Page 73 of It's Not All Fake

“You are my sister Eleanor, now and for the rest of my days.” I gazed down at our combined hands with a doleful smile. “However few they may be.”

* * *

Lately,the hardest part of getting through the House Receptions had just been staying awake.

As the Houses grew smaller, both in size and importance, the meetings became less about bargains or threats and more about angling for favor. The lower Houses had little to gain from Challenging me. Even for those bold enough to take the risk, every political boon they might have sought had already been demanded by Houses with greater leverage. Instead, the Period of Challenging was an opportunity to raise their standing by building alliances.

As a result, I’d spent the last several Receptions being fawned over like a newborn babe. They raved about my beauty, waxed poetic about my confidence at the ball, and offered me lifetime supplies of baubles, silks, and artwork. Lumnos was home to some of Emarion’s finest artists and artisans, and I now had my pick of the very best the realm had to offer.

Today, my favor was being bribed with pearls and emeralds. House Byrnum specialized in both, and they had filled the room with a truly dazzling assortment. Their House leaders, green-haired twins named Ryx and Ravyn, were taking turns blathering on about what a fine Queen I was sure to be and our two Houses’ “special future together.”

Some other time, I might have reveled in having riches I could once have only dreamed of, or I might have made Teller laugh until he cried recounting how I’d been praised for mygraceandelegance.

Instead, every compliment had the opposite effect. Each one was an offering to a false idol, a reminder of my unworthiness, a scoop of dirt burying me further in my self-made grave.

It was impossible not to imagine Luther in this seat. He would have known exactly what to say and do, how to accept the flattery with humility and negotiate the threats with ease. He had the right pedigree, the right upbringing, the right demeanor, even the right color eyes. For him, the Period of Challenging would have been a mere formality—the fulfillment of a long-expected promise.

He would have been the King the Descended wanted. The King the realm needed.

Perhaps in a few days, he still would be.

I shifted in my seat and stole a glance behind me, unsurprised to find his unyielding stare fixed on me.

Watching my back. Awaiting my command.

These days, I hated looking at him. Hated being in his presence, under his constant watch. Hated that he no longer challenged me or reined me back in, in his quiet, clever way. Hated the pain I saw every time our eyes met. Hated that a part of me wanted to forgive him. Worse—that despite my broken soul, a part of me wanted to consolehimand bring the smile I once cherished back to his face.

I hated that I missed him. Hated that I longed to hear his dry humor, hungered to bait him into a conversation that was as much flirting as sparring. Hated that he no longer found reasons to put his hand on my back, that I no longer had excuses to loop my arm through his and nest into the warm safety of his side.

I hated that when I lay in bed at night, lonely and scared and yearning for a pair of arms to wrap me up and give me strength against all I had to face, it was not a pair of sweet, honey-brown eyes I pictured staring back to me, but a set of brooding grey-blue.

Eyes that I suddenly realized I had been staring at for too long to be casual—eyes that were now staring back at me under furrowed, questioning brows.

“Your Majesty?”

“Huh?” I whipped around and jolted upright. “What? I mean, uh...” I cleared my throat and gestured to a mountain of gemstones set out on a nearby table. “My apologies, I was, um, distracted by these beautiful emeralds. They’re so... beautiful, and so... sogreen.”

The twins reacted in unison, two perfect smiles stretching up to two perfect sets of gleaming eyes.

“We’re so pleased you enjoy them,” Ryx purred. “After the wedding, we’ll ensure Your Majesty is covered in jewels everywhere you go.”

“Wedding?” I frowned. “What wedding?”

“The wedding to our son, of course,” Ravyn said.

I was thankful that Eleanor’s forewarning kept my expression clear of the disgust now roiling my stomach. She had explained that the twins of House Byrnum were mated to each other. Though they shared no offspring—thank the gods—Ravyn had children from a different sire that Ryx had adopted as his own.

“We so look forward to the joining of our families for the happy occasion,” Ryx crooned.

“Who is it you think is marrying your son?” I asked slowly. The crease between my brows deepened. “If you believe I’m selling my hand...”

Remis rose and stepped forward with an arm extended. “This is a private matter, there is no need to—”

The twins dissolved into a fit of eerily identical laughter. “Your Majesty, we would never presume such a thing,” Ravyn giggled. “The wedding isn’t toyou, of course. Though we do expect you to be there. It is part of the agreement, after all.”

“Really,” Remis started again, “this isn’t a matter for the Reception.”

“What agreement?” I demanded. “Who is your son to marry?”