The throne room was packed. Loud murmurs of conversation rose up to the vaulted ceilings. Fae from all four nations mingled together for the first time in over a generation.
The throne itself was empty, waiting for the guest of honor.
Skylar slipped between the chattering fae. So many of them wore big smiles, holding goblets of a deep red, sweet-smelling wine. They’d clink their glasses, laughing joyously.
Malus had always said that Winter Mountain was a prosperous nation and part of his conquest was sharing that prosperity with the others. Skylar could now see that they didn’t need or want that prosperity. They already had their own and his conquest had only stifled it.
In an instant, the chatter stopped.
Skylar turned to the throne, a smile tugging at his lips.
He couldn’t get close to Illyra. Any interaction that appeared “too friendly” and the watchful eyes of Theros and Olive might take it the wrong way.