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Ophelia’s cold touch sent a shiver over Ambrose’s skin. She tried to shake the feeling as she was led back through the crowd to the small group of men that had held Ophelia’s attention moments before. Ambrose did her best to look inviting.
“Oh, Ambrose, you have to meet these three fine individuals.”
Upbeat music meant for dancing was picking up by the small band stationed at the farthest wall. The room around them swayed while the three remained still; it was as if they moved they might lose the queens’ attention.
Ambrose studied them. A fair skinned man with carefully bound red hair and more freckles than stars in the sky. Another whose beautiful complexion was similar to hers, though his hair looked unnaturally light and his eyes were strikingly yellow. Then the last.
The queen had to place a hand on Ophelia’s arm to keep her from falling over. Every ounce of air that had once been in her lungs rushed out of her. She hadn’t looked sick before but she must now.
“Oh my gods, look at her! She’s so impressed with you already you’ve nearly knocked her off her feet.” Ophelia helped to steady her. It wasn’t a kind gesture. It was a demanding and quiet command to keep her composure.
Queens were never supposed to lose their composure. Unless of course, they saw a handsome man with shining onyx hair, crystal blue eyes, and a smile she would never forget. Ambrose schooled her expression back to a polite neutrality, though her eyes sparkled with curiosity and confusion.
“Levi, Raymond, and Ephram. In that order.” Ophelia clapped Ephram on the back. “This one was just telling us about his many family businesses. It’s truly impressive.”
Ophelia was never truly impressed. Ambrose’s gaze narrowed.
“I would love to hear more about that. I’m quite thirsty, Ephram would you mind escorting me?”
“I would be most honored.” He bowed to Ophelia and then deeper to Ambrose before offering his elbow.
“It was a pleasure meeting you. I’m sure we will have more time to visit.” It was a pathetic excuse of a goodbye to Levi and Richard but it was all she could muster as she took Ephram’s arm. Every cell in her body was vibrating. Whether it was from excitement or anger she wasn’t sure just yet.
Wherever they went handsome faces turned toward them, bowing respectfully. There would be no place for a private conversation out of earshot.
“Would you like some fresh air? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” Ephram said, turning her toward the small open doors that led to Ophelia’s private garden.
Cold air turned her sweat to ice. On uneven cobblestone steps, her heels wobbled but Ephram made sure to hold her steady. They could never truly escape the party and Ambrose didn’t think it wise to let them travel too far for fear that others would find her sudden favoritism suspicious. The pair stopped no more than a few yards from the open door.
“What happened to you?” The queen dropped his arm and pulled at his upper lip to reveal his squared human-like teeth. He smirked as she tugged at his rounded ears. “How dare you try and use a glamour!”
“But I cannot fool you. Look a little closer, my queen.”
So she did. She cupped his face, less angular than normal though he was still unbearably handsome. She tried to find his flaw, tried to find that one thing that would give him away. There was nothing. And he was perfect.
The longer she squinted and the more she remembered the way he was supposed to look the fuzzier his human-like appearance got. Between blinks his image would shift; one second he’d look human, the next his prominent Fae features were back.
A pulsing pain formed behind her brows. As her eyes unfocused he became unmistakably human once more.
“You know my truth.” His forehead touched hers pulling all of her attention to him. Was he going to kiss her? Out here where anyone could see?
“It makes it harder to hide from you.”
The knowledge of the public eye forced her to step back even when she wanted to lean into him. Though leaning closer could go one of two ways. She could kiss him or she could strangle him. Twigs from the hedge behind her poked at her back, reminding her there wasn’t anywhere else to go.
“Why are you here? This is so dangerous.” Ambrose forced herself to keep her voice steady but the question wasn’t without the sting of her anger.
“I’ve come for your hand.”
Her fingers tensed around her staff, her long painted nails biting into the soft skin of her palm. “Don’t be a fool, Ephram. Are you going to wear a glamour for the rest of your life?”
His light and airy laugh broke up the notes of the music. Even though Ambrose admired the sound of his laughter, her lips still pulled down at the corners. Faces turned toward them from beyond the opened doors. Men had to be curious who it was who was having such a vibrant conversation with the queen that they’d laugh soobnoxiously.
The material of his suit was expensive; Ambrose briefly studied it as she placed a hand on his arm to try and steady his rambunctious laughter. There were no twigs, or dirt, or fallen leaves trying to cling to him. Was that a glamour too? Ephram always looked like he’d crawled out of some hole in the forest.
“I am not afraid of your sister. And if I must hide my true identity then I will.”
“It is not just my sister who would come for you with a pitchfork in hand should they realize what you are under the magic.”
