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D’Artaron releases the female, and I stare at him, hoping my shocked expression will goad him into explaining what he just did. But he doesn’t. He stares back at me, that quizzical eyebrow rising again as if I’m the one who’s done something outrageous.
Nottuza is watching and warning me about D’Artaron, and I can hardly believe he infiltrated the mind of our commander, even if briefly. He could get killed for that.
I gather my wits. “The Spring princess is from the Northorn province.”
D’Artaron nods. “Which family?”
She answers him, and as they start chatting, she grows more comfortable, even if the conversation resembles an interrogation more than causal chatter.
The orchestra starts playing lively music, and from the corner of my eye, I see Taliant running toward the conductor. The music signals dancing, but that’s after the dinner. And yet when Aamako pulls Augusta onto the floor, Taliant stops and monitors the change in event protocols.
One wouldn’t expect it from the brooding Unseelie king, but he loves dancing. My brother and June follow, and I look up at the commander as the couples start filing onto the dance floor. The Spring prince isn’t around, and his father, the king, is chatting with a male at another table. This means the Spring princess has no partner.
“After the kings, the princesses and princes take the floor,” I say.
The commander offers me his elbow as if to ask me to dance, but I say, “Of course I wouldn’t mind, D’Artaron. We are here to have fun.” I tap his shoulder. “Remember fun?”
He narrows his eyes, but I curtsey and leave him with the Spring princess, whom he takes to the floor.
I circle the floor until I spot a tall male shadow against the wall. The shadow moves, and I follow it, which in itself is exciting. Shadowsofpeople are castfrompeople and this shadow has no person attached. I don’t believe I’ve seen anyone use shadow magic this precisely before.
I’m following the walking shadow when a hand slaps over my mouth and someone snatches me into a portal.
37
FLEUR
Ikick and scream, but stop at the feeling of a cold blade against my throat.
The shadow portal rides as smooth as any Seelie portal, telling me that this kidnapper is experienced, possibly one of the rogue shadow crawlers who used to serve the Unseelie Court.
My feet touch soft ground, and the shadows clear. I look around.
We arrived on a field surrounded by tall mountains and what appears to be gray ground. Wind carries ashes. The ground is covered in it.
Notturnosvelosipast us, the breeze made by their speed the only warning before they materialize before me.
The blade leaves my throat, and the Unseelie who kidnapped me steps back.
I spin around and face none other than my mother.
She’s wearing a dark coat that’s seen better spans, and with how she piled her hair on top of her head, I’m guessing that, as with the Spring queen, her hairdresser is herself. Pale with dark charcoal drawn around her eyes, my mother appears unwell.
I wish I didn’t care, but for all that she wasn’t always kind to me, she is still my mother. Once upon a time, she was a role model of strength and beauty, one of the most feared females in the world. She should still be feared, but it’s difficult to be afraid of a sickly-looking elder female in rags.
“Mother!” I shout. “What in the name of the fates are you doing?”
She looks me up and down and says in a matter-of-fact tone, “You’ve finally gained some weight.”
I have. In fact, I’ve eaten so much hearty food on Julie’s farm that I’ve gained an entire dress size. While nobody else said a word, likely because the extra weight gives me more curves and makes my body more attractive, nothing slips by my mother’s notice.
“Looks like I’m eating for the two of us,” I tell her, referencing her weight loss. I feel a pang of guilt for bringing up my status and wealth and her clear lack thereof, but it passes quickly when I remind myself she kept the truth of my siren nature from me.
Mother huffs. “Since when have you become cruel?”
“Since I found out you almost offered me to the merfolk.”
Surprise registers in her eyes, and then something else I’d like to believe is regret. “Your brothers swore an oath not to tell. So much for their word.”
