk at the edges of the darkness. I’m pretty sure they’re statues, but it’s unnerving anyhow. “Just so you know, I hate that it’s dark in here.”

Nemeth chuckles. “There is not much to see other than the posturing of my relatives. Each king has made himself a very grand statue, including my brother.”

“Charming.”

“Indeed.” He leans in as if sharing a secret. “I’m told most of the ancestors gave themselves extremely prominent portions of anatomy so no one would doubt the virility of First House. I grew up hating to visit this hall, because I always felt inadequate.”

I stifle a giggle, burying my face against his arm. “If it makes you feel any better, I did not find you inadequate in the slightest.”

His laughter rumbles through his body, and I ache with how much I adore him in moments like this. If we’d never left the tower, I’d still have utter faith in him. I’d still think he was madly in love with me.

We’d be dead, but I’m focused on moping at the moment, not on reality. The truth is, if Nemeth has never loved me, I suppose it’s best to find out. If his idea was to turn me to his side, he’s failed. I hug his arm tightly and glance around as we head down the hall. “So where is your brother?”

“We’re meeting him in the official dining hall.”

“Shouldn’t there be servants around?” I ask, eyeing the empty, shadowy palace with a bit of unease. “The palace at Lios was always crawling with people.”

“Aye, this is unusual. But I’m told Ivornath has been retreating more and more these last months. It’s one reason why he’s been so difficult to contact.” He pats the hand I have on his arm. “Ajaxi says that it’s temporary. That most of those that have been dismissed from the palace will be reinstated again soon.”

Or not, because they’ll be dead of plague. But if he trusts Ajaxi, I guess we have to go with it. “Funny that your brother will see Ajaxi but not you.”

“They’ve always been close,” Nemeth confesses, and I hear a familiar wistfulness in his tone. “While I was being raised at the Alabaster Citadel, my brothers took their training together. I’ve always envied them for their kinship. I was more or less forgotten.”

In that, I feel a kinship to Nemeth. I was the forgotten princess, too. Because of my blood curse and my inability to bear children, I was considered useless for the Vestalin line. The focus was entirely on Erynne, and I spent my time with nurses and servants. “You’re still their brother,” I remind him. “Growing up in the citadel shouldn’t change anything.”

Even though I know it does. I just never thought about it much until I met Nemeth.

Another set of fine double doors opens, and a soft, yellow light pours into the hallway. There’s a sumptuous feast laid out on a long, cloth-colored table. The scents of delicious food waft toward us and my stomach growls. Here, there is a pair of servants pouring wine, and Ajaxi, Nemeth’s younger brother, sits at the far end of one table and holds a goblet up in a mocking salute. “Brother. I see you brought your plaything.”

“My wife,” Nemeth says in an even voice. “My mate. You will speak to her with respect, Ajaxi. She is a princess of Lios.”

“And Lios is dust,” Ajaxi continues merrily, drinking from his goblet. Some of it runs down his chin and he swipes it away with one big hand.

I look at him in disgust as Nemeth leads me toward the table. How can two Fellians look so alike and yet one be so very revolting to me? But Ajaxi seems very much like a spoiled boy. He wears similar clothing to Nemeth’s but his are festooned with chains and fobs across one shoulder—medals of some kind for battle. He slouches in his chair and the heaviness of his eyelids suggests he’s been drinking for a while.

As we approach, he smirks in my direction and lifts his goblet, scratching at his collarbones with long claws. “Vestalin princess of nothing, greetings.”

Turd. I manage a tight smile as Nemeth pulls out a seat for me. “Where is the king? We’re here to see him, not you.”

“Ivornath will be along shortly,” Ajaxi says, shaking his goblet at one of the servants. The woman—a Fellian—hurries forward with the pitcher and pours him a fresh glass, the lower half of her face covered with a veil like mine. Ajaxi wears no face wrap, though, and I unwind mine, gazing at the delicious food. Stewed, spiced mushrooms. Braised fish from the harbor. Fresh fruit and nuts. A sinful amount of olives and dates. Pickled eggs. Three kinds of bread. My mouth waters at the sight.

“Ah ah,” Ajaxi says as I touch my scarf. “Keep the human covered. They’re filthy things.”

“We’re here for dinner,” I reply sweetly, though it takes everything I have not to snarl at him. “One cannot eat when one’s mouth is covered.”

He snorts and chugs more wine, scratching at his neck.

I decide I’m going to charm Ajaxi so it hurts more when he’s betrayed. I give him my most coquettish smile and slide a hand over my braid, tugging it toward my cleavage. His gaze goes there automatically and I lean forward. “You must be very close to your brother the king for him to trust you with so much.”