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“I’m up!” Parys shot to his feet, sheets entirely forgotten, not a shred of clothing on him. Nor a shred of embarrassment either, even though Charis and Carly began twittering immediately.
I’d often wondered if there had been a bird shifter in their family bloodline, on account of the wings. The way they giggled and tittered only made me more curious.
“Master Parys,” Cyara sighed heavily.
“Just Parys,” he said quickly. He managed to pull a tunic over his head, the long-cut style finally covering his male bits.
“Charis, go fetch some luncheon for Her Majesty and… Parys,” Cyara ordered.
There was a bit more squabbling, but I gave them all my back, reaching for the mortar and pestle.
I tipped open one little pot, its lid encrusted with a pattern of blue and white gems to look like crashing waves. I pinched a few leaves into the well of the mortar as Carly appeared at my back. She tugged gently on my braid. In answer, I shrugged it back over my shoulder so she could begin untangling.
“Esa has sent word,” Cyara said from behind us. She paused, waiting for a directive from me.
Instead, I added several whole leaves from a solid gold pot to my tea mixture.
“Your Eternal and Royal Majesty,” Cyara began to read, her voice a passable imitation of Esa’s formality. “The Heir of the Terrestrial Fae has arrived in Baylaur. In accordance with your wishes, I have received His Highness and welcomed the terrestrial delegation to the goldstone palace.”
“Esa doesn’t care about anyone’s wishes but her own,” Parys grumbled from somewhere in the vicinity of the veranda.
I selected a tiny purple flower, its petals shriveled to nearly brown, sprinkling in two pinches. I reached for a third. Carly tugged sharply at a knot in my hair.
Coincidence?
Perhaps not.
It didn’t matter. Two pinches were sufficient for my purposes.
“Since His Highness is now in residence…” Cyara’s voice faltered. I began grinding the herbs mercilessly.
“Since His Highness is now in residence, the Offering has been set for tomorrow evening at sunset,” Cyara read, no quaver in her voice this time.
“Tomorrow? That cannot be.” Parys’ steps echoed across the goldstone floor. The swish of paper told me that either Cyara had handed over the missive or he’d ripped it from her hand.
My head handmaiden exhaled sharply. The latter, then.
“It’s hardly enough time to confer with the priestesses,” Carly commented, her warm breath skittering over my shoulder. All three sisters were always warm.
Did those wings turn to flames, when they took to the sky?
The blend of flowers and herbs in the mortar was breaking down, the scents tickling my nostrils with promise.
Carly’s hands did not tighten in my hair. If she recognized the scents, she gave no indication.
Cyara sighed. “The priestesses can be persuaded—”
“Have you heard?” Lyrena’s laughter filled the room, mingling with the heavy footfalls of her fellow Goldstones. I glanced over my shoulder to note—Lyrena, Gawayn, Evander.
I wrinkled my nose and turned away. Lyrena and Gawayn I could tolerate. But could and would were different matters just now.
I lifted the mortar to my nose, sniffing again. Something was missing. I cast a hand over the sea of intricate pots, looking for just the right complement to what I’d already assembled.
My hand passed over the herbs that I brewed into a contraceptive tea each evening in favor of the chocolatey powder Cyara sourced especially for me, a brew usually found only in the terrestrial territory.
It had no medicinal properties, but it would make the concoction palatable.
“Gawayn,” Cyara bit out. “Are you not Captain of Her Majesty’s Goldstone Guards?”
