“I’m not,” I insist. “Really. Well, not entirely. I am a bit frightened, but not… of you. Of my situation, I suppose.” I snap my jaw shut before I ramble on even more about howunafraidof him I am.
Why am I being so forthcoming?
He tilts his head to the side, considering. “Well, in that case, would you show me where you came through? Maybe I can help remedy yoursituation, as you put it.”
Even though it feels like he really is trying to help me, I still have the feeling that I shouldn’t go with him. That’s what that feeling is, right? “I really wouldn’t want to be a bother. You can return to the celebrations. I’m sure the royal family would hate that a lowly human stole away one of their guests. Thatiswhat this place is, right? The palace for the Unseelie Court?”
His eyebrows raise in intrigue, and I swear I see a flash of approval in his eyes. “You’ve assumed correctly. But what do you know about the royal family?”
The firm tone of his voice has the hairs on the back of my neck rising. “Oh, well nothing specific. I’ve heard the legends and stories, like all the humans in my realm. That the realm is divided between the two courts and their, umm… temperaments?” The word comes out as a question because I’d rather not anger him by saying his court is the ‘evil’ one. “But really I don’t know anything about them otherwise.”
He takes a moment to study my face, assessing if I’m lying, I assume. I shrink back under his scrutiny, the bark of the tree digging into my back. “Then take it from someone who is rather well acquainted with the family—they wouldn’t mind me disappearing for a bit. Some fresh air will do me good anyway.”
“You do realize we’re already outside, right?” I offer with a smirk of my own.
I can see the twitch at the corner of his lip telling me he’s holding back a smile.
Ah, so hedoeshave a sense of humor.
“Do you work for the royal family?” I ask, curiosity loosening my tongue and taking over my actions now that my fight or flight reflex has relaxed.
I can see his jaw clench before he speaks. “In a manner of speaking. Do you always ask so many questions?” he asks with a tilt of his head.
“Only when I’m about to wander off with a strange male that I’ve never met before,” I say, lifting both my eyebrows as if to sayyou’re that stranger. But he is right. I am asking a lot of questions. But it’s also not every day you find yourself in Faerie confronted by a real, living Fae. I’m not letting this opportunity to hear from the source pass me by.
“I suppose I shall make sure you don’t find me a ‘strange male’ as you so put it. I’ll allow you one final question before we head out.” He crosses his arms over his chest and watches me expectantly.
I barely hold back my snort.
How generous of him to allow me one more question.
I internally roll my eyes.
The problem here though is that I have so many questions rolling around in my brain. I don’t know how I’m supposed to pickonlyone. But I suppose there is one that keeps jumping to the forefront of my mind.
“What’s—” I stop myself. As I’ve relaxed throughout our encounter, I almost forgot I was speaking with someone of the Fae. If Aunt Fleur’s done one smart thing while raising me, it was that she ingrained in me the rules and traditions of the Fae and how best to stay in their good graces—should I have ever encountered one. It seems those teachings will come in handy here. I can practically hear her voice in my head reciting the main points.
One must always be respectful to the Fae. They can have bad tempers and will avenge even the smallest of perceived slights.
It might be a little too late for that one. I’ve not been rude… but I also haven’t been the most compliant. And I also nearly maimed him when he first approached.
Never thank a Fae. They will see that as you now owing them a favor in return and youneverwant to owe the Fae a favor.
Lastly, never ask a Fae for their name. Name’s hold power in Faerie and power is the greatest currency one can hold.
I clear my throat and start again. “What shall I call you? I suppose you’ll be less strange if I have a name to associate you with.”
He gives me a knowing smirk, realizing I’d caught myself from making a huge mistake in asking for his name straight up. “You may call me Bastian, little human,” he practically purrs.
“That’s not my name,” I growl with a huff. My hand twitches at my side, itching to bring the blade up.
Respectful, Olivia. Be respectful.
He leans in close to my space, forcing me to retreat back into the tree. “Oh? Then what, pray tell, shall I call you, if not little human? Thisiswhat you are.” That smirk is back on his face, likely because he’s trying to get under my skin. It’s working. And even worse, he knows it.
I hesitate before I answer. I’m not telling him Olivia because that’s one step closer to my full name and I’d rather avoid that. And Livi? That feels childish. It’s the nickname I’ve grown up with.
“You can call me Liv,” I say with a lift to my chin, which might have been a mistake with how close it places both of our faces, barely a breath apart. It’s then that I’m surrounded by his scent. An overwhelming whiff of the evergreen trees from Winter Solstice and lemons that makes my head spin. I really need to drink more water if the mere scent of this male is making me lightheaded.
