Page 48 of My Fae Lady

“House is upset you have laid a claim and is forcing us together until you concede it is mine. What more is there to understand?”

“I think you have it backwards,” I answered absently. The magic swirling down the length of the hall was a storm of reds and purples: wild magic. Pure, unbridled wild magic. This wasn’t a mess caused by conflicting Seelie and Unseelie impulses. This was House, acting completely independently.

“The manor is not yours, and it never has been. Even by the laws you Seelie and humans favor. Or have you forgotten that you are now my wife and therefore your dowry is mine?”

The wild power flared, and though there was no classification chart to help me identify the moods of magic, I felt certain House had been excited. “Say that again.”

“What? Your dowry is mine?”

The magic didn’t react. “No. The part before that.”

Behind me, the Unseelie let out a sigh. “The manor isn’t yours. Seelie and human laws are ridiculous. You are my wife—”

“That’s it!” I shouted as the magic flared again. “House is reacting when you call me your wife. It likes to hear that, husband.”

Another swirl of magic confirmed my hypothesis. I spun around. “House won’t follow orders because of our conflicting claims, but all this locking us in together has to do with our marriage.” I turned again, facing the wall this time, and rested a palm flat against it. “House, it is a paper marriage only, meant to keep meddling humans out of your way. We have no need or desire to be close to each other.”

The room shuddered, and the walls tilted inward the slightest amount, not quite shrinking the size of the room.

“I don’t think it liked that, wife.”

The walls straightened again.

“But why?” My voice was nearly a wail at this point, and I didn’t care. “Why should it matter?”

“If you accepted my gifts, it wouldn’t matter.” Sylvan flung out an arm toward the Scales and cufflinks. “Take them, leave Rook Manor, and neither of us will have to see each other ever again.”

The floor buckled, bouncing Sylvan right off the settee and forcing me to brace myself in the arch to the hallway in order not to join him on the ground. Before I could point out that House liked his comment even less than mine, Sylvan growled, the low sound filling the room.

He raked his claws over the floorboards, scraping curls of wood from their surface. “She is an intruder!”

“I am your wife!”

With an abrupt snap of magic that even I felt, the floor underneath Sylvan split open, and he fell into darkness. The floor reassembled itself before I could see where it had sent him, and I was once more alone in the sitting room.

Not wanting to test House’s limits, I didn’t ask for my workroom, merely pulled out my lens and magicked tweezers and got to work inspecting the cufflinks. Something that protected the wearer from fae tricks could be very useful.

I had worked out the base layer of enchantment on the cufflinks by the time hunger made my stomach rumble. I reached automatically for a snack on the side table, but House hadn’t laid one out. I slipped my tools—and the cufflinks—into my apron pocket and rose. “I suppose I must join my husband for the meal?”

The faelights glittering at me from the hall implied the answer was yes. I made my way out of the sitting room and found myself at the door to the dining room within a few steps. Sylvan wasn’t there yet, and I took a moment to study the large table filling the space. I rarely used the formal dining room when alone. It was only when Father was home that we ate at that long table.

A pang of longing hit me. Father had never truly understood my magical tinkerings, as he called my experiments; his magic was too abundant. He didn’t need to identify the precise angles spells met to achieve certain outcomes; he simply willed his power to do what he wanted. But despite that divide, he had understood me on a deeper level. My curiosity came from him, but while I wanted to hide away in Rook Manor with my artifacts, he burned to explore the world.

I didn’t begrudge him his wanderings. He had let me hide away in Faerie ever since Mother had died, never pressuring me to marry or visit Alidra unless I desired. But was it truly selfish to wish he would interrupt his travels long enough to have a meal with me every few years? He used to stay at Rook Manor for an entire week at least every other year or so. What had he found on this latest trip that had kept him from remembering his daughter for over seven years?

If Sylvan succeeded in wresting the manor from me, perhaps I’d hunt down my father. Then I could get him to explain exactly when and why our family had claimed Rook Manor in the first place. And why we had added injury to insult by stealing Sylvan’s wings as well.

Pulling myself out of my reverie, and reminding myself that Sylvan would not win, because House was as much mine as his, I shook my head. “What about the breakfast nook instead, House? It’s cozier.”

The room shifted around me, and a moment later, the dining room had been replaced with the small, informal room that was usually just off the kitchen. Large windows let in the dappled light from the forest on three sides, and a heavy circular table, the dark surface marred with stains and scuffs from years of use, filled the space.

Usually, four mismatched chairs surrounded the table. Today there was only one.

I sighed. “When will my husband be joining us?”

The ceiling opened, dropping Sylvan into the room with a splat. He was sopping wet and cursing up a storm. A stalk of pondweed hung over his pointed ear.

“Is there a pond inside the manor, or does House’s influence extend into the woods?”