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The elven king looked cold and pale, his eyes severe and his mouth tight.
I could feel his disgust, and yet his gaze raked over my bare body.
“Picking fights?” he asked as his eyes met mine.
I started to respond when a short, stout brownie pushed her way into the room, grumbling as she went. Her ears were pointed and large, hanging off the sides of her face as if they were too heavy for her head. She wore a brown dress and a stained white apron.
I reached for the blanket on the bed and held it to myself.
The beast smirked.
“This is Naeve,” he said. “She will help you prepare for the day.”
“Prepare for the day?”
“You are welcome to remain as you are,” he said, his eyes appraising. “Though I must admit, I quite like being the only one to see you like this.”
“How do you know you are the only one?”
The beast narrowed his eyes.
“He isn’t,” said the brownie, who stood at my feet and ripped the blanket away. I rolled my fingers into fists and growled at her as she made her way around me, her eyes assessing, but in a different way than the elven prince, who had taken a seat across the room, reclining comfortably, obviously intent on watching meprepare for the day, whatever that meant.
Once Naeve had made several rounds at my feet, she walked to the wooden wardrobe and knocked twice. One of the doors flew open, and a small creature poked its head out.
Naeve spoke to it in a language I did not understand. It was fast and so harsh, I thought they might be fighting. The small creature turned its attention to me for a moment. It had large round eyes that were set close and deep and a long, crooked nose that stuck out over a wide mouth.
It blinked at me, eyes shining incandescently, and then disappeared into the wardrobe, slamming the door. I took that to mean whatever Naeve had asked was unceremoniously rejected, but the brownie was not deterred. She crossed to a mirrored vanity, climbing onto the cushioned seat and the tabletop. Then she turned and pointed at the bench.
“Sit!”
I hesitated, gaze shifting between the beast and the brownie. When I did not move, Naeve kicked a small bowl of powder off the vanity.
“Sit!”
The prince laughed.
“Forgive her,” he said, and at first, I thought he was talking to me, but I noticed that he was looking at Naeve as he continued. “She is a bit dull.”
Naeve snickered and I scowled.
“I can take care of myself.”
“Are you saying you asked me to watch you bathe because you wanted me to and not because you feared the red caps?”
“I hate you,” I seethed, holding his gaze as I sat for Naeve, wondering what more I had to fear from the brownie or the creatures in my wardrobe.
His grin was menacing, and I ground my teeth, keeping them clenched as the brownie began to pull and twist strands of my hair. The beast watched, and for a brief moment, a harsh intensity returned to his face. I had no chance to study it or to think long on what had sparked it when he turned away, wandering toward the window from which the pixies had escaped.
“Must you remain?” I asked.
“Must you speak?” he returned.
“I suppose not, but then I would never utter your true name.”
His jaw ticked. That was the only indication I had that my words affected him. He continued to stare out the window while I sat naked and Naeve plaited my hair. As soon as she finished, the doors to the wardrobe burst open, and a ball of fabric came flying toward me, landing on my head.
“Dress!” Naeve ordered.
