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"Oh, look," the faerie whispered. "There she is. See how everyone hangs back, pretending they aren't dying to ask her to prove the rumors."
Val stood up. "I'll ask her."
Before the honey-haired faerie could protest or applaud, Val threaded her way through the Folk. Mabry wore a gown of palest cream, her green-and-brown hair piled up on her head with a comb made from the inside of a shell. It looked strangely familiar to Val, but she couldn't place it.
"That's a pretty comb," she said, since she'd been staring at it.
Mabry drew it from her hair, letting the locks tumble down her back, and gave Val a wide, lush smile. "I know you. The servant Ravus has become overfond of. Take this little trinket if you like. Perhaps your hair will grow into it."
Val ran her fingers over the cool surface of the shell, but she was sure that a gift delivered with such a barb didn't deserve any thanks.
Mabry reached out a finger and touched the side of Val's mouth. "I see you've had a taste of what your skin has been drinking."
Val started. "How did you know?"
"It is my habit to know things," Mabry said, turning to walk off before Val got to ask a single thing she wanted to know.
Val tried to follow Mabry, but a faerie with hair of long weeds and a smile full of wicked laughter interposed himself. "My lovely, let me devour your beauty."
"You've got to be joking," Val said, trying to push past him.
"Not in the least," he said, and suddenly, strangely, Val could feel desire twist in her belly.
Her face went hot. "I can make even your dreams be of want."
A hand caught her throat and a deep, rough voice spoke low and close to her ear. "And now what is your training good for?"
"Ravus?" Val asked, although she knew his voice.
The other faerie slunk away, but Ravus kept his fingers at her neck. "It's dangerous here. You should be more careful. Now I'd like you to at least try and break free."
"You never taught me—," she began, but then she stopped, ashamed of the way her voice sounded like whining. He was teaching her now. After all, he was giving her time to think what the possible moves might be. It wasn't as though he was choking her. He was giving her time to win.
Val relaxed, pressing her back to his chest and grinding against him. Startled, he loosed his grasp and she pulled free. He clutched her arm, but she spun around and pressed her mouth to his.
His lips were rough, chapped. She felt the sting of fangs against her bottom lip. He made a sharp sound in the back of his throat and closed his eyes, mouth opening under hers. The smell of him—of cold, damp stone—made her head swim. One kiss slid into another and it was perfect, was exactly right, was real.
He pulled back abruptly, turning his head so that he wasn't looking at her. "Effective," he said.
"I thought maybe you wanted me to kiss you. Sometimes I thought I could see it." Her heart was thundering in her chest and her cheeks were scalding, but she was pleased that she sounded calm.
"I didn't want you…" Ravus said. "I didn't want you to see it."
She almost laughed. "You look so shocked. Hasn't anyone ever kissed you before?" Val wanted to do it again, but she didn't dare.
His voice was cool. "On rare occasions."
"Did you like it?"
"Then or now?"
Val sucked in a breath, let it out with a sigh. "Both. Either."
"I liked it," he said softly. It was then that she remembered he could not lie.
She ran her hand over his cheek. "Kiss me back."
Ravus caught her fingers, clutched them so hard that they hurt. "Enough," he said. "Whatever game you are playing at, end it now."
