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“We appreciate your generosity, Lord Greyson.” Mistress Milana moved around Lord Moritz to offer Greyson a deep curtsey with a flutter of her lashes, and Lady Lyra the slightest of dips. “Your hospitality is renowned. Without it we would be at a loss.”

She was a naiad based on the feel and shimmery quality of her magic. Her beauty, though pleasant, struck me as thin. Her slender build and height gave her a graceful appearance, but nothing could hide the tightness of her thin mouth she eyed Lady Lyra surreptitiously. Probably realizing how sour she looked, Mistress Milana hid her face behind a fluttering fan that matched her worn but gaudy lavender gown. The movement drew attention to her unusually pale blue eyes.

Lady Lyra smiled warmly at the group, regardless. “Welcome to our home. May you be at peace beneath our roof.” She graciously motioned to the table. “Once the last of our guests arrive, we can begin our meal.” None of her manner or wording hinted at the tension buffeting my senses. Waves of instant dislike bounced chaotically between Lady Lyra and Mistress Milana, burning the air.

Lord Greyson caught his wife’s hand and brought it to his face so he could kiss her fingers and whispered, “My apologies for the guests, love. Lord Moritz is sponsoring Master Nerio’s bid for the throne, and the council wishes for us to host them until a trial of virtue and skill can be devised.”

A flicker of horror brushed over me from Lady Lyra’s direction. I glanced over just in time to see her grimace at Greyson before composing herself.

Master Nerio appeared reluctant to join the gathering fae around the table, surveying us all warily. He looked very similar to his mother, with medium-brown hair and pale blue eyes. He shared her long slender features and thin nose.

“Come join us, lad,” Lord Moritz prompted. He motioned for Master Nerio to approach, whipping his ornamented walking stick ahead of him before tapping it dramatically on the tiled floor peeking between the rugs. “Make your bows to the lord and lady of the house.”

Master Nerio’s ire spiked toward the faun. The change made me flinch, despite the lack of alteration in the high fae’s blank expression. The intensity of his emotions made his control all the more impressive as he crossed the room and bowed to both Lord Greyson and Lady Lyra with perfectly appropriate depth. “I appreciate your kind invitation.”

Lord Greyson nodded, and Lady Lyra smiled warmly.

Before Master Nerio was required to say more, the servant at the door announced, “Master Kent and Master Raven.” The group turned to regard the duo framed in the open doorway.

Kent’s clothing bordered on too casual, but he wore them with an air of confidence that defied anyone to point such out. Raven, on the other hand, wore a status-appropriate costume of the finest fashion. Between Kent’s warm mahogany hair and gray-blue eyes and Raven’s coal hair and dark eyes very similar to his namesake, they made a striking duo. The pair of them surveyed their audience with identical impassive expressions, but underneath, Kent’s emotional state was far from impassive.

“Come meet our guests.” Greyson beckoned the two to join the cluster around him and his wife.

Kent’s mouth tightened slightly, but he dutifully approached with Raven at his side, the latter acting more like his peer than his servant.

“Master Kent, Master Raven, may I make known to you Master Nerio, Mistress Milana, and Lord Moritz. They have just arrived from Pishla in the northwestern region of the realm.”

Lord Moritz’s lip curled. I assumed at Greyson’s slight by listing him, the only titled of the trio, last in the introduction, but the rest of the group barely reacted to Kent and Raven’s arrival.

The younger fae exchanged polite greetings before Lady Lyra indicated we should all find places and sit so the food could be served.

Well aware that I had been placed between Master Nerio and Kent and not near Calla, I guided her to her place and then left her in her companion’s care.

As I walked around the table to my place, I encountered Lord Moritz. Offering him the slightest of curtsies as protocol demanded, I stepped to the side to move past him. He matched my movement, forcing me to come to an abrupt halt and lift my head.

“And who might you be?” Lord Moritz asked in a flirtatious tone.

Etiquette demanded I answer. I wasn’t of high enough rank to ignore the request; however, intuition revolted at the idea of offering the faun anything. “Nobody, my lord.”

“Nonsense. Clearly, you are someone special. After all, you are here in Lord Greyson’s home and eating at his table, an honor that few can boast of.”

“The meal is about to be served,” I pointed out. “I need to go to my place.”

“Ah, yes, then allow me.” He offered me his arm. “We can find your place card together.”

And you will discover my name that way. No, thank you.

Praying that my facial expression didn’t give my revulsion away, I shook my head. “No need, my lord. I am capable.”

Stepping aside, I attempted to go around him. But yet again, he matched my movement, blocking my way.

“I insist.” His voice took on an oily feel, which I suspected was persuasion magic.

“The lady said she didn’t need your help.” Kent’s voice broke through whatever spell the faun was trying to put on me. He came alongside me, close enough that I could feel the heat of him, but not close enough to touch. “Leave her be. You are embarrassing yourself.”

Then turning his back on the faun, Kent offered me his arm. “Come, our seats are this way.”

I accepted his offered support by resting my hand on his forearm, as etiquette dictated. After offering Lord Moritz the required head nod, Kent and I moved around the faun and walked toward the opposite end of the table.