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I kept speaking, telling everyone about the exciting news of the mage dust discovery and what it would mean for our territory, especially with the construction of the new mountain pass. But inside I was stunned. That was Fife's magic dancing over my aura and spinning in the air around us. Fife, who had looked at me like he was up to mischief. Had he really been gloating because he was about to surprise me with unexpected magic tricks?
And…was the male who was so against my using his magic like a tool really just…voluntarily helping me?
I issued an invitation for the people to come and meet their new co-stewards this evening, then finished my speech to a round of cheering and applause. The partygoers below were much less restrained than the Elfhaven courtiers I had left behind not too long ago. The sound of their enthusiastic excitement warmed my heart. Turning toward the stairs, I glanced back at my silent mates. "Will you come and dance with your new Larkwood family, my lords?"
They all moved to follow me. Mirri was smiling. Adder was as expressionless as ever—which could mean anything, really. And Fife studied me with an equally unreadable expression. But Bach nodded to me and held out an arm to escort me down the stairs like a proper gentleman.
Eager nobles and business owners greeted us at the foot of the stairs, some of whom I had introduced to my mates in our forays into town, and some who were new faces to them. I ignored my own mixed and often turbulent feelings for the males who were now my co-stewards and introduced them around with honest praise regarding their strengths and my hopes for how well they would suit their new roles.
As we made our way through the crowd, people approached for matters other than introductions and business, sizing up the new stewards. Before long, every one of my mates was engaged in the dancing, and I was twirling about on Gambol's arm, laughing at my childhood friend's truly awful jokes.
My mates and I reconvened around the refreshment table some time later, near the open doors leading to the garden, in some sort of unspoken agreement. Mirri offered me a glass of sparkling wine and I took it gratefully, sweaty and breathless from all the dancing. "How are you enjoying your first Larkwood ball?" I asked as I glanced at each of my males.
Mirri lifted his own glass of wine and gave me another of his warm smiles. "I think we're acclimating well."
I nodded. There had been a bit of hesitance from some of the guests, a bit of wariness that I sensed in their side-long glances and fake smiles. But that was only natural. My stepmother had been a very capable and independent steward. And for years now, it had been just me running this territory. I grew up here, had lived in Larkwood all my life, and was well known to practically everyone in the territory. And now the royals had brought in strangers to share the stewardship.
They might be my mates, but the males around me had been chosen by tournament. None of them were from here, and no one really knew my relationship to them, whether they were welcome, or whether—as Gambol had suggested that day in the clothing shop—they might be an unwanted change forced on us from above. But I tried my best to put on a cheerful face, and I was pleased that most people were genuinely welcoming. And even the citizens who were more standoffish seemed to warm to the men as the night progressed.
Despite how strained things might be between me and my co-stewards, they were each perfectly charming to anyone who greeted them. And they really were kind and capable males. Of course they would have the people eating out of their hands in no time. I was relieved and heartened by the confirmation that all would be well, at least in this regard. The last thing we needed was tension or mistrust among the citizens right on the cusp of all the changes that were about to occur in the territory.
A tall, thin, elegant highborn woman drifted over to our group as we stood by the refreshment table, sipping our drinks in amiable silence. She had a birdlike bearing, which was enhanced by the pretty turquoise, blue, and gold peacock feathers that grew naturally amid her upswept silver hair. Her face bore the faint lines that hinted at very advanced age in a highborn, and she carried herself like a queen, her silvery wings resting half-spread across her elegant back.
"Lady Kat," she greeted me with an imperious nod before her chin lifted again to that regal posture. "It's lovely to have you returned to us."
I grinned at her, well aware that I couldn't match even a fraction of her queenly bearing, and not fool enough to try. "Madam Hawthorn," I greeted the woman who had been a staple in my life since I was first adopted into Lady Rose's home. "I trust you kept everyone in the territory in line while I was gone?"
She sniffed and lifted her elegant nose a notch in haughty disdain. "As if they would dare to step out of line on my watch."
I turned to the men around me and gestured at them in turn. "May I introduce my mates, Bach, Mirri, Fife, and Adder." Turning back to the imposing female fae, I smiled again. "This is madam Rue Hawthorn, who by all rights should rule this territory, but allows me that honor. For some mysterious reason."
She scoffed and held out a lace-gloved hand for the men as she replied. "Nonsense. I've never wanted to be a steward. I saw how much stress your stepmother dealt with every day. What an annoying job. It's more suited to someone younger and far more patient with the needs of the fools around them."
Her words were haughty, but the corners of her turquoise eyes crinkled with amusement, letting the others know she wasn't serious. Much.
They each took her hand in turn and bowed over it as if we were at some formal old-world court, murmuring the appropriate polite niceties. But when it was Fife's turn, the beautiful male lifted her hand to kiss the back and slid her a mischievous green-eyed wink. "A lady who knows the truth of the world, I think," he murmured in his enchanting bard's voice, his expression turning sultry.
I shook my head, suppressing a laugh. Madam Hawthorn just lifted one winged eyebrow at him in surprise. "My boy, I am at least three hundred years too old to be the object of your flirtation, and we both know it."
He released her hand and pressed his palm over his heart as if wounded. "And just when I thought I had met my one true love. How will I recover from this eviscerating rejection?"
She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her lips twitched upward in amusement as she delighted in the attention. "Upstart child, isn't one mate enough for you?"
His smirk turned absolutely wicked. "The more the merrier, my lady."
I somehow kept my amused smile in place, even as his words hit my chest like a well-thrown dagger. I kept myself from looking at Adder to see his expression, though the urge was strong since Fife was currently bound to me but involved with the other man. Was it possible that Fife knew I'd seen them kissing? His taunting hit the mark far too well otherwise.
Conversation moved on from playful banter to more mundane things, as I explained that I had known Madam Hawthorn, who had been a dear friend of my stepmother's, since I was a child. The haughty elder highborn was all steel and disdain, but she was also one of my staunchest supporters. And she really did keep tabs on everyone and everything that went on in our territory. She made for a formidable and invaluable advisor when the need arose, and I was blessed to have her to call on over the years.
Madam Hawthorn told the men a few amusing, embarrassing anecdotes from when I was a brash, energetic child running amok on the estate lands. Then she excused herself to go gather more gossip.
"She is a wonder," Bach said once the woman departed. "Reminds me of my grandmother. Terrifying, but a treasure, nonetheless."
I nodded in agreement. "She is."
"You do have such interesting friends here," Fife chimed in, his smooth voice immediately putting me on high alert. He sounded just a bit too friendly, too happy and bright. "The one you were dancing with earlier, for example," he said with an overly nonchalant look of curiosity on his face. "The male who fawned over you at the clothier's shop. You seemed very close. Another cherished advisor, perhaps?"
It took me a moment to figure out who he was talking about. But when I did, I could only stare at him in confusion. Fife—Kat-hating, venomous Fife—sounded…jealous.
