“Hey!” I shove at his shoulder, but he barely moves more than a fraction.
“Feeling a little better now?” he asks, all joking dropped from his expression.
I bite my lip. “I think so?”
“What else is floating around in that head of yours?”
“How do you even address royalty?” I ask.
His brows knit in confusion. “Excuse me?”
“Like, what’s the proper etiquette? I know they’re my parents, but they’re also strangers to me. I can’t walk in like ‘hi mom, hi dad.’ I should treat them like any other royal, right?”
I can see his body shake with barely restrained laughter. “Well, since they’re king and queen, standard protocol is to refer to them as ‘Your Majesty’ or majesties. And you’d bow until they give you permission to rise.”
I nod. “Okay, bow. Your Majesty. Sounds easy enough. Is there anything else?”
He thinks for a moment. “No, I don’t think so.” He pauses a moment before a sly smile blooms on his face. “Although, if we want to get really technical, I should be calling youYour Highness.”
“Excuse me?” I sputter.
“You’re a princess. Therefore, Ishouldbe addressing you formally also.” That smile kicks wider.
“Please don’t,” I beg.
“Oh, I won’t.”
With that he stands, tugging me with him and dragging us back to Puck.
As we crest the hill,I have to shield my eyes against the light reflecting off the city below. It’s all elegance. Pristine whites and creams, accented with varying shades of golds. The city gates ahead of us are even completely gilded and sparkle under themidday sun. The buildings themselves are all rounded and curving, giving off a feeling of whimsy.
A giddy excitement rises up in me at the thoughts of exploring the city. Uncovering little hidden gems. What would it have been like to grow up here? I can’t even imagine living in a place like this. Would I have liked it? Hated it? I know I was fatigued over being in Willowbrook, but it still holds a place in my heart out of the sentimentality of it all. Is that how I would’ve felt about Dawnspire? I try to reel in my thoughts, but I lose my grip on them as they spiral.
“Wow… I’ve never really seen anything like this before. It’s certainly a style choice. It’s like I’ve died and entered the afterlife.”
Bastian chuckles at my observation. “I’ve never thought about it like that, but I definitely see it. It certainly aligns with the perception that the Seelie are constantly trying to reinforce.”
“And what perception is that?” I ask.
“Purity. Goodness.” His face forms a slight grimace.
“Ah yes, in contrast to the Unseelie’sevil,” I say with a teasing flourish of my hands in his direction.
“Alright, brat,” he says with a chuckle with a soft shove at my shoulder from where he sits behind me on Puck. “The sooner we get down there, the sooner I can drop you at thegates to the afterlife,” he says, making me let loose a cackling laugh.
Bastian slowsthe horse to a stop as we approach the gilded gates set into the white marble border wall around the palace. My nerves spike at the sight.
His breath ghosts over my ear as he leans in, causing a shiver to run through me. “I’m fairly certain I won’t be permitted to setfoot through those gates.” I start to open my mouth to protest, but he squeezes my hands on the reins, stopping me. “I’m only saying something now so that you will remain calm if they won’t allow me to accompany you into the palace.” He pauses for a moment, pulling his hand from mine. “And to give you this.”
I hear him rummaging around in one of the saddlebags. Turning my upper body as much as I can manage from atop the horse, I try to get a better view of what he’s looking for. Eventually, he finds it. A dagger, which certainly isn’t helping with the nervousness coursing through my body.
The blade is a thin, gleaming silver steel. The hilt is more elaborate, but only barely. It’s wrapped in obsidian leather, lending to a comfortable hold. The cross guard is made of a silver crescent moon with another at the end of the hilt. I’m not one to admire a weapon, but I will admit, it’s almost a piece of art.
“Where did this come from?” He raises his eyebrow at me as if to say ‘seriously?’“Right, you have your very own war supply chest in your cottage,” I deadpan. He smirks and I can see the amusement twinkle in his eyes. “Why are you giving me one of your daggers? Have you had this with you the entire trip?”
“I don’t want you going in there without a way to protect yourself,” he answers simply.
“Contrary to what I may have led you to believe when we met, you do realize that I have no idea how to use this thing, right?” I hold the knife out away from me as if it were the carcass of an animal. “I barely know how to throw a good punch, and you were the one who showed me that.” I raise a brow.
