I imagine her glowing like starlight when I make her come.

You’re staring, she murmurs.

You’re letting me, I say back.

Her mismatched eyes flare. Does she like it? Does she hate it? She’s not looking away.

I grip the courtier’s hips harder, driving deeper. The demigoddess moans, but I barely hear her. Suddenly she’s the best fuck I’ve had in a while, because I’m picturing Zephyr writhing against me. Zephyr’s ragged breaths in my ear. Zephyr’s pretty noises.

When I come, I make damn sure she sees my face and watches me spill with her name burning in my throat.

I want her to know.

Let her chalk this unforgivable slip in control up to the fever. Let her believe it’s only the mindless sex, the madness of Aethertide that pushes even kings to their knees, and not the truth that’s been eating me alive since before she built those walls around her mind.

I let her believe the biggest lie I’ve ever told.

The courtier slumps forward against my chest. I hitch my hips up and ease her off me, ignoring her moan of protest as I set her carefully on her feet. Her pupils are blown wide. Blood still pours from the ragged wound in her neck, soaking the tops of her breasts. There’s something vacant in her expression. Something I put there.

“Get yourself to a healer,” I tell her. It’s as close to gentle as I know how to be. “Take the rest of the day to recuperate. You’ve earned it.”

She bobs an unsteady curtsy and mumbles words that might be yes, my king, or thank you, my king.

Once Zephyr and I are alone, I allow my shoulders to slump. The lightning that’s been dancing along my skin all day fades to sparks.

“Go on, then,” I say roughly. “Don’t leave me in suspense. You didn’t come here to watch me fuck.”

Her lips tighten. For a moment, I think she might actually say something about what just happened between us.

She doesn’t.

“Missing demis.” Zephyr’s all business now. “I have confirmed disappearances in Nyholm aside from our own here in Asteria. Wraith is trying to manage the situation.”

I scrape my palm down my face. “Wonderful. So the fleshtrade is slipping through wards all along the Shroud.”

“They say the king’s secrets say something about the king.” Zephyr folds her arms across her chest.

“Then they say I’m falling apart, don’t they, Whisper?” I give her a bleak smile. “There’s still time to turn this to our advantage. After I killed Calder, Severin wasn’t exactly feeling charitable. He only agreed to peace with Vartena if I took on the Shroud and the Claimed alone.”

“You punched him in the face, Storm.”

“He touched what wasn’t his to touch,” I remind her. “I wasn’t concerned with pleasantries. But the cracks in the veil make my position clear.”

It galls me to admit to weakness, but Zephyr’s seen me at my lowest. If I can’t be honest with her, who’s left?

Her eyes sharpen, that keen strategist’s brain working. “You think this crisis will bring Wraith back to negotiate?”

“Depends on how desperate he is. Missing demis across the realm changes things. Makes for good leverage.” I pause, watching her face carefully. “Especially if I told him the truth about his brother.”

She yanks at her jacket collar like it’s suddenly too tight. “If any part of you still values what you once had with Severin, you won’t use that information. He loved his brother. It’s not something you can take back.”

I hate that damn uniform. The buttons up to her neck, sleeves hiding all of her skin. I remember her that night at the Court of Illusions—the green dress that clung to her curves, the bare shoulders I couldn’t stop staring at. Couldn’t stop touching. And she’d let me. For one night, she’d let me put my hands on her.

Now, every inch of her is hidden away. From everyone. From me.

It’s not just a uniform; it’s a wall.

“Look at me.”

She does.

“I know why Calder had to die. What I don’t know is what he did to you after the winter ball.”

Her nostrils flare slightly. “He found out what I am.”

My fingers curl into the throne’s armrests. No one knows what Zephyr is except me. She’d never be safe. Any sick fuck who wanted power would be after her.

“Whisper.” My voice goes soft, tender. Only for her. “I need to know what he did to you, sweet girl.”

The endearment slips out before I can stop it. It’s been three hundred years since I last called her that. Since Calder.

I hear her breath stutter. Her lips part.

Then she tugs on that jacket again and straightens. “What happened in the Court of Illusions stays buried with Calder,” she says flatly. “My trauma isn’t currency for your political games. Let Wraith believe whatever the fuck he wants about his brother. I won’t relive it just so you can have leverage.”

Every time I press, she builds her walls higher. Already, I can feel her mind pulling back, some of those sanded edges sharpening in defense. Telling me to back off.

So I do.

“All right. Then I need intelligence. Find out how severe the situation is with the demis in the Dark Court. I need to know what I’m dealing with before I make my move.”

Zephyr’s mouth thins, but she jerks her chin in grudging assent. “Fine. But a word of caution, if I may be so bold—”

“You may not.”

“—strong-arming Wraith strikes me as unwise.”

“Objection noted.”

For a small eternity, she just looks at me in that unflinching way she’s done for thousands of years. No doubt marking every cracked, battered piece of me. We go too far back for pretenses. She knew me before my ascension. Before death and duty broke me open and stitched me together wrong.

“Understood,” she says. “In the meantime…”

She arches a pointed brow at me. At my disheveled state. My skin is heating with another wave of rut-fever, and my cock’s already hardening.

I groan. “Don’t start.”

“You need to finish out Aethertide—uninterrupted—before doing any complex diplomacy. Get your head out of your ass. This is a shit time for politics.”

“You’re overstepping,” I say mildly.

“I’m worried.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“You’re within smiting range,” I remind her.

“Please. In your current state? I’d like to see you try.”

A rough chuckle claws its way out of me. “Bold words for the female who interrupted my other business.” I stretch my wings wide and relax against the throne, letting my thighs fall open. “Unless you’re volunteering to pick up where the other one left off?”

Zephyr’s mouth parts, a brief tell in an otherwise flawless facade. Her stare snags on my bare skin, trailing over my tattoos to my hard cock. Aethertide might not slam into the females as viciously, but she’s not immune. And as far as I know, there’s no one warming her bed.

I wonder who’s ever earned that particular privilege. If she’s as wound tight in private. If she lets another male see what’s beneath that high collar.

She shakes her head. “You already know the answer to that.”

I pause, weighing my next words. Tasting their shape, their vulnerability. “It doesn’t have to change anything, Whisper. Not with us.”

Empires have risen and fallen in all the time I’ve wanted Zephyr. I waited nearly seven thousand years just to kiss her, and never again had the privilege. The first and last time was at Calder’s winter ball—and then she’d retreated behind ice and distance.

For an instant, her composure slips. “I won’t complicate my duties with intimacy, not even for celestial events. If you need release and a blood donor to find supplementary power to hold the Shroud, find it between a courtier’s thighs. They’re gagging for it.”

“I’d never feed from you, Whisper.” I give her a small smile. “What if I just wanted you this one centennial?”

Zephyr’s expression darkens. The air goes charged with tension as she closes the distance between us on silent feet, black wings flaring. The flat of her blade kisses my neck, its edge dimpling my skin.