I spot Lord Roiben standing near an apple tree, his half-moon sword gleaming in a polished sheath. His companion, Kaye, is in a green dress very close to the color of her skin. Queen Annet is speaking with Lord Severin. Randalin is drinking cup after cup of wine. All of them seem subdued. They have seen a curse unfold, and if they are still here, it is because they intend to fight on the morrow.

Only one of us can tell them lies. I recall Cardan’s words to me the last time we spoke to the rulers of the low Courts.

But tonight it is not lies that I need. And it is not precisely the truth, either.

At the sight of me with Madoc and the rulers of the Court of Teeth, a hush goes over the gathered company. All those inkdrop eyes look in my direction. All those hungry, beautiful faces, turning to me as though I were a wounded lamb in a world of lions.

“Lords and ladies and denizens of Elfhame,” I speak into the silence. Then I hesitate. I am as unused to giving speeches as anyone could be. “As a child in the High Court, I grew up with wild, impossible wonder tales—of curses and monsters. Tales that even here, in Faerie, were too incredible to be believed. But now our High King is a serpent, and we are all plunged into a wonder tale.

“Cardan destroyed the crown because he wanted to be a different kind of ruler and to have a different kind of reign. At least in one way, that has already been accomplished. Madoc and Queen Suren of the Court of Teeth laid down their arms. We met and hammered out the terms of a truce.”

A low murmur goes through the crowd.

I do not look to my side. Madoc must not like that I am characterizing this alliance as my triumph, and Lord Jarel and Lady Nore must hate my treating their daughter as though she is the member of the Court of Teeth owed deference.

I go on. “I have invited them here tonight to feast with us, and tomorrow we will all meet on the field, not to battle, but to tame the serpent and end the threat to Elfhame. Together.”

There is scattered, uncertain applause.

With my whole heart, I wish Cardan was here. I can almost imagine him lounging on a chair, giving me pointers on speechmaking. It would have annoyed me so much, and now, thinking of it, there’s a cold pit of longing in my stomach.

I miss him, and the pain of it is a yawning chasm, one into which I yearn to let myself fall.

I lift my goblet, and all around, goblets and glasses and horns are raised. “Let us drink to Cardan, our High King, who sacrificed himself for his people. Who broke the hold of the Blood Crown. Let us drink to those alliances that have proved to be as firm as the bedrock of the isles of Elfhame. And let us drink to the promise of peace.”

When I tip back my goblet, everyone drinks with me. It seems as though something has shifted in the air. I hope it’s enough.

“A fine speech, daughter,” Madoc says. “But nowhere in it was my promised reward.”

“To make you first among my councilors? And yet already you lecture me.” I fix him with a steady look. “Until we have the serpent bridled, our deal is not yet struck.”

He frowns. I do not wait for him to argue the point but step away and go to a small knot of the Folk from the Court of Teeth.

“Lady Nore.” She looks surprised that I’ve addressed her, as though it ought to be presumption on my part. “You have not perhaps met Lady Asha, mother to the High King.”

“I suppose not,” she agrees. “Although—”

I take her arm and steer her to where Lady Asha stands, surrounded by her favorite courtiers. Lady Asha looks alarmed by my approach and even more alarmed when I begin speaking.

“I have heard that you wish for a new role in the Court,” I say to her. “I am thinking of making you an ambassador to the Court of Teeth, so it seemed useful for you to meet Lady Nore.”

There is absolutely no truth to what I’m saying. But I want Lady Asha to know that I have heard of her plotting and that if she crosses me, I am capable of sending her away from the comforts she prizes most. And it seems like a fitting punishment for both of them to be afflicted with each other.

“Would you really force me so far from my son?” she asks.

“If you’d prefer to remain here and have a hand in caring for the serpent,” I say, “you have only to say so.”

Lady Asha looks as though what she’d really prefer is to stab me in the throat. I turn away from her and Lady Nore. “Enjoy your conversation.” Maybe they will. They both hate me. That gives them at least one thing in common.

A blur of dishes is brought out by servants. Tender stalks of fern, walnuts wrapped in rose petals, wine bottles choked with herbal infusions, tiny birds roasted whole with honey. As I stare out at the Folk, it seems as though the gardens are spinning around me. A strange sense of unreality intrudes. Dizzily, I look around for one of my sisters, for someone from the Court of Shadows. Even Fand.

“Your Majesty,” comes a voice. It is Lord Roiben at my elbow. My chest constricts. I am not sure I am able to project authority to him, of all people, right now.

“It was good of you to stay,” I say. “After Cardan broke the crown, I wasn’t sure you would.”

He nods. “I never cared much for him,” he says, staring down at me with his gray eyes, pale as river water. “It was you who persuaded me to pledge to the crown in the first place, and you who brokered peace after the Undersea broke their treaty.”

By killing Balekin. I can hardly forget.

“And I might have fought for you regardless if for no other reason than a mortal Queen of Faerie cannot help but delight many people I hold dear and annoy many people I dislike. But after what Cardan did in the great hall, I understand why you were willing to take mad gamble after mad gamble to put him on the throne, and I would have fought until the breath left my body.”

I never expected such a speech from him. It grounds me to the spot.

Roiben touches a bracelet at his wrist, with woven green threads running through it. No, not thread. Hair. “He was willing to break the Blood Crown and trust in the loyalty of his subjects instead of compel it. He’s the true High King of Faerie.”

I open my mouth to reply when, across the expanse of grass, I see Nicasia in a shimmering gown the silver of fish scales weaving between courtiers and rulers.

And I notice Roiben’s consort, Kaye, moving toward her.

“Um,” I say. “Your, um, girlfriend is about to—”

He turns to look just in time for both of us to see Kaye punch Nicasia right in the face. She stumbles into another courtier and then hits the ground. The pixie shakes her hand as though she hurt her knuckles.

Nicasia’s selkie guards run toward her. Roiben immediately begins moving through the crowd, which parts for him. I try to follow, but Madoc blocks my way.

“A queen does not race toward a fight like a schoolgirl,” he says, grabbing hold of my shoulder. I am not so distracted by annoyance not to see the opportunity before me. I pull out of his grip, taking three strands of his hair with me.

A redheaded knight shoves her way between Kaye and Nicasia’s selkie guards. I don’t know her, but by the time Roiben gets there, it seems clear that everyone is threatening to duel everyone else.

“Get out of my way,” I growl at Madoc, then take off at a run. I ignore anyone who tries to speak with me. Maybe I look ridiculous, holding up my gown to my knees, but I don’t care. I certainly look ridiculous when I tuck something into my cleavage.