That was the only conclusion that could be reasonably drawn from her interaction with Emmanuel at the Midsummer gathering she had hosted here, what seemed like forever ago now. He had detected the presence of the Abomination here, he knew that it had prowled her halls, had spilled fae blood within them. What she did not know was how far he would take it.
To suffer a demon meant death for one of her standing. If Titania ever found out... the consequences would be too much to bear. At best, she would die quickly. At worst, it would be decades before she was finally allowed to. Nobody hated the Ashar'ai more than Summer, and none more among them than Titania, after what Lahashael had done to her predecessor, after he had created the vampires.
She spat, and the floor sizzled where her saliva touched it, before she screamed in pure frustration. It had all fallen apart since she'd come to this Glen-cursed place, since she'd been reduced to bickering with Winter and shepherding quicklings. Her chamberlains shrank at the display of her fury, and she stopped, taking in a ragged breath.
There was only one thing for it. Only one thing she could do to survive this mess.
The Paladin had to die, even as she cursed her own soul doing it.
She stalked over to her bedchamber, adjacent to the Autumn Throne, and slammed the door, tears blurring her vision. She had known the human for a long time, now. She respected him, even cared for him.
Which is why, as she scratched out the message on a scrap of parchment, and with a great swell of magic, dispatched it to where she knew Lahashael would find it, she felt a piece of herself die.