The Green Lady looks down at us, an eyebrow arched.
“That’s…” Whatever Samson means to say, his words die on his lips. His eyes are wide as the moon, color draining from his pale cheeks.
“Lady Alyth,” the glaistig says, dipping her head in respect. Then the Green Lady’s gaze slides to Samson. She narrows her eyes. “What manner of half breed is this?”
I bite back the sting of those words. The Green Lady respects my father and my position, but I can never let myself forget that to many fae, I will always be lesser.
“I, er,” Samson says.
“So eloquent,” I say coolly, not letting my endearment for him show in front of the glaistig, who would mark it as a weakness.
“Green. Person?” Samson’s eyes shoot to the Green Lady’s goatlike legs. To all the humans celebrating tonight, she looks like another costumed player. But Samson can see her for what she truly is now that heno longer wears the necklace.
I explain quickly and then add, “The Green Lady is a glaistig. Behave.”
Samson swallows. Hard. He may not entirely understand what a glaistig is, but he can tell from my tone that this is serious.
“We aren’t sure what his heritage is,” I tell the Green Lady.
I feel a pang of sympathy for him. I may not have had my father around to instruct me, but I’ve been surrounded by other Leths who’ve helped guide me, a human grandmother who knew and respected the legends, books and resources, and even some kind fae. It must be disorienting for him, despite his constant show of confidence.
But there are more important matters at hand. I keep my attention pinned on the glaistig. She would never have interrupted me unless it was important. “Was there something else?”
The Green Lady nods once, solemn. “The one you watch for.”
I asked her to tell me when the king consort arrived.
She points to the south end of the hall, but she makes no move to get out of our way. She keeps her gaze on Samson. “I have never seen a kind like him before.”
“That’s me, all special and unique.” Samson tries to make a jest of it, which is incredibly imbecilic. If the Green Lady thinks he’s mocking her…
Her jaw tightens.
I grip Samson’s arm, digging my fingers into his elbow in a way I know hurts. Let him focus on that pain rather than experience worse.
The Green Lady doesn’t even glance at me. “He has more power than he displays.”
I whip my head to Samson, whose eyes somehow go even wider. “I don’t have any power!” he protests, which is patently false. But perhapshe just doesn’t know what type of power he has or how to tap into it.
He’s not an idiot; he’s just ignorant, I remind myself, which is really me saying he’s not lying to me. What would my life have been like if my father had never told me of the power I had or how to use it? The arsehole who sired me didn’t do much, but at least he let me know who and what I am. Perhaps one of Samson’s parents is not truly his biological parent; that lie would have repercussions for Samson to deal with now.
I dip my head low to the Green Lady, who returns the polite gesture before melting back into the crowd. “Come on,” I tell Samson, dragging him toward the corner where the glaistig said Darnley was. “We need to see what the king consort is about. Or would you rather argue with a being who would gleefully water the trees in her forest with your blood?”
“What, literally?” Samson asks, craning his neck around.
“Yes.” I can always tell when someone didn’t take their fairy tales seriously. The legends are not bedtime stories; they are warnings.
“That just doesn’t seem good for the trees, all I’m saying,” Samson says conversationally. “Water is definitely better than blood for growing things.”
“I thought you lived in the city. Do a lot of gardening there?” I snap. “Besides, I assure you that the Green Lady doesn’t care.”
“Just pointing out facts. You do like threatening bodily harm,” Samson says. He smiles down at me as if he doesn’t believe my threats. I think it’s easier for him to bluster now that the Green Lady isn’t towering over him.
I don’t like that.
I don’t like that he thinks she’s scarier than me.
But I do like the easy way we talk, the teasing, the sparkle in his eyes.
