Page 38 of My Fae Lady

Rook Manor lit the torches for me. Piles of treasures sat on either side of the magical stream. At the center of the cavern, I saw the problem. The Bartons—the old ones who were fully fae—had attempted to manufacture one of their orderly Seelie fountains for the magic to inhabit. Instead, it had defiantly jetted off around the marble structure, disappearing under a bed of rock into a sealed room.

I could demand the house unseal the room for me to tend to it better, but that was a problem for another time.

I sensed there was another magical creature held within its walls. I felt their slowing heartbeat, which was not unusual. Rook Manor often trapped large predatory animals in order to consume them slowly to further power itself. It was as Unseelie as I was. The house was attempting to fix the problem on its own, as it should.

I’d leave it to that for now.

I found what I was looking for leaning up against the base of the fountain, covered in dust and cobwebs.

The Seelie Scales. I shook them clean, and the tarnished silver gleamed in the torchlight. It would need some tending to, but from what I knew of Giselle, she’d enjoy that part.

Giselle was standing when I returned and wearing her workman’s apron over her dress. “Jeremy just left,” she said, eyes bouncing from me to the set of scales in my hands.

“Who is Jeremy?”

“The boy we met in the woods.”

“Did you spit in his pies?”

She snorted at me. “No. In fact, I ended up giving him three meat pies and a promise for more after he scares the mischievous brownies out of the gardens in the back . . . I also gave him your top hat. I liked the way it made him smile. I hope that’s alright.”

I set the artifact down on an end table, and the measuring plates tipped this way and that. I wasn’t at all surprised that she’d been overtaken by her generous nature.

She squinted at the treasure. “What in the goddesses' names is this?”

I grinned at her. I couldn’t help myself. “What does it look like?”

She limped closer, then retrieved her lens from the front pocket of her apron. “Well, it looks like . . . But it couldn’t be,” she stammered.

My grin went wolfish. “But it is.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You mean to tell me these are the actual Seelie Scales? The ones blessed by the goddesses?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you,” I said.

Her eyes rounded in awe. She aimed her lens at it, studying how blue light bent vibrantly around the silver platform. “But . . . No, but this can’t be. They’re in a museum. I’ve seen them in their exhibit.”

“A trickster made a replica of the set in the museum and swapped it out centuries ago. Since the fools insisted on displaying it in the human realm where magic is inert, no one can sense that it isn’t genuine.”

“You can’t be serious? This is a renowned Seelie treasure. Fae go on pilgrimages just to see its exhibit. And you mean to tell me it’s a fake?” She sniggered. The way she beamed with amusement had me wondering if there wasn’t some Unseelie in her after all. “Why do such a thing?”

“For the same reason we like to snatch up children and replace them with a changeling from time to time. It amuses us.”

“I just . . . I don’t understand how you even knew how to find this in here,” she said, exasperated. “And that archway. How is it that you suddenly know so much about House?”

I fidgeted with the loose cuff of my rolled-up shirtsleeve. “It’s like I told you. I am the Lord of Rook Manor and always have been.”

Fifteen

Giselle

⊱❀⊰

It took me a moment. Sylvan turning out to be no better than Douglas, declaring himself the lord of the manor, was bad enough. But it didn’t explain how he had instantly forged a connection to House and opened the door. How he had known about the archway and the Scales hidden in the depths of the manor.

The Lord of Rook Manor and always have been.

Always have been.