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Bleddyn would do nothing without the prince’s orders. Did that include taking me to his bed?
Struggling with a rush of nausea, I fought to keep my face neutral. I was walking into a situation I might not be able to control. But there was no choice, other than tough it out and be ready to run. Because I was so close to finding answers, I was not giving up now.
With a nod, the prince dismissed my escort. “We have a few minutes, so let me give you a little tour.”
We walked along the perimeter of the courtyard until we reached an opening at the far side, and I got my first view of the palace proper.
In front of me was a beautiful garden, more lush and colorful than anything I’d ever seen. There were flowers that in the human world would never bloom together. Large bushes of lilac stood next to roses and chrysanthemums.
“If you are truly my sister’s child, the whole realm will rejoice.”
Surprised by his words, I glanced at the Prince, who stared ahead into the garden.
“I don’t know how much Bleddyn has told you. But Arwen and I were very close as children. We did everything together, trained together, studied together, and when she left, I held out hope that she would return one day. I missed her terribly.”
My shoulders relaxed and a warm feeling spread through my chest. Maybe things would turn out well after all. Perhaps I would find a new family in this place. I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d held, sending him a beaming smile. But his face was like stone as he continued staring into the distance.
Children laughed nearby, and a boy and a girl, both dressed in simple tunics with wreaths of flowers in their hair, ran past us, trying to catch each other. They looked like I’d imagined faeries to look like. Even though their legs and arms were skinny, they seemed healthy, with shining eyes and glossy hair.
A deep voice from behind me said, “You are the spitting image of my daughter. I would recognize you anywhere.”
I spun around and found myself facing an elderly man in magnificent attire. The king. He was right here, in front of me.
Once again, I held my breath as my thoughts tumbled over each other. Nobody had briefed me on how to talk to a king. Why had Bleddyn never mentioned how to behave before royalty? Was I supposed to bow or curtsy?
The man didn’t wear a crown, but his coat was made of black fur from a huge animal, giving him the appearance of a skinny bear. But the hair looked soft like rabbit, edged with silver trimmings and embroidered with golden thread. Underneath, his garments were of fine fabric and his shoes of supple leather, as intricately adorned as his outer clothes.
He held himself like a ruler, upright and strong. The only concession to his age was a walking stick with a silver wolf’s head that he leaned on heavily. I decided that yes, dropping into a curtsey would be the right thing to do. I was about to get into position when he opened his arms.
Before I could object, he embraced me. My cheek rested against his shoulder, and yeah, the coat was as soft as it looked. His arms were strong and warm, holding me tightly against him. A sense of tranquility and security washed over me as I listened to his steady heartbeat under my ear.
And then I heard the words I’d been desperate to hear, without even knowing it.
“Welcome home, my child.”
Chapter twenty-one
WhatshouldIcallhim? Granddad? Gramps? I giggled at the idea of being so disrespectful to the ruler of the Fae world, even though that’s who he was. My mom’s dad.
The king offered me his arm and together, we made our way into the garden. The air was heavy with floral scents, and it would have been cloying if not for a warm breeze that blew past my face, lightening the atmosphere.
I searched my brain for something to say like, “Are those your grandchildren?” or “You have such a nice garden.” It all sounded inane, so I kept my mouth shut while we crossed the distance to the palace.
Large, heavy walls surrounded the grounds. As we drew nearer, the oddness of the building became more obvious. The base of the citadel looked familiar. I was sure I’d seen similar in documentaries about European royalty.
Huge granite blocks formed an impenetrable fortress. The windows were narrow like arrow slits, and the gate was enormous, fashioned from slabs of ancient wood. It was hung in position with hinges made from a strange, green material. The same metal was used as plates to cover the lock, and as ornamental horizontal bands to strengthen the massive door.
I wondered if the metal was copper? Where iron rusted red, copper turned green, if exposed to the elements. That got me thinking about the ground I walked on. My magic sensed large iron ore deposits below me. So why did the Fae not use it? Instead, they used copper, silver, pewter. Anything but the plentiful mineral in Faerie’s soil.
Before I could ask, we entered the palace, stepping into a hall. Once my eyes had adjusted to the darkness of the interior, my jaw dropped.
The room wasn’t large, but big enough for a table that could easily seat twenty. Handwoven carpets in jewel colors, fine as gossamer, covered the cold flagstones.
In the back, a fire warmed the room, burning cleanly without acrid smoke. The walls were decorated with pastel fabrics, draped artfully in swags from ceiling to floor. The impression was overwhelmingly beautiful, light and airy.
I was still gawking, turning my head like an owl to take it all in. The king chuckled and patted my hand, speaking for the first time since we left the gardens. “Forgive me. I should have warned you. But I do so enjoy the expressions when strangers first see the reception hall. Will you join us for some breakfast?”
That reminded me that I hadn’t eaten yet, and I nodded eagerly.
