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Silence stretched between us as we flew. My cloak fluttered in the breeze, held in check by Dagda at my back. The occasional glitter of lights drifted up through the trees and fields that we passed.
We glided over a large wall. Keelin made a hand signal, and the sentries nodded, unconcerned. The city below was alive with nightlife. Lanterns and torches cast a dull sheen over the buildings. Figures bustled about on the streets, some rushing about, others ambling on at a slower pace. Music and the scent of warm, delicious baked goods drifted up to us.
To the north, the castle towered above yet another wall. It twisted upward, a marvel of stone and wood, like it had grown that way out of the ground. Marble and branches weaved into an impossible monolithic structure. Flower colored vines lined most of the windows.
My hands balled at the sight, hating that it was so beautiful, so breathtakingly unique.Keep it cool. Keep it together. You don’t want one of them to take over.
We passed over the palace wall and landed close to its side. Keelin took the pegasi, while Dagda and I entered through an unguarded door. Inside felt dry and cool, the hallway narrow and plain.
While we waited for Keelin, my nerves became more and more frayed. I reached under my cloak to run a finger over the smooth metal disc on my arm. I was really here, in the Otherworld. In a realm surrounded by faeries with no way to protect myself. I fought to remain calm.
Dagda rested a palm on my shoulder. “When you get anxious or out of control, that is when they try to take over.”
“Don’t touch me,” I whispered.
He withdrew his hand and placed more space between us.
We waited there for Keelin to return and allowed him to scout ahead to make sure the hallways were deserted. Lanterns holding clear stones that emitted a brilliant glow rested in alcoves in the wall. Two giant braziers lit the corridor where the halls intersected. We moved up a long narrow staircase, right up to a set of large, oak double doors.
Dagda looked to Keelin, who nodded and moved away down the hall. Suddenly, a man burst out of the room in front of us, holding a young boy about eight or nine by the arm.
Dagda pulled back his hood. “Sansa, what is the meaning of this?”
Sansa was tall and skinny. He wore an apron smudged with flour about his waist. “Forgive me, your majesty.” His eyes traveled to the faerie king, then to me, although my face remained hidden beneath the cloak. He cleared his throat. “I was delivering food to these rooms as you ordered, for the new, uh, arrival. Doing it myself, sir, as I’m the head chef and normally don’t do such things—”
“Get to the point, Sansa.”
“Yes, your majesty. Well, you see, I was almost down the hall when I saw this whelp sneaking into the very room I just left. I went right back, sir, and caught him swiping a roll from the plate.”
The boy stared at his feet, his blond hair falling into his young eyes.
“Let him have the food,” I said.
The boy’s head shot up, and the cook frowned. “Forgive me—er, miss,” Sansa said, “but he is a servant and receives plenty to eat from the kitchens.”
Miss. It was clear he was pretending not to know who I was. Probably for the boy’s sake.
“It's for my sister.” The boy danced from foot to foot. “She’s waiting out behind the stables.”
Sansa gave a loud humph. “Are we to be feeding every urchin in the kingdom?”
“Actually, yes. You should feed any child that comes to the palace for food. It's called common decency. No little ones should go hungry.” I turned to the boy. “Take it all.”
The boy’s eyes widened. “Yes, your maj—miss. Thank you, miss.”
A smile pulled at my lips. There was no fooling this kid.
The cook reluctantly let the boy go. The child disappeared inside the room, only to appear a moment later, with the plate of steaming food between his hands. He bowed low before scurrying down the hall. The cook also bowed and then slouched off after him.
I met Dagda’s eyes as he stood, considering me, something almost tender there. Sucking in a breath, I turned away. I hoped he didn’t think me some great savior. Only a monster would have denied a child food I didn’t even want.
The faerie king ushered me into a spacious bedroom. A large armoire closet lined the far wall along with an opening that I assumed must lead to a bathroom—whatever that was like here in faerieland. God, I hoped they had plumbing. An elegantly crafted table and chair rested in front of a narrow cabinet.
I froze, my eyes narrowing on the four poster bed, complete with a magenta canopy and an embroidered comforter, large enough to sleep two comfortably.
When Dagda shut the door behind us, it felt as if the air disappeared with it.
My mouth went dry. “You guys don’t stand on pretenses around here, do you?”
