The air in the Unseelie Court always seemed to hum with something dark and electric—whispers tangled with deceit, laughter that never quite reached the eyes. Reverie hadn’t been home in weeks, not since her last errand in the mortal realm. The halls still smelled faintly of iron and smoke when she stepped inside, her boots soft against the black marble floor. She’d missed that strange, cold beauty of it all—missed him most of all.

And there he was. Roiben. Standing beneath the fractured glass dome, light slipping through in icy shards that turned his silver hair to something unearthly. But he wasn’t alone.

Kaye was with him—leaning too close, laughter curling from her lips like smoke. She brushed invisible dust from his sleeve, the gesture so casual it burned to look at. Roiben didn’t move away. His expression was unreadable, the way it always was, that perfect stillness that kept anyone from knowing what he truly felt.

Reverie stopped a few paces behind them, her gloved hands curling at her sides. The cold didn’t bite as sharply as the scene before her. She wasn’t jealous often—she’d learned too much in the Court for that—but there was something different about Kaye, something that made her stomach twist.

Roiben finally turned, his gray eyes finding her like they always did, sharp and deliberate. A flicker passed through them—guilt? relief?—before his composure settled again, his voice smooth as winter glass.

“Reverie,” he said, and the sound of her name from his lips almost made her forget the rest of the room existed. Almost.

Kaye straightened, that half-smile faltering just a little as the air seemed to shift. Reverie didn’t look at her—only at him. The king of the Unseelie Court, her consort, standing caught between two worlds that could never fully belong to each other.

And though Reverie’s voice was calm when she finally spoke, there was steel beneath every word. “Did I interrupt something?”