Page 10 of My Fae Lady

The dishes on the table rattled, and I imagined Rook Manor as a child stomping his foot. Then, to my relief, everything disappeared, including the fork in Lord Sylvan's hand. A moment later, two porcelain bowls appeared, one in front of each of us.

Lord Sylvan stared at the new arrival before him, and it was his turn to be horrified. “What is this? Pond scum?”

I lifted my spoon, ladled a tiny sip into the concavity, and brought it to my lips. “If it were, I should think it would be a familiar meal for you. But as we are not scrounging in the forest, no. It is asparagus soup.”

“This is not a meal.”

“It is the first course. And unless you demonstrate some level of civilized behavior, we won't make it to the later courses.” I sipped my soup. “Only fill your spoon halfway and do not slurp.”

We locked gazes, and he looked away first. The glint in his eye, however, warned me not to rejoice in my victory too soon. He didn't pick up his spoon, instead lowering his entire face to the bowl and then . . . well, slurping was too tame a word.

I didn't have to ask; Rook Manor whisked his bowl of soup away. A plate—a cheap, robust one of the sort given to children—holding a single slice of dry toast replaced the soup. I noticed the spoon in my hand had transformed into a fork and looked at my own place setting. A plate of chocolate torte sat in front of me. I smiled, spearing a bite of the decadent dessert while Lord Sylvan looked on.

I took my time, placing the morsel in my mouth and slowly sliding out the tines of the fork. I let the chocolate melt on my tongue. Then I dabbed at my lips with the napkin. I looked at Lord Sylvan once more and didn’t hide my satisfaction. “Children who don't follow the rules don't get a sweet.”

I finished another bite of torte before he recovered enough to surge to his feet. “I will not be treated like a child who gets sent to bed without supper.”

My eyes narrowed, but I didn't try to hide the flash of brilliant emerald that betrayed my mood. He didn’t want to be treated like a child? “Then don't behave like one.”

He braced his hands on the table, looming over it. “I've played your silly dress-up game long enough. Return my proper clothes to me. I'll stay in my tree until the time has come to sign your blasted papers.”

The bargain magic between us pulled tight. I gasped, the fork falling from my fingers. Across from me, Lord Sylvan’s talons dug into the table. I only experienced the echo, the power focused on him. Slivers of wood drifted to the ground, and the Unseelie lord dropped back into his chair.

“It would seem,” I said slowly, “that even the bargain knows those clothes are anything but proper. You agreed to do what it takes to convince the Seelie and humans who might object to my marriage that you are a gentleman. You can’t hide in your tree. We don’t have any time to waste.”

My heart beat faster. The bargain magic would keep Lord Sylvan from running away, but it couldn’t change who he was. I had so little time to transform him, but we would get nowhere if I continued to push tonight. “I’ll ask the house to prepare a room for you.”

Lord Sylvan slumped in his chair, his eyes closed, his breath hissing out. I remembered the awful scars on his back, the injuries from long ago that still needed to heal.

“We’ll resume our efforts first thing tomorrow,” I said. “Tonight, you may dine alone in your room and rest.”

His eyes opened a mere slit, his teeth bared in a grimace that might have been pain or a threat to tear me to shreds that he could hardly follow through on at present.

I stood up and went to the door. I could summon a tray with my own supper elsewhere. Best to leave this fae to his pain; he wouldn’t want my pity. “Good evening, Lord Sylvan.”

⊱❀⊰

I retreated to my rooms, not wanting to risk crossing paths with my guest in the halls later. House had a platter of glazed ham and roasted vegetables waiting for me in the sitting room, and it occurred to me that Rook Manor hadn’t used magic this profligately in years. I ignored the food, rushing through the elegantly appointed sitting room and directly into the spartan workroom where I conducted my magical experiments.

I snatched the glass pane sitting atop the plain ashwood workbench and called up a trickle of power. My human heritage meant I didn’t have the magical reserves of a full fae, my abilities limited to little more than summoning lights and encouraging plants to grow infinitesimally faster than normal. That was why I collected fae artifacts. One didn’t need much magic to use them.

This particular bit of glass had once been part of an enchanted mirror, but I had removed it, nudging the flows of power until it became a scrying tool that allowed me to see all forms of magic, not just the Seelie kind. Holding it in front of my face, I slowly spun around, studying every direction, including the ceiling and floor.

There was the familiar strand of ice-blue Seelie power that had appeared several years ago, deep in the heart of the house below my feet. Wild magic, flickering with reds and purples, twined around it, feeding off it. Then there was the deep green and rich brown of the Unseelie power that shaped the wild magic, built into every particle of Rook Manor.

Unsurprisingly, the Unseelie power was stronger than I had ever seen it, Lord Sylvan’s presence enough to stir it to wakefulness. What I hadn’t expected, however, was the surging strength of the wild magic. It flared when it ran into the other strands of power, a battle I still couldn’t understand. The Unseelie magic held it back, but not in a way that made sense.

Keeping my enchanted pane of glass directed toward the floor, I brushed my hand against the wall. “Is the Unseelie magic strengthening you?”

I wasn’t sure how the house fed off that source of Seelie magic hidden in its depths. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get anywhere close to whatever room that was. Still, I could see it converting the Seelie power into raw, unfettered wild magic. I didn’t see that happening to the Unseelie power Lord Sylvan had brought with him into Rook Manor.

Instead, the wild magic had simply multiplied.

The Unseelie had always been closer to the wild magic that made Faerie what it was. I wondered if Lord Sylvan would understand the flows of Unseelie magic, be able to interpret them for me. Then I banished the thought. I would not betray my home’s weakness to him. Especially not when his very presence granted the house strength.

I looked over at the power cache I had tracked down just last month. The large cabochon sapphire could hold massive amounts of magic, and I had hoped to make a reservoir the house could tap, much as it currently fed off that mysterious source of Seelie power. So far, though, I hadn’t figured out how to realign the spells in the gem to make it draw ambient wild magic into itself automatically. If I couldn’t make the cache self-sustaining, I’d need months to imbue it with enough wild magic to feed the house for a bare few days.

But maybe I didn’t need it to attract wild magic. I pulled the feather I had claimed earlier from my pocket and set it next to the sapphire. Maybe if I filled the cache with Unseelie power, that would be enough to trigger the same surge in wild magic as Lord Sylvan’s presence in the house.