Page 34 of Curse of Thorns
“The sitting room, then?” she says. “We can get a tray delivered instead. I assume you’re hungry.”
I sigh. “Starving.”
***
TYADIN IS ALREADY INour meeting room when we arrive. He looks up and smiles, but then his eyes narrow like he’s noticed something suspicious. I take a seat at the couch, shoulders slumped awkwardly. I have plenty to be bashful about that has nothing to do with the sexy shadow fae who happened to share my bed last night.
It didn’t mean anything, but Ty wouldn’t take it that way.
“Everything okay?” he asks. I nod slowly but don’t meet his eye.
“Well enough,” Caelynn answers. “How about you? Anything we need to do to assist the cleanup?”
Oh, right. I totally trashed a room in a court that is not my own. “I can pay for anything I—”
Tyadin waves me off. “It’s fine. All taken care of.”
I’m not entirely convinced, but I’ll take the opportunity to let it go for now. I’ll make sure I more than make up for whatever I destroyed. Assuming there wasn’t anything priceless in that part of the castle. I hope I didn’t destroy any Crumbling Court’s heirlooms.
“Something came for you,” Tyadin says casually to Caelynn, but the tense set of his jaw sends a jolt of anxiety through me.
I sit on the couch across from him, and he hands Caelynn a letter with the High Court’s seal on it. My breath catches in my throat.
Caelynn got one too? My eyes are pinned to the envelope between her fingers. She stares at it like she’s unsure if it something precious or if it will explode if she makes any sudden movements.
“Cae and I each got one,” Ty says. “But nothing for you,” he adds slowly.
I bite my lip and nod. “That’s because I already got mine.” I rummage in my pocket, push the gemstone farther down, and pull out a wrinkled parchment.
The invitation came via raven at the Wicked Gates yesterday. The bird circled overhead and then finally dropped the envelope right onto my stag’s saddle after my second failed attempt at getting through.
It’s like it was watching to see if I’d fail first before delivering a message from the queen. Stupid bird. The queen’s message may have played a role in my breakdown yesterday.
My stomach aches, thinking about what might be inside the letters. The queen obviously knows where I am, and if Caelynn is also receiving mail here, she must be keeping tabs on her too.
I don’t like that thought one bit.
Is she choosing Caelynn as her new savior? Is she planning to declare me an official failure?
I unfold the crumpled and ripped parchment.
My fingers run over the calligraphy writing on elaborately-decorated parchment.
Prince Reveln,
The High Queen Zanter-Leisha has requested your presence at the Royal Gala this weekend.
Beneath the formal letter with a date and time is a more casual scrawl from the queen herself.
Unless you are inside the Schorchedlands at the time of the event, I expect you to attend.
I drop the invitation on the table in front of me, staring wide-eyed. Waiting for my allies’ reaction. Do they see what I see? A veiled threat.
They don’t speak for several long moments.
“Why would she even want me there?” I say, tossing my hands up. “She doesn’t, does she? She’s telling me I better be in the Schorchedlands by then.”
Because the other option is that, in days, I’ll be expected to parade in front of hundreds of fae at the High Court and pretend I’m not an utter failure.
