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“Very well.” Frowning, Lorelei rose to her feet. As she stood, she took in, for the first time since her arrival, the sheer emptiness of the room about them … and the utter silence, apart from the whisper of falling snow as it brushed against the high, plain windows.

Even in the earliest years of Lorelei’s reign, when she’d been surrounded by danger and betrayals in her own court, she’d had Katrin and then Ilse by her side to keep her loyal, loving company. Saskia, too, had been surrounded by a motley family of trolls and ogres and goblins ever since the years she’d spent in hiding as a child.

In all the years that she and Ailana had worked together, though, had Lorelei ever witnessed any signs of other caring relationships in the ice queen’s life? Right now, she couldn’t think of a single one. Ailana did have an excellent and efficient marshal of her realm, much like Lorelei’s own reliable Balravian Chancelloress. But when it came to family, friends, or any other personal relationships …

Were she and Saskia all that Ailana truly had?

The last of Lorelei’s irritation fell away as she regarded that tensely watchful figure who had worked so tirelessly across the years to protect and advance not only her own nation’s interests but those of her allies, too. If the price of that fierce loyalty was an aggravating sisterly lecture about Lorelei’s choices every now and then …

Well. As Lorelei had lost her own mother’s protection long ago, perhaps she should finally stop complaining and consider the addition of a caring older sister to her life as the gift from the gods that it truly always had been.

Slipping across the tiled floor now, she darted in to embrace Ailana from behind, ignoring the other woman’s twitch of surprise, and dropped a swift, soft kiss on her friend’s cool cheek. She also added an affectionate scattering of rainbow sparkles simply to muss up Ailana’s elegant perfection. “Thank you,” Lorelei murmured, “for looking out for Gerard as well as for me. I hope you know we’ll both do the same for you, forever.”

“Ah.” Ailana swallowed visibly, eyes wide with startlement. How long had it been since anyone had dared to hug the ice queen? “Well. That is excellent. Of course. Our alliance will remain strong.”

“Always,” Lorelei promised. “Our friendship, too. But now I’ll leave you to concentrate and stop fretting at you.”

Ailana twisted around in her seat to give Lorelei a warning look. “And you’ll be listening out for messages, this time, instead of ignoring them?”

Lorelei rolled her eyes and tapped the pink silk reticule that hung from a silver belt around her waist now, holding an enchanted mirror-box for communication. “As if I’d ever risk your wrath that way again!”

Laughing, she drew a portal in the air and stepped into it.

Her riding gryphon, Bluebell, wouldn’t mind her fretting in his company as long as it was accompanied by a good grooming. It had been far too many days since Lorelei had visited her luxuriant stables. She couldn’t think of a better distraction from her worries now than to comb out Bluebell’s gorgeous neck feathers and then take an exhilarating ride through the winter air on the gryphon’s furry back …

But as she stepped into the portal, its path abruptly shifted before her, twisting and writhing out of her control.

It shouldn’t have been possible. Surely no one carried enough power in a magical signature so close to Lorelei’s own that they could seize and overwrite her private portals! And yet …

She landed in a sinuously shifting, silver space that felt immediately wrong—not part of the fae realm, but not within the mortal realm, either. The aetheric tunnels in between were meant to be passed through in a heartbeat whenever fae used them to travel by portal; now, the silver walls of aether trapped her in place, rippling, upending themselves, and circling around her with nauseating effect.

Swallowing down acid bile, Lorelei forced herself to turn in a circle of her own, to take full stock of the eerie limbo where she’d somehow landed. All she saw was silver upon shifting silver fog until …

Ohhh. I should have known.

Several feet behind her stood the only living creature who could have achieved this feat of magic; the only one with a signature so close to her own but even more powerful … and one who had every right to be furious with Lorelei now.

The eye-wateringly ancient and impossibly beautiful Morgana of Efaelen regarded her errant daughter with lips pursed and power fully gathered to vibrate through the air in warning. Ominous disapproval marked every line of the true fae queen’s features.

This would not be a happy reunion.

28

The moment Gerard stepped into the private council chamber, he knew that everything he’d been told by the Queens of Villainy was true, and every nonhuman on the continent was in more danger than he could have imagined only a few days ago.

Otto, of course, was sprawled in the large, cushioned, and gilded chair that faced the iron doorway, while everyone else gathered around him in a circle of smaller, uncushioned chairs as supplicants in the windowless room. The council members who’d already assembled were a disheartening assortment of spineless young flatterers and sycophants more versed in fashion than in government. Clearly, none of them had possessed either the principles or the political power to protest the addition of one of the Empire’s most despicable figures to their circle.

The Imperial high priestess, who sat at her brother’s left hand, resplendent in her usual flowing robes and golden headdress, looked as serene as ever … but as every voice silenced in the shock of Gerard’s sudden arrival, she caught his gaze and gave a miniscule tilt of her head, subtly directing his attention to that horrifyingly familiar new member of the council who sat directly to Otto’s right in a place of honor:

The lean and hollow-eyed fanatic who had become the official leader of the Purification movement, Feodor Rapenthe.

Despite appearances, the man had been born into the highest ranks of the aristocracy forty-some years ago, and Gerard was confident that he still possessed an impressive family fortune. However, tonight, as had become his well-known custom, Rapenthe wore a ragged, floor-length, black tunic ornamented only by a plain length of rope that served as a belt around his gaunt frame, claiming the appearance of a poverty-stricken saint. His flowing black hair was matted and uncombed, his beard reached nearly to his waist, and Gerard marked a glint of cold cunning in the man’s gaze before Rapenthe lowered his chin and gaze in a courtesy nod for the arrival of the Emperor’s high general.

The Emperor himself wasn’t nearly so restrained. “Good gods, man! What did they do to you?” As Otto leaned forward in his throne-like seat, self-gifted military medals of honor glinted from the chest and shoulders of his padded, gold silk jacket. Copper eyebrows rising high, he openly gaped as he looked Gerard up and down from stubble to stained uniform and muddy boots. “Thank Jovar you’ve escaped! Apparently, my Golden Beacon really is unbeatable, eh?”

Otto turned his head to gather the other council members’ reactions. Most of them murmured in assent before he continued, “We’d all assumed you must be dead by now! Whatever godsawful tortures those creatures inflicted on you, never fear, they will be punished for it. That’s what we’ve all come together to act on tonight!”

“Your Majesty.” Gerard lowered his upper body in a deep bow of respect and used that instant to regather his scattered composure after the shock of Rapenthe’s unexpected appearance. Matters were far more advanced than he’d expected, even after the queens’ warnings—which meant that he had no time to lose. “I beg your pardon,” he said calmly as he straightened, “but I believe that there has been a profound misunderstanding.”