“Your enthusiasm is understandable, Your Highness.” Kitarni sweeps her robes out of the way. “Now, we must pay our respects to the queen, and then I’ll leave your brother in your care while I deal with the temple.”
“Of course. Queen Aiyana has been waiting for you.” He pauses, then shoots his brother a look I can’t decipher. “She’s in the throne room and eager to meet the Nicnevin. As are we all.”
They’re definitely doing some of that silent sibling communication, because Bram’s shoulders stiffen slightly before he inclines his head back at us.
Madoc’s eyes narrow and he lets out a sigh. “Perhaps your guards would prefer to wait outside. I’m sure they won’t be needed.”
Kitarni doesn’t hesitate. “Of course. Stay here. We’ll only be a short while.”
Prae and I exchange a glance but don’t say anything. If I know anything about palaces, the walls always have ears.
Madoc looks down at his daughter, expression softening. “Khloe, go find your mother. Tell her your uncle and I will return home in a few hours.”
She nods, offers Kitarni a shy smile and a curtsy, then runs off along the canal, the baby dragonfly wings I hadn’t noticed before fluttering behind her as she runs.
Bram and the high priestess follow Madoc in the direction of yet another gilded set of doors, from behind which, the sound of screaming and angry shouting can be heard. I edge in the same direction, trying to overhear the drama, but before I can get far, a gnome in a frilly apron corners me.
“You’re knights from Elfhame, right?” he demands, looking between Prae and I suspiciously.
Shit. Can’t lie, or he’ll know. “We came from Elfhame,” I confirm.
“Good. I need to know which colour flowers the Nicnevin prefers.” He brandishes a handful of different roses in my face, in all different shades of the rainbow. My gut says that violet is the correct answer, but there’s an unnaturally bright blue hiding towards the back.
Wordlessly I point at the blue, trying my hardest not to smirk as he beams and rushes off.
“Blue! The Nicnevin prefers blue!” He yells his newest discovery so loudly I’m sure my father can hear him across the Endless Sea.
Prae tuts under her breath. “Really?”
I shrug. “Can’t let her forget me.”
Tuning out her sigh, I settle back against the wall and watch in amusement as the group of fae whose magic must be colour—or flower—based start changing the arrangements into various shades of blue. The yelling and screaming from the throne room has ceased—which I hope is a good sign—and fifteen minutes later, Kitarni and the two princes emerge. While the dryad retains her customary calm, the two males wear matching expressions of shocked relief.
The dryad brushes stray petals from her robes, looking exasperated at her own blossoming hair for a second before she continues, “Excellent. Now, I’m off to sort out the temple. Prince Bram, I trust you’re capable of sorting the rest.”
That’s a tactful way of telling him to take over the trial of glamouring Prae. Bram gives Kitarni a half bow in response, which Madoc echoes before she disappears.
“Come on,” Bram says stiffly. “We’ll find what we need on Main Street.”
Prae and I hang back, letting them lead us onto the boat, over the moat of deadly eels, and back into the streets full of regular fae.
“You’re lucky the Queen took news of the Nicnevin’s fever as a good sign,” Madoc murmurs under his breath. “If she hadn’t…”
“Does she always flog florists in the throne room?” Bram looks a little pale.
“Only when they can’t tell her the Nicnevin’s favourite blooms,” Madoc says. “Aiyana does not take failure or surprises well. It is better that she’s prepared; it makes her reactions more manageable.”
“She seemed in a good enough mood,” Bram comments.
“For now,” Madoc murmurs. “Last week, she exiled her entire elite guard when she had a lovers’ tiff with the captain and then dismissed her favourite maid servant for serving her too-hot tea.”
Prae and I share a look. Crazy fucking fae, but I suppose Elatha is no better.
“She can’t seem to decide if she’s excited for Rose’s arrival or furious,” Bram comments.
Madoc nods. “I’d say that’s an accurate assessment, but enough of the queen. Where have youbeen, brother?”
“I was… held captive. Our sister freed me.” Bram’s voice is tight, and Madoc slaps him on the back in apology.
