“What’s the game?” I asked, turning away from the two men so I could face the queen.

“Game?” She batted long-lashed eyes at me. She really was too pretty. “Who said anything about a game? This is a revelry. They happen only four times a year. It is a moment of peace and merriment in Faerie. Tell me it wouldn’t make you happy to spend it with a man you care about?”

I opened my mouth, but if I said it wouldn’t thrill me, that would be a lie. She’d sidestepped my question though, which meant there was a catch. “The bonds you’d likely tie around me wouldn’t be worth the ‘moment’ of merriment.”

“You’ll incur no debt or bonds from me, dear Lexi. I promise.”

I cringed inwardly at both the endearment and the nickname, but I could feel the weight of that promise. It was genuine and she couldn’t break it. So what was I missing?

“You’ve ordered Falin to have no contact with me,” I said, because I was still trying to find the loophole she planned to exploit.

“I’ll lift it for the revelry.”

“Why?”

The skin around her eyes tightened, just slightly, but it betrayed her annoyance. “Must you ask so many questions? Perhaps I wish to engender goodwill from you. Perhaps I wish you to remember what you’d sacrifice if you decline my court. Perhaps I’m simply in a good mood as this is a joyful occasion—”

I seriously doubted the last.

“Now, pick your man before I change my mind,” she said, her voice turning sharp.

It didn’t escape me that she had yet again avoided my question. Something more was going on here.

I turned to the two fae. They were both Sleagh Maith, nobles of the winter court and currently both shimmering slightly without glamour to dampen their otherworldly qualities. And yet, the two men couldn’t have been more different. Oh, they were both handsome, but Ryese was softer, his features more delicate, and his body, while as toned as most Sleagh Maith, was that of the pampered elite. Falin, on the other hand, was rougher around the edges. His muscles were earned from hard work, his handsome face almost always guarded, his lips slower to smile, but when he did, it softened his features.

He wasn’t smiling now, but watching me with a predatory look. Ryese on the other hand, looked away as soon as I turned to him. I’d expected to see the same dark anger I had the other night in the Bloom—he didn’t deal with rejection well—but in that split second, what I saw in those pale eyes was uncertainty. Which struck me as wrong. Very wrong.

She wouldn’t have…?

I opened my shields. I could tell from the way the woman beside me stilled that my eyes lit from the inside, but I didn’t care if she noticed. She was playing a game, and I intended to See through it.

And I could.

Faerie had its own layers of reality, but the land of the dead and the Aetheric weren’t among them, so while I could sense the realities around me, they weren’t visible. That meant absolutely nothing obscured the fact both men were bound in glamour—a strong one, too. But while the glamour was thick, it didn’t change the fact that with my shields open, the men switched places.

So that’s her game. Now I knew why “Ryese” wouldn’t meet my eyes—the queen had likely ordered Falin not to reveal the trick.

“I pick him,” I said, pointing at the real Falin.

“Ryese?” the queen asked, those perfect eyebrows arching.

I almost said yes, as that was who Falin currently looked like, but stopped myself. She could drop the glamour at any moment. If I said yes to Ryese, she may do just that, and I’d be stuck with the real Ryese. “No.”

“Then you mean him.” She pointed to the fae glamoured to look like Falin.

“No,” I said again and crossed the space to Falin. I opened my shields wider, until I couldn’t see even a shadow of the glamoured shape hiding Falin’s form.

Glamour is belief magic. I wasn’t one hundred percent sure how it worked from the fae side, but the basic principle was that if you believed what you saw, it became real—at least temporarily. If enough people disbelieved what they saw, reality would reject the glamour. Not all glamour was equal, and Faerie accepted it easier than mortal reality—so much so that the first time I met the Winter Queen she’d transformed my outfit into a ball gown, which still hung in my closet, complete with ice embellishments that never melted. But even Faerie wouldn’t accept that one man was another.

Normally it took a lot of like-minded people to disbelieve glamour, but reality and I had an interesting relationship. With my shields open, I could see the men as they truly were. I just hoped reality agreed.

“Him,” I said again, and reached out and touched Falin’s arm. As I did, I gave a push of power, willing reality to accept what I saw as true.

The queen’s top lip quivered, as if she were fighting a scowl and close to losing the battle. Reality had clearly accepted my truth over hers.

“Very clever, Lexi,” she said, the words clipped but even. The air tingled with her anger, but her face smoothed to controlled perfection. Then her lips curved into a cold smile. “Your prize then, I suppose. I promised you contact. I didn’t promise you conversation. Knight, come here.”

Falin didn’t hesitate, striding to her without so much as a glance at me. She wrapped one pale hand around his neck, pulling him down so she could whisper in his ear. As she did so, she pressed her body against his. My jaw locked, a mix of anger and jealousy twisting in my guts. I turned away, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of seeing my reaction.

I glanced back in time to see Falin’s eyes widen and then narrow, but whatever she told him, all he did was incline his head as she stepped back. She turned to me, that cruel smile still claiming her face.

“What ever will you do with my Knight for a day and a night? He’s all yours, except his words, but you don’t really need those.” She tilted her head, but if she was aiming for innocence, she failed. “Be merry, dear Lexi.” Then she glanced at her nephew. “Ryese, let’s go.”

While the Winter Queen might have control of her features, Ryese certainly didn’t. His expression wavered between confusion and anger. I doubted the confusion had anything to do with me breaking the queen’s glamour and a lot more with the very blatant thought of How the hell did I lose? When he stood there, staring, his expression darkening by the heartbeat, the queen called his name again. Ryese’s head snapped up, and I wiggled my fingers in a mock wave good-bye. Ryese scowled, but turned on his heel, following his aunt.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” I said once they disappeared into the crowd.

Falin didn’t answer, of course. He just laced his fingers into my hair and leaned down. His lips claimed mine, and he kissed me as if in that one kiss, he could make up for a month of lost opportunities. My body responded, warming under his attention, returning his kiss.

Then my brain rebooted, screaming warnings at me. I flattened my palms against Falin’s chest and pushed hard enough to get my point across.

He didn’t release me, didn’t let me step away from him, but he broke the kiss, giving me an inch or two as he stared at me like I could somehow save him. But I couldn’t save him. Hell, I couldn’t save myself. I’d won him from the Winter Queen, but for only a day and a night, and I had no idea what she’d told him. He’d spent the last month conducting raids on my home and being cold to the point of cruel because she’d commanded him to. I didn’t know her new game, but I wasn’t interested in playing.

Falin started to lean forward again, but I pressed my hands against his chest, feeling his heart beating fast and hard under my palms.

“Slow down, and let go of me.”

He cocked his head to the side, but the look he gave me was more bemused than confused. I couldn’t blame him. After all, we’d done a lot more than kiss several months ago. But now was different. The Winter Queen’s plots aside, I needed distance now for the same reason I couldn’t kiss Death yesterday.

Once I could have enjoyed the “right now.” Could have lost myself in the moment and had no regrets. Could have relished the fact that for a day and a night, Falin was mine.

But Falin would walk away from me at dawn. That was inevitable. The only question was how many pieces of my broken heart he’d take with him. Between Falin’s month long chill and Death’s long absence, I didn’t have many pieces left.

Chapter 27

Falin lowered me to my feet as the music stopped.

I was breathless, but smiling. I normally hated dancing. Not today. And not just because I had to figure out something to do with a man who couldn’t speak. As the fiddler and the bagpipers started in on another lively tune, the music seeped into my blood, my bones, and combined with the heady merriment filling the toadstool-ringed circle. Falin led as we danced with a mix of fae. There was no choreography, just carefree movement, as if the spirit of the dance spurred us on. I laughed, losing myself in the excitement.

I wasn’t the only one. The queen may have commanded Falin not to speak, but he could laugh, his face aglow. I didn’t know if part of his compulsion was to stay by my side or if he simply wanted to be with me while he could—it wasn’t like I could ask him— but he’d refused to leave despite my initial insistence. Now I was glad he’d stayed.

The setting sun coated the clearing in a golden-red glow, which added even more magic to the revelry. I finally understood why Rianna enjoyed Faerie. The day had been awkward, but fun. There were games, some familiar, some I hadn’t known the rules but played anyway, Falin laughing as he tried to teach me through charades, which became a game within a game. There was music, and dancing, and everywhere the fae played, giggled, romped, and reveled in the gaiety. When the Harvest Queen and King had said to make merry, the fae had listened.

The song ended, and Falin led me out of the fray before the music started again. Walking arm and arm, I marveled at the beauty around me, at the way the last light of the day made the leaves look like they burned gold, red, and orange. At the fae, who even the most monstrous in appearance didn’t look dangerous, not now, not here. Heads turned to the sky as the last ray of light faded and night descended on the revelry.