father’s courtiers defected to other courts rather than have a warrior-beast

snarling at them.”
A half-wild beast, Nesta had once called me. It was an effort to not take his
hand, to not reach out to him and tell him that I understood. But I just said,
“Then they’re idiots. You’ve kept these lands protected from the blight, when it
seems that others haven’t fared so well. They’re idiots,” I said again.
But darkness flickered in Tamlin’s eyes, and his shoulders seemed to curve
inward ever so slightly. Before I could ask about it, we cleared the little wood, a
spread of hills and knolls laid out ahead. In the distance, there were masked
faeries atop many of them, building what seemed to be unlit fires. “What are
those?” I asked, halting.
“They’re setting up bonfires—for Calanmai. It’s in two days.”
“For what?”
“Fire Night?”
I shook my head. “We don’t celebrate holidays in the human realm. Not after
you—your people left. In some places, it’s forbidden. We don’t even remember
the names of your gods. What does Cala—Fire Night celebrate?”
He rubbed his neck. “It’s just a spring ceremony. We light bonfires, and …
the magic that we create helps regenerate the land for the year ahead.”
“How do you create the magic?”
“There’s a ritual. But it’s … very faerie.” He clenched his jaw and continued
walking, away from the unlit fires. “You might see more faeries around than
usual—faeries from this court, and from other territories, who are free to wander
across the borders that night.”
“I thought the blight had scared many of them away.”
“It has—but there will be a number of them. Just … stay away from them all.
You’ll be safe in the house, but if you run into one before we light the fires at
sundown in two days, ignore them.”
“And I’m not invited to your ceremony?”
“No. You’re not.” He clenched and loosened his fingers, again and again, as
if trying to keep the claws contained.
Though I tried to ignore it, my chest caved a bit.
We walked back in the sort of tense silence we hadn’t endured in weeks.
Tamlin went rigid the moment we entered the gardens. Not from me or our
awkward conversation—it was quiet with that horrible stillness that usually
meant one of the nastier faeries was around. Tamlin bared his teeth in a low
snarl. “Stay hidden, and no matter what you overhear, don’t come out.”
 Then he was gone.
Alone, I looked to either side of the gravel path, like some gawking idiot. If
there was indeed something here, I’d be caught in the open. Perhaps it was
shameful not to go to his aid, but—he was a High Lord. I would just get in the
way.
I had just ducked behind a hedge when I heard Tamlin and Lucien
approaching. I silently swore and froze. Maybe I could sneak across the fields to
the stables. If there was something amiss, the stables not only had shelter but
also a horse for me to flee on. I was about to make for the high grasses mere
steps beyond the edge of the gardens when Tamlin’s snarl rippled through the air
on the other side of the hedge.
I turned—just enough to spy them through the dense leaves. Stay hidden, he’d
said. If I moved now, I would surely be noticed.
“I know what day it is,” Tamlin said—but not to Lucien. Rather, the two of
them faced … nothing. Someone who wasn’t there. Someone invisible. I would
have thought they were playing a prank on me had I not heard a low,
disembodied voice reply.
“Your continued behavior is garnering a lot of interest at court,” the voice
said, deep and sibilant. I shivered, despite the warmth of the day. “She has begun
wondering—wondering why you haven’t given up yet. And why four naga
wound up dead not too long ago.”
“Tamlin’s not like the other fools,” Lucien snapped, his shoulders pushed
back to raise himself to his full height, more warrior-like than I’d yet seen him.
No wonder he had all those weapons in his room. “If she expected bowed heads,
then she’s more of an idiot than I thought.”
The voice hissed, and my blood went cold at the noise. “Speak you so ill of
she who holds your fate in her hands? With one word, she could destroy this
pathetic estate. She wasn’t pleased when she heard of you dispatching your
warriors.” The voice now seemed turned toward Tamlin. “But, as nothing has
come of it, she has chosen to ignore it.”
There was a deep-throated growl from the High Lord, but his words were
calm as he said, “Tell her I’m getting sick of cleaning up the trash she dumps on
my borders.”
The voice chuckled, the sound like sand shifting. “She sets them loose as gifts
—and reminders of what will happen if she catches you trying to break the terms
of—”
“He’s not,” Lucien snarled. “Now, get out. We have enough of your ilk
swarming on the borders—we don’t need you defiling our home, too. For that