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SIXTEEN
Cassia
I reach the bottom of the steps leading to the castle and look up, feeling uncertain as I stare at the towering white structure. Normally, from here, I’d be making my way to the servants’ halls to change and get ready for my shift. Now? I don’t have a clue what I’m supposed to be doing.
But then as I’m struggling to decide what to do, a fae servant exits through the huge wooden doors, looks at me, eyes wide, and heads toward me. My heart races. The human servants rarely interacted with the fae servants. Even though we have similar roles in the castle, they’re still above us. And yet, this servant seems to have been looking for me specifically.
“My lady,” she gushes as she reaches me, giving a sweeping bow. “We’ve been expecting you.”
“You have?” I ask, feeling dumb.
Of course they would have been expecting me. My family’s already arrived and the Summer Court functions like a well-oiled machine. No doubt they already have a room cleaned and ready for me, along with anything else I might need. That’s just how things roll when they think you’re fae royalty.
She smiles as she straightens, and the movement draws attention to her heart-shaped face and large eyes. The girl can’t be more than eighteen, but she carries herself like she’s far older. “Come on now, you’re late, Lady Cassia.”
“Late?” I snort. “Late to be porked by four princes?” The moment the words slip from my lips, I regret them.
Her cheeks turn scarlet. “N-no, not for that.”
I feel as embarrassed as she turns and leads me through the castle. Just because I’m terrified of a night with the princes doesn’t mean I should be discussing it with some random servant. She doesn’t deserve that.
As we walk, I feel all eyes on us, and hear the sound of whispering each time I pass someone. I keep my back straight, even though my gaze is trained on the ground. I might not want to see humans and fae alike, who are now looking at me like some long-lost fae princess, staring, but I’ll be damned if they see just how much they’re getting to me.
When we stop in a room, I finally look up and frown. “What’s this about then?”
The servant turns back to me. “Prince Sulien has instructed us to prepare a wardrobe for you.” She sweeps her arms around the room covered in material, with a little place to stand, and a mirror in front of it.
A fae man with long dark hair and a pointy nose appears from behind a changing area. “Ah, you’re here at last, come now,” and he offers me his arm, which I awkwardly take, and then he leads me up onto the little stand.
Before I even have a chance to process, he’s measuring me this way and that with a little tape measure, jotting down notes as he goes. “What are your preferences in colors? Fabrics? Fit? Length?” he rattles off the questions so fast I can barely follow.
“I just don’t want to look like an asshole.”Geez. Surely there was a better way to say that?
He freezes while measuring my arm. “Uh, an asshole, my lady?”
All this ‘my lady’ stuff is already getting old, but I clarify, “I don’t want to be squeezed into outfits that have my boobs falling out. I don’t want to have huge puffy skirts that make it hard to walk. I want to be in clothes that I can move around in and do what I have to do. Other than that, I don’t care.” There, that’s better.
He gives a nod, but he has a funny look on his face, like he’s trying to figure me out as he measures me. Granted, I haven’t exactly been a smoothtalker since I entered this room, so I don’t blame his reaction. The thing is, I just want to find some quiet place to crawl into and sleep away the rest of this strange day.
Maybe then I’d gain some clarity about what to do with the princes and the spell that went so terribly wrong.
“I don’t think she needs new clothes. She looks just fine in what she’s already wearing.”
I freeze and glance to my side where Prince Cobar leans against a wall looking far too handsome in dark blue pants and a white shirt that’s unbuttoned nearly to his belly. His golden curls have been left loose around his face, softening the strong lines of his face ever-so-slightly. His startling blue eyes cling to my body, moving from my feet up to my face, heating my skin like a caress.
It’s unsettling. He shouldn’t be here.
Damn teleporting.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, feeling even more frustrated.
I’m not ready to face these men. Not yet. Not when I still don’t know what lies to tell to buy me time to find a solution to the mess I’m now in.
He smiles, and I hate how much I like his smile. “I had the good fortune of hearing that you were here and thought I’d check on my bride.”
This again?“Not your bride,” I counter.
“That’s not what the magic says,” he teases, followed by a wink.
