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Rue smiled and laughed softly. “I hope her punishment wasn’t too severe.”
Nerio’s eyes brightened at Rue’s laughter. She was enchanting him, and I couldn’t blame him for being attracted to her. After all, Rue glowed with guileless delight as she blessed him and his story with her attention.
She looked beautiful. Her dark hair had been swept up into another lovely cascade of curls and coils, revealing the elegant curve of her neck and the graceful slope of her narrow shoulders.
Yet again her attendant had chosen well for Rue’s gown. The warm cream gown she wore enhanced her coloring as it fell in graceful flowing lines about her, hinting at her form beneath. The sleeves fell back from her arms and draped from her elbows whenever she lifted her hands. When she was listening, though, she left them resting in her lap beneath the table, and the fabric of the tablecloths hid them from sight.
Before Nerio could finish his tale, the double doors opened and a dust-covered goblin entered. He grunted, bowed perfunctorily to the room at large before thumping directly to Greyson. “From the king,” he declared and thrust a folded-up missive at Greyson before departing the way he came.
The conversation in the room fell silent as all attention shifted to Greyson.
Lord Greyson read the missive in silence before refolding it and meeting his wife’s gaze across the table. “The king and his court will arrive within the week. He wishes to meet his sons in person.”
“Sons?” Rue asked me in a whisper as the group expressed their surprise or delight. Her moss-green eyes were wide beneath her arched brows.
I caught her hand beneath the table’s edge and squeezed it. “I will explain later.”
To my relief, she accepted that.
Chapter Eleven
Rue
As Kent’s ungloved hand closed around my fingers, my entire perception of the room shifted. Borrowed anxiety coiled in my belly, stealing away what little appetite I had. Jealousy flitted about the edges of his unease, but deep beneath it all was a pleasant heat of something that curled through our connection and wrapped around my fingers like a caress. It felt like longing. But longing for what?
“I am glad to hear the king is being family-minded,” Lord Moritz declared to Thessa, Calla’s companion, who dined beside him. “I have heard he has been remarkably complacent about this whole curse affair.”
“He had no choice,” Lord Greyson commented as he folded away the letter into a pocket. “King Azulin’s binding gave him no alternatives.”
“Awful domineering of the Seelie king to make such an aggressive move against a fellow king. Why ever wasn’t it considered an act of war?”
Greyson tensed, and for a moment all the other fae in the room tensed as well, except Lord Moritz and Mistress Milana. Kent’s grip on my fingers tightened.
Commanding the room with a heavy pause, Lord Greyson spoke again. “His Majesty initially wished to do just that, but thankfully he listened to sense when his position was explained to him.”
“What do you mean?” Mistress Milana asked, drawing Greyson’s gaze to her. “How can the curse be anything but an act of aggression?” The slight tilt to her head and innocent expression on her face conveyed a very different message than the oily sensation that skated across my senses. More persuasion magic, I suspected.
Lord Greyson’s neutral expression grew annoyed. His dramatically expressive dark brows lowered ominously. “Because it was a measured response to our king’s repeatedly overt actions intended to claim the Seelie king’s throne.”
“Surely his actions couldn’t have been that obvious.” Lord Moritz leaned forward, a picture of pleasant solicitude. “The fae are renowned throughout all the kingdoms as a wily people. Overtness is not in our natures, and especially not in that of our king.”
Lord Greyson’s expression turned positively stormy at the insinuation. “Clearly you don’t know our king as well as I do, Lord Moritz. Have you spent much time with him?”
Lord Moritz straightened and adjusted his sleeves. “I haven’t had the pleasure.”
“Did you witness the effects of our king’s curse torturing the Seelie king?”
“No, but I am certain it was appropriate for the Seelie’s crimes.” Lord Moritz avoided Greyson’s darkening countenance by adjusting his napkin on his lap.
“What crime did the Seelie king commit? Ruling his father’s kingdom in his stead as the old king descended into madness, the result of an earlier curse? Or perhaps it was his refusal to comply with our king’s wishes? Far be it for the Seelie king to wish to rule his own kingdom in a way that benefits his people.”
The shadows in the corners of the room began writhing. More than one diner stole a glance at the sudden stirring.
Lord Moritz gave up pretending that Greyson’s intensity wasn’t intimidating him. “Perhaps I spoke out of turn.”
“Out of turn?” Greyson’s voice had dropped into a warning grumble as his hands fisted on the tabletop.
“Beloved.” Lady Lyra covered the top of the fist near her with her hand. Pale, delicate, and far too human against the Dullahan’s much larger hand, she clearly wasn’t his match in power, but that simple motion had a remarkable effect on him.
