It’s late morning when Des and I enter Mara’s sitting room. So far today, I’ve managed to eat breakfast … then nearly upchuck said breakfast while training with Des.

Oh, the joys of becoming a weapon of mass destruction.

Mara is already reclining on a couch, waiting for us. She looks impossibly regal with her lilac dress draped around her, revealing just the right amount of leg from one of its slits.

“Ah, there you are,” she says, raising her hands in greeting, like yesterday never happened.

I’m still sweaty from the workout, innocuously picking at the training leathers that are now sealing themselves to my skin. Des for his part looks far more badass, his gear molding to his body like a lover.

We were right in the middle of a scrimmage that I swear was going my way when Mara’s soldiers interrupted us, telling us that the Queen of Flora requested my presence.

Des sort of took it upon himself to join me despite not receiving an invitation himself. And now here we are. Completely out of place in this dainty little sitting room.

Around Mara, several servants move about. I catch sight of the red, upraised skin on their wrists.

Humans. Slaves.

Mara’s eyes follow mine, and her expression seems to grow excited when she realizes what I’m looking at. In her world, regardless of titles and relationships, at the end of the day, I am one of them. A shadow, a servant, an inferior race of beings.

Mara’s attention slides to Des, and she flashes him a sly smile. “Didn’t trust me alone with your mate?”

“The last time my mate was alone with a ruler, she nearly died. It’s nothing personal.”

Mara clicks her tongue. “So very protective.” Her eyes slide to me. “But you don’t need protecting, do you?”

On earth, no.

In fact, if Des pulled something like this back home, it would royally irk me. But here, where my glamour is useless and I’m surrounded by immortals who like bloodsport even more than my siren does, I’m inclined to let Des be protective.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” I ask instead, taking the lead and heading deeper into the room. Des follows behind me.

I sit down in the green velvet armchair adjacent to her, and Des takes the matching seat across from it.

“Tea?” Mara offers, gesturing to the delicate tea set in front of her on the coffee table.

I shake my head.

“Don’t mind if I help myself,” she says.

The vines that have taken over the room now slither up the coffee table, wrapping around the tea kettle and a delicate cup. They lift the porcelain containers into the air, and then ever so gently, the vines tilt the kettle, and tea begins pouring into the cup.

“Have you enjoyed your stay so far?” Mara asks, settling herself into the seat.

I can’t quite rip my eyes away from the sight of all those plants pouring a cup of tea.

Magic will never get old.

“Mhm,” I say, watching as more vines join the production, one to add some cream to the cup, another to add a cube of sugar.

“I hear that during the first night of festivities, you and the king slipped away to the forest for a bit.”

Now I tear my gaze away from the tea.

I flush as I remember being pressed to that tree, Des’s chest pinned against mine as he pistoned in and out of me.

Of course the queen knows we made love under the canopy of her forest.

“Oh, there’s no reason to be embarrassed,” she says, noticing my reddening cheeks. “We celebrate the cycle of seasons by coming together. It’s an honor to have the King of the Night and his mate sanctify the celebration by joining in. I myself disappeared into the forest several times that evening alone.”

Really, I could’ve lived without knowing that.

My eyes slide to Des.

He lounges back in his chair, one ankle thrown over his knee, his thumb rubbing his lower lip while he watches me. Judging from the heat in his eyes, he’s vividly remembering that evening as well. And unlike me, he doesn’t seem the least bit embarrassed by it.

One of the vines extends the cup of tea to Mara. She takes it, sipping daintily from it.

“So,” she says, “festivities aside, I’ve also heard that you are actively looking for the Thief of Souls.” Mara watches me over the rim of her teacup.

I nod. I mean, technically, Des and I are investigating this together, but when I look at him again, I get the impression that he wants me to take full credit for this.

“So you’re aware that guards from all four kingdoms have gone missing during the Solstice festivities. All men.”

Again, I nod.

“I was hoping to avoid this situation.” She takes a sip of her tea and shakes her head. “I wanted to discuss with you the testimony of the last people to see these soldiers alive. I think you’ll find it most interesting.”

Deliberately, she leans over and picks up a silver stirring spoon from the tea tray, then dips it into her cup. “You see, many of them say they last saw their comrades with a single individual. The same individual.”

I grip the edges of the armrest, already dreading, already knowing, what she’s going to say.

“Who?” I ask anyway.

“Your mate, Desmond Flynn.”