“The Nicnevin’s pilgrimage requires her to visit the temple,” Kitarni tries again. “Surely, you’ve heard the blessings Danu has been bestowing upon temples through her? Why would you not want that for your city?”
“We do, your worship.” He bows again. “But we swore to the king that no one would enter or leave.”
Kitarni swings to look back at me and at Lore beside me. The redcap holds up a dagger, silently offering to kill both of them and be done with it, and the dryad shakes her head.
“I will speak with the king on his return.” Her tone makes it clear how she expects the conversation to go. “Any news of how his hunt—”
“Lady Nicnevin!”
Oh great, it’s Máel again, and on her heels is her sister.
I don’t need to fail at charming the heirs to the summer throne today. I’m already worried about Jaro’s and Drystan’s continued absence. I’ve not seen either of them since last night, and Bree has taken off to search the halls for his father.
Even Bram is gone, searching for news of our brother, Dare, and his mate in his fox form.
Now I’m supposed to play nice with these princesses?
“We missed you at breakfast, my lady,” Ciara says, bowing low as soon as we’re close enough to hold a conversation. “The tutor we hired for you is awaiting us in the palace library, if you’d like to meet him.”
“And the entire court is throwing a banquet tonight to welcome you.” Máel grins like that’s a good thing, but I’m just confused.
“I thought we were welcomed last night.”
“Not thoroughly enough, apparently,” Lore comments, dropping his cap onto my head where it turns into a wide-brimmed sunhat.
“Dismiss the under fae, Nicnevin,” Máel continues. “He’s positively uncivilised.”
“My Guard stays with me.” And I’m already sick of the attitude she has towards everyone around me. “If your father is so concerned for our safety that he’s ordered his soldiers to keep us prisoner in this palace, then surely you understand the need.”
Lore comes up behind me, kissing my neck. Máel averts her gaze, lips turning down in disgust, but her sister can’t seem to look away.
“It’s—”
I cut Máel off with a look. “We are not friends, princess. I do not need your opinion, nor did I ask for it, so keep it to yourself.” I turn to her sister. “Lead the way to this tutor.”
It’s not until we’ve taken several steps away from the gate that Máel bows stiffly and excuses herself.
“You must forgive my sister,” Ciara says, leading us back into the cool, white-washed corridors. “She can’t help our upbringing. There are not many under fae in the summer palace.”
“That’s what makes it so boring,” Lore quips, and Kitarni suppresses a snort.
“I’m aware of the Summer Court’s attitudes to our kind,” the high priestess admits. “Eero has never made any secret of his distaste.”
“Máel hangs off his every word,” Ciara sighs.
I stay quiet. I’m not sure I trust this princess any more than the stuck-up rude one, for all that she may claim to be different.
“I think it’s nice that you’re so open about your relationship with an under fae. When the Nicnevin had an exclusively high fae Guard, it just gave fae like my father an excuse to believe themselves better than everyone else.”
“What made you choose to believe otherwise?” Kitarni asks, curiously.
Ciara’s expression turns guarded. “Faith in the Goddess,” she answers smoothly. “She doesn’t have favourites, so why should we?”
“Indeed.” Kitarni seems mollified, and I suppose it’s not like Ciara can lie. “Besides, isn’t Prince Dare’s mate under fae?”
Ciara stiffens. “Yes. Yvaine is my cousin on my mother’s side, a banshee, since she takes after her father’s side. She’s one of the few under fae courtiers, and only by virtue of her mother’s nobility.”
So we’re technically related? Biting my lip, I can’t help but soften a little towards this princess. Perhaps her mother’s ties to the under fae are why she seems so much less abrasive and prejudiced than Máel.
