Family dinners in Elfhame have never been known for their warmth. Ours, especially, have a tendency to circle around bloodshed the way other courts discuss the weather.

She stood at the head of the table, candlelight catching in her hair, eyes sharp as drawn blades. There was something electric about her when she spoke strategy—something cold and bright and wholly intoxicating.

“Whether Lady Nore wishes to use them to attack us or the mortal world or just have them fight for her amusement, we ought to stop her,” she said. Calm. Calculating. “If we delay, she has time to build up her forces. But attacking her stronghold would mean my father’s death. If we move against her, he dies.”

The room held its breath.

I did not.

“We can wait,” I said lightly, lounging back in my chair as though we discussed wine pairings rather than war. “But not long.”

Her gaze flicked to me—impatient, already thinking three moves ahead. I wondered if she knew how magnificent she looked when she was furious at the world.

She frowned. “If she steps from that Citadel, I will cut her throat from ear to ear.”

There it was. That vicious little promise. So like her. So like someone else we both knew.

I dragged my finger across my throat in an exaggerated gesture, then slumped sideways in my chair, eyes closed, mouth open. Dead. A tragic spectacle.

The table remained stiff with tension.

She scowled at me. “You need not make fun.”

I opened one eye. “Have I ever told you how much you sound like Madoc when you talk about murder?” I asked. “Because you do.”

A dangerous comparison. The others waited for her temper to flare. They always expect fury from her.

Instead—she laughed.

Not the sharp, cutting kind. Something warmer. Something meant for me.

“That must be what you like about me.”

I straightened slowly, studying her as though she were a particularly fascinating puzzle. “That you’re terrifying?” I let my voice slip into something languid, indulgent, nearly a purr. “I adore it.”

And I did.

I adored the steel in her spine. The way she spoke of violence not as bluster, but as promise. The way she could threaten a queen and make it sound like inevitability.

Most of all, I adored that she laughed at me when she might have cut me down.

The others returned to their strategizing, but my gaze lingered on her a moment longer. War loomed. Blood would be spilled. Choices would cost us dearly.

And yet—

If she truly meant to carve Lady Nore from ear to ear, I suspected I would be right beside her, admiring the artistry.