Bree’s eyelids were so very heavy from having stayed up all night and then some. She’d managed to grab a few hours of sleep, but she had tossed and turned through most of it. Her skin felt abuzz with electricity, and memories from the ball kept whispering through her mind. And memories from the moments after.

At one point, she could have sworn that Rafe was going to kiss her.

And then he’d gotten shot.

Not that kissing Rafe would have been a good idea. In fact, it was a terrible one. It was just that sometimes terrible ideas felt much more enticing than good ones.

A knock sounded on her door, and she groaned. It was probably her breakfast. Right on time. She wasn’t ready to see anyone just yet, not even for food. Last night, Taveon had stopped by to tell her that Rafe was completely healed now and resting in the Prince’s chambers. But she’d worried all night, and now she was exhausted because of it.

With a sigh, she threw her legs over the side of the bed and padded barefoot to the door. She wore a thin black nightgown that she’d found in the cupboard, one that barely hit the top of her thighs. Normally, she wouldn’t even answer the door for her breakfast in this, but she was far too weary to make the effort to change right now.

When she pulled open the door, Bree sucked in a strange little gasp through her nose. Lord Dagen’s eyes went wide, and he let out a low whistle as his gaze ripped down her body. Her cheeks flamed, her grip tightening around the doorknob.

“Good morning, Bree. I can see I have caught you at a bad time.” He tried to crane his head around the door. “Have I interrupted something? Is anyone else here?”

Her neck flushed with even more heat. “No one is here. I was just in bed. Sleeping.”

Dagen’s head jerked to the side so he could stare down the corridor, and he suddenly pushed through the door, slamming it shut behind him. “There were some guards coming. I did not wish for them to see me entering your quarters.”

She narrowed her eyes, backing up, her thighs hitting the bed. “Why are you here?”

He strode closer, bracing a hand on the wooden bedpost. “I gave you these elaborate quarters, and then I invited you to be my companion at the ball. And now, I am here in your room while you stand there in that delicious little outfit. Some might say I have come to claim what you owe me for that.”

Anger boiled in Bree’s veins, and she had the sudden urge to slap him as hard as she could. Right on the face. And then maybe punch him in the nose.

He chuckled. “Relax, Bree. I am not that kind of male. I would never want to be with a woman who did not whole-heartedly want to be with me. That said, some may say that is precisely why I am here. We might do well to let them think it.”

Bree rolled her eyes and stormed away from the irritating fae to stare out the window. The moon was high in the sky now and almost as large and as brilliant as the night before.

“Just tell me why you’re here, Lord Dagen.”

“There is no need to use my title when we’re alone,” he said in a murmur. “Dagen will do.”

A thrill went down her spine, and she hated herself for it.

“So, tell me, Bree. What did you discover at the ball last night? Before the entire room erupted into chaos, that is. I could not help but notice Rafferty snuck you out during the commotion.”

“You saw that, did you?” Bree asked, turning to face him. “Because I certainly didn’t see you. Not just before the announcement, not during, and certainly not after.”

A pause. “I was there.”

“Whatever. I don’t even care anymore.” Bree sighed. These fae were really starting to drive her mad.

“Are you certain there is nothing you can tell me?”

“Do you know a fae named Fillan?” Bree asked, thinking back to the strange encounter she’d had in the Prince’s chambers.

Dagen actually looked shocked—and slightly worried. “Fillan? How do you know that name?”

“I met him last night,” she said with a shrug. “He was...well, he made an impression on me. And he didn’t seem particularly keen on the Prince, so I thought he might be one of your spies.”

“He is no spy of mine.” Dagen frowned. “He is an assassin, Bree. And a stealthy one at that. No one has laid eyes on him for years. Well, except his victims, of course. Are you certain that was who you met?”

A shiver went through Bree. She had kissed an assassin? Thinking back, there had definitely been an aura of danger to him, but he still hadn’t seem like someone who slithered through the night, shoving daggers into people’s backs. Or had he? Bree had never met an assassin before, after all.

“Conlan and Branok saw him, too. They called him by name.” And Bree could only pray to the forest that neither of them would pass along exactly what it was they had seen.

Dagen raised his eyebrows. “They recognized his face?”

Bree gave a nod.

“And did they seem surprised to see him?”

She frowned, thinking back. They’d been surprised, but more to find the two of them in the Prince’s chambers rather than to see Fillan. “Not really. I even got the impression that the Prince was familiar with him.”

Dagen let out a low whistle, and then gave a nod. “You have done well, Bree. This is useful information. What it means, I do not know yet, but it does mean something.”

* * *

“Good morning, Bree,” Prince Taveon said an hour later when he strode through her bedroom door without bothering to knock. This morning, though, she’d been ready for him. She’d already donned one of the many gowns in her wardrobe, weaving her hair into a long dark braid that hung down the center of her back.

He raised his eyebrows when he saw she was dressed. Usually, he had to practically kick her out of her bed for her to get moving. “I see you’re already prepared for this morning’s walk.”

Although it was more like late afternoon than morning.

“How’s Rafe?” she asked, twisting her hands together. “I know last night you said he’d healed, but I’ve been worried sick.”

“He is tired but fine,” the Prince said. “Thanks to you.”

She frowned and glanced away. He was wrong about that. “If it weren’t for me, he wouldn’t have been out there in the first place. And I’m afraid that whoever attacked us did so because of me. Rafe...well, he threw himself in front of me.”

It was a thought she’d been mulling over all night. If the Prince hadn’t ordered a guard to shoot her that night at the feast, then it meant someone else had done it. Someone who might want her dead. They’d then seen her at the ball. They’d followed her and Rafe. And they’d attacked when they saw a moment of weakness, the perfect time to rush in and make the kill.

Only Rafe had been hurt instead of Bree.

He’d sacrificed himself to save her.

“I am afraid you may be right, Bree, but that does not make the attack your fault. There must be someone in my Court working against me. Against us.”

Us. What a strange way to phrase it. At some point during her time spent at this Court, their strange battle of “Bree versus Taveon” had turned into an us. She didn’t quite know what to think of that. But she also felt a flicker of unease, one that was impossible to deny. Bree knew someone who was working against Prince Taveon, someone who very much did not want the Prince to win the battle, much less sit on the throne.

Dagen.

But Dagen had come to her. He’d asked her for help. Surely he wouldn’t also try to kill her. How much spying could she do if she wasn’t breathing?

“What is wrong?” the Prince asked, striding closer and tucking a finger underneath her chin. “You look troubled.”

Bree shivered at his touch. “Of course I’m troubled. Someone tried to kill me. Or Rafe. Either way, it was an awful night.”

“Indeed.” The Prince shifted even closer, and Bree steeled herself. For what, she didn’t know. It wasn’t as though he would make more contact than he already had. “There is one thing about last night that I cannot quite wrap my head around. It has been weighing on my mind since the moment you stormed into my quarters.”

Her heart began to tremble in her chest. He was going to ask her how she knew where his chambers were, and she didn’t really have an answer for that.

“When Rafe got wounded, you had the chance to run. You could have gone back to Otherworld, and no one would have realized what you had done in time to stop you.” A pause. “And yet you stayed. You came to me when you could have run.”

Bree swallowed hard. She hadn’t really thought about running away at the time. She’d been too concerned about Rafe, too scared for his life. Leaving him just so she could return home hadn’t been an option. Escaping this hellhole did not mean more to her than his life.

“Don’t think this means I like my life here as a slave,” she said, unable to keep the snap out of her voice. He was looking far too smug about the whole thing for her liking. “And don’t think it means I actually want to fight for you in this dumb battle. I did it for Rafe. Not you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So, if that had been the two of us out there, and I had been bleeding on the ground...you would not have saved me? You would have run?”

“Of course I would have run,” she said, barreling forward recklessly, her words falling out of her as if she couldn’t stop them. “I would have left you there. Simple as that. Would you blame me? You’ve made my life a living hell.”

“Well, the feeling is mutual,” he said with a snap. Whatever softness she’d seen in his face before was gone now. Those hard edges, that glint in his eye. It was all back with a vengeance. For a moment, things had almost felt civil between them, as if they’d come to a strange understanding, one where they could tolerate each other for once. But the peace hadn’t been meant to last. There was too much bad blood between them for anything else.

Bree and Taveon would never get along. So, why did it make her feel sad?