Amidst the din of indulgence, the rumor mill churning full force. The newlyweds sat, just opposite the band, at the head table.

  Aleiya glanced out of the corner of her eye to her husband next to her. His silk gloved hand thrumming over and over again on the table.

  He seemed annoyed.

  She didn’t think it was at her. He hadn’t spared a glance her way since the ceremony. Was it the party? The weather? He hadn’t said anything—not even about her late arrival—so she surmised she was safe.

  For now at least. Perhaps that would be something she would have to pay for later. When there weren’t as many eyes.

  A somewhat welcome, if awkward, silence settled between them. Aleiya wasn’t much of a talker anyway. As bass fused with thunder, she let the waves of sound and celebration wash over her, softening the unease curled around her spine.

  No one was watching her. Not really. Not anymore.

  But they were… talking about her.

  She could hear the whispers reach her every so often. Nothing she wasn’t already used to. Nothing she had never heard before.

  It seemed as if this city was as filled with gangrenous green eyes as the fairy courts of her forest home.

  It was strangely soothing.

  Her curious moonlit eyes drank in everything they could of the Great Hall. The tall stained-glass panes streaked with rain, the towering stone pillars, the bulbs of blinding light that burned without fire or mana or runes.

  What a peculiar technology.

  Her shoulders began to loosen. She almost breathed.

  “Long live the Bitch Queen!”

  She flinched at the sudden declaration.

  Clinking glasses echoed like polite applause through the Great Hall, a cascade of ease and cheer. It was as if a collective sigh of relief breathed over every table. Like they were celebrating a freshly dug grave.

  She wished she knew who they were talking about. She wished she could leave. Go to her room. Her bed. Sleep until the next time someone came to retrieve her. Place her. Then put her away once more.

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  She wasn’t used to being left out for so long. Especially without instruction. No one had told her what to do, beyond: show up.

  She didn’t like it.

  At least at home, once she’d been shown off, she was told to leave. But here—here, they had changed her into a dry gown and made her sit beside her… rather frightening husband. She thought he would tell her what she was supposed to do. Why she was here. What was expected of her.

  But she supposed that was not for her to know.

  After her eyes swept the room, making sure she was still beyond the notice of drunken gazes, Aleiya looked down at her and Sullivan’s matching plates. A parade of delicacies gleamed up at her in glistening color and scent. There was the fragrance of salt and fish laced with heat and a flowery sort of tinge at the edges.

  Her gaze then settled on the blood red liquid in a bell shaped glass.

  She pressed her lips into a thin line, careful not to smudge the slick paint on her lips.

  Were they going to force her to eat this?

  Her tongue instinctively curled away from the soft palate of her mouth. The thought of swallowing anything made her sick to her stomach. Pretty offerings were for the foolish, and Aleiya would not be fooled. She knew fey machinations when she saw them. She was all too familiar with their tricks.

  She’d push the food away, but was too afraid to draw the ire of her husband.

  He was sitting right next to her after all. The drumming of his fingers grew more erratic with each cheer. She didn’t know if it meant frustration, or if he was keeping time with the band. Either way, she didn’t dare test it.

  He stopped.

  She stilled…

  Her eyes were trained on the hand closest to her, the one that was fueled by his irritation. It was as if it was locked in place, the fingers positioned oddly, as his hand trembled through the fabric.

  He slowly clenched and unclenched his fist before moving it beneath the table to his lap. Out of sight.

  Her eyes flitted away once more. He clearly didn’t want anyone to see. But she did.

  He had done that twice now.

  Another question she would never be able to ask him. Not that he seemed the type to care about silly questions.

  She visibly flinched when she heard the other hand holding his glass fracture it in his grip. It was so sudden, so quiet, she didn’t even know what had happened.

  Eyes wide, slightly panicked, she made sure to escape notice by disappearing once more at his side. She took in a long, slow breath, and eased the tension out from her nose.

  He was truly scary.

  The last time she saw him, her world was ending. There had been no music then. No celebration. Not even a conversation. Just a little bird that was moved to a newer, darker cage.

  With a few blinks and a steadying breath, she willed the unpleasant memory away. She ignored everything else. Her eyes squeezed shut. Her hands tightly clutched the fabric of her dress.

  She could endure this. She could survive. She always did.

  She always did…

  Another question she would never be able to ask him. Not that he seemed the type to care about silly questions.

  The last time she saw him, her world was ending. There had been no music then. No celebration. Not even a conversation. Just a little bird that was moved to a newer, darker cage.

  With a few blinks and a steadying breath, she willed the unpleasant memory away. Her eyes squeezed shut. Her hands tightly clutched the fabric of her dress.

  She could endure this. She could survive. She always did.

  She always did…