When Rian finally addresses me, I’m so disoriented that my head is spinning.
“Lady Sabine. Welcome to Duren. To you and your . . . friends.” He acknowledges the birds and insects in a playful tone that I’m not sure is derisory. “I see the rumors of your godkiss were not exaggerated.”
Scrambling to regain my composure, I keep my head high, though my pulse is pounding. “They were not, Lord Rian. And I suppose I’ll discover the rumors of your lack of a godkiss were also not exaggerated?”
Though I mean it as an insult, he barks a laugh and claps his hands as though I’ve delighted him.
“May I help you down?”
I hesitate at his outstretched hand. It doesn’t feel right. Basten has always been the one to help me dismount. My body is used to surrendering to his rough and steady grip as he lifts me effortlessly to the ground. For a second, my heart splits all over again, gushing and gushing from the fresh wound.
I briefly squeeze my eyes closed. I will not let them see me cry. They don’t deserve my tears.
I force a smile and say loudly, “It would be my pleasure to be handled by a gentleman after the past few weeks.”
A smile quirks Lord Rian’s lips as he glances over his shoulder at Basten. “Hear that, you beast? Of course, you did. Didn’t win any fans on the ride, did you?”
Basten merely scowls up at the sky, pretending he didn’t hear.
I take a breath before placing my hand in Lord Rian’s. His palm isn’t lined with dirt like Basten’s, but it is calloused. The goose nestled on Myst’s withers takes flight, as do the moths along my thigh that would be crushed when I dismount, but the rest of the animals remain. Rian’s strong fingers close over mine, and with controlled grace, he guides me—still bedecked in feathers and mothwings—down from the horse.
He motions to a servant at the bottom of the stairs holding a folded velvet drape. With a wry smile, he says, “I had intended to sweep in like a dashing hero and offer you a cloak to cover your body, but I see you’ve handled that yourself.” His dark eyes flash as he assesses each one of my winged friends. “You’ll soon learn that nothing travels faster than gossip in Duren. The people are already calling you the Winged Lady, and talking about how you used your godkiss to mock my rules of the ride.”
His candor is unnerving and, frankly, suspicious.
I stare him down as I challenge, “Such rules were made to be mocked.”
A secretive smile pulls at his lips. “You hate me, naturally. I expected no less. But you should know that the ride wasn’t about humiliating you, my lady. Immortal Solene professed the virtue of our natural states. Her own famous ride was meant to demonstrate the sacredness of coming into a marriage as we are, not hidden behind costuming. My wish was that you and I meet at our most basic level. Simply a man and a woman.”
Gods, this man is eloquent. He almost has me falling for his own bullshit.
“Hmm,” I purr evenly. “So then why aren’t you naked?”
His smile stretches wider, and I realize I’ve fallen into one of his traps. “So eager? Soon enough, my lady. And here I thought you were chaste.”
His eyes spark tauntingly.
“No . . . I didn’t mean . . . ” I garble.
He only grins wider.
Despite myself—despite the hell this man has just put me through—I almost appreciate his humor. Because the one goddamn thing I could use right now is someone else to laugh at the futility of my situation.
“I’ll take that cloak now,” I say stiffly, turning to the servant, who comes forward at Rian’s beckoning.
I first take a moment to gently touch each of the dozens of birds and insects who left the forest to help me on my journey.
Fly away, my friends. You have my gratitude. Thank you. Thank you.
Almost as one, the animals take wing. The cloud of flapping wings rises into the sky like a puff of chimney smoke over the spires of Sorsha Hall. Rian takes a subtle step to the right, which blocks my brief flash of nudity from the crowd’s view.
How fucking thoughtful.
The servant drapes the cloak over my shoulders, and even before I’ve fully secured it, Rian presses one hand to my back and motions to the stairs.
“Now, my lady, you have the dubious honor of meeting my family. My father couldn’t be here to receive you, but you’ll meet him later.”
He introduces me to a woman about my age, with intricately painted fey lines on her exposed skin, and her raven black hair coiled in a thick immortal crown. “This is Lady Runa Valvere, my cousin.” The painted woman gives me a smile that looks warm but feels cruel. Next, we move to a middle-aged couple drenched in exotic perfume. “This is Lord Gideon, my uncle, and his wife, Lady Solvig. And this sublime woman is my grandmother, Lady Eleonora Valvere.”
The elderly woman is dressed in a gossamer-thin toile gown with an exaggerated asymmetrical hem. His grandmother snakes out a hand and seizes mine. Is this death grip supposed to be a handshake? Her eyes are foggy with cataracts. Her ears, I’m shocked to see, have been mutilated through years of binding to come to a fae point, though the effort left them scarred, and I feel sick to my stomach that a person would suffer like that in the name of fashion.
“She can control animals? All types?” Lady Eleonora snaps. “Eh, girl, is that true?”
Something unpleasant ripples over Rian’s face as he explains in tight patience, “Yes, grandmother, I believe you missed the impressive display of her power just now, when she humiliated me by arriving with an animal entourage.”
The elderly woman grunts, nodding to herself. I wait, but there’s nothing more. I suppose that’s all I’ll get by way of welcome.
Rian then introduces me to Sorsha Hall’s head servants, their names coming at me so fast it’s a whirl. My thighs feel slack. My throat is parched. It’s all I can do to stay upright instead of slumping into an exhausted, overwhelmed puddle.
“We’d intended to hold an engagement ball tonight, to continue the welcome festivities,” Rian says, sweeping a hand toward the town’s decorations. “But when I received word of your attack, I thought it best to postpone. Wolf indicated you’d need some days to recover.”
He motions to Basten, who’s halfway up the stairs, speaking with a Golden Sentinel on duty. Basten stops at the mention of his nickname and glances at us. For a brief second, our eyes meet. My heart tightens against my will. Even breathing hurts.
Basten eventually drags his eyes off me, returning to his conversation, though his hands are now tightly fisted at his sides.
“Serenith will show you to your room,” Lord Rian says, motioning to the head maid, a woman of fifty with a thick and precise immortal braid woven with gray ribbons. “You’ll forgive me for not taking you myself, but urgent business requires my attention. If you need anything, or if you want anything changed to your liking, tell Serenith.”
I blink. Annoyance snaps in my chest. Rian arranged all this extravagant fanfare only to speak to me for five minutes?
Well, what do you want, you dolt? The less time the better.
“Of course,” I say tightly. My thighs are trembling with exhaustion. All I can think of is getting to a chair to sit. I just have to maintain my composure for another few minutes . . .