The council members abruptly stop their bickering and jolt to their feet. They look at me like they heard wrong, except I couldn't be more serious.
“Out!” I snap and whip around toward the balcony of my study... the king's study.
I don't have the patience today for their ludicrous ramblings about where different guests are to be seated at the wedding, the whole discussion on how the king will be buried after the wedding, and how I am to be relocated in the palace in preparation for my new wife.
The notion has me feeling trapped, and I'm teetering on the edge of just walking away from everything. Everything I do is for duty, for loyalty, for my family.
But the cost is severe, and it's taking its toll on me.
All I can think about is Guendolyn and our time on the balcony. She healed my wings, eliminated the shadow I've lived under most of my life. And to thank her, I drove her away.
I'm fuming while my heart sits broken, a useless thing in my chest. How am I meant to marry another when the one person I would kill for is just out of reach? The hurt on her face is the worst... it destroys me to see her torn, to know I did that to her.
I clasp the railing out on the balcony and look down at the yard where guards and staff run around with decorations, making sure everything is perfect for something I don't fucking want. I’d give anything to be in their shoes, to just do a job and not have to make every damn decision for everyone. To be with who I want.
Tense, I grind my teeth, hating my life. I loathe getting up out of bed most mornings, and my stomach hurts unbearably. I can't remember the last time I had a full meal—nothing stays down anymore. I'm falling apart.
The door bangs shut behind me, and I twist around, expecting to find an empty room. Except Jasion remains, sauntering over to join me on the balcony, the fairy skull swinging from his neck annoying the hell out of me. It reminds me of Guendolyn. Everything does.
“Why are you still here?” I mutter.
“You're distressed. Good idea to get rid of the lot of them. They're a gaggle of geese going round in circles with no clear direction of what they want.”
I return my attention to the grounds below. “And what do you want?”
He sucks in a sharp breath. “For Your Highness to be happy, of course. Remember all those years you spoke about what sort of king you'd become when it was your turn? How you'd make the kingdom a better place, ensure fairness and equality of wealth? I worry you've lost that spirit. Maybe the reality of being king is a lot more stressful than any of us realized.”
His voice grates on my nerves, his words like a mosquito, constantly in my ear.
I straighten and face the mage as he leans over the balcony railing to stare at everyone working tirelessly in the courtyard. “Don't give me your pity, Jasion. What do you really want? I can tell when you're leading up to something.”
He coils around to meet my gaze and squares his shoulders. His hair is wild today—more than usual—peppered with tiny feathers, which means he's been practicing magic.
“I worry for you,” he states, like he does all the time.
But my thoughts sweep back to my discussion with Luther on our way to Ash Court, where he insisted Jasion was infatuated with me. I've heard similar rumors for years, but I never paid them any attention. Jealousy comes in all forms—except when I study the way he looks at me, it makes me wonder.
“What you need is a close advisor by your side who isn't a dusty old rat who'll leak information to anyone for gold coins.”
I frown at him. “What are you implying? That my royal council isn't to be trusted?”
He breathes heavily like he carries the world on his shoulders. “Ahren.” He steps closer—too fucking close for my liking. “Where do you think I learned that your wings are healed?”
I stiffen, his confession taking me aback. “What the fuck?” I growl.
His shoulders rise and stiffen. “You're missing the point. I am the only person on the council you can trust to have your back, so appoint me as your chief advisor to take some of the load from you. Let me deal with the intricacies of planning your wedding, of the funeral, of our guests. You should not be bothered by these things.”
He has a valid point, but my attention remains on someone having watched me on the balcony with Guendolyn. Had they seen her healing my wings?
“What did they see?”
Jasion rubs a hand over his mouth as if having to think this through. “You were seen from the grounds elevating over the balcony, your wings bright and spectacular. This is a new start, like you were reborn, meaning you leave the past as just that.”
I almost choke on the words 'new start.' What waits for me feels more like being herded into a corral where I’ll be closed away for life.
“Leave,” I command. “I need time to think.”
“Of course.” He bows his head and begins retreating. “Just remember, you don't have to do everything on your own. We've been friends for a long time, and I'm here for you.”
His over-affection is wearing thin on me. While he makes some good points, I don't know how much faith I can put in him until I better understand his motivation. He and I may have grown up together in Shadow Court and shared experiences, but that also made me privy to the type of fae he is: manipulative, starved for attention, and in desperate need to prove himself. Those traits don't make him deadly. Yet with Guendolyn’s mistrust of him and the conversations I’ve had with the king and my brothers about him cause
