The huge man lunges across the table, food and cutlery flying. I’m across the table with my hand around his throat before he can blink. “All my papers are wrinkled and covered with your filthy changeling fingerprints.” He snarls and raises his hand to strike her. She doesn’t look up, doesn’t sense her mate-but that doesn’t matter. Her stained shift covers the rest of her, and the need to rip it away and see her has me practically humming with tension. Though her eyes are downcast, I can tell they are a light blue, like the sky at first light on a snowy morning. Her hair is light brown, and I know it will feel soft under my rough fingers. I rise to my feet, staring at her as she shuffles forward and hands the papers to Tyrios. I can feel it, an unbreakable tether linking me to her. Her scent hits me full force, and something inside me unfurls like dark wings. All I can see is the fear in her eyes, the painful marks along her face. All I can hear is her thundering heartbeat. After a moment, a slight scuffle sounds from an adjacent room before a changeling is pushed through it, a sheaf of papers in her hands. So hard to find a decent servant from human stock.”Ī lesser fae hurries out of the dining room as the rest offer dessert to the nobles. She used to belong to my daughter, who went and spoiled her. Tyrios snaps his fingers again, his lips twisting into a glower. Perhaps she is more worried about the disappearances-and the so-called king beyond the mountain-than she’s been letting on? If she already has letters drawn up, she intended to agree to my request before we even met this evening. “Of course, my queen.” He snaps his fingers. Lord Tyrios, do you have the letters of cooperation I asked you to draft?” Perhaps if we work together, we’ll have better luck. I’ve already sent my spies to the affected towns along our western border, but they’ve yet to find any clues. To that end, I believe winter and summer should work together to find whoever is behind it. “Lesser fae are members of our realms and deserve our protection. “King Gladion is correct.” Queen Aurentia holds my gaze.
He goes silent and sits back, but I can feel the anger roiling inside him. “You sit here with your jewels and finery-all of it given to you by your lesser fae slaves in the southern mines or the silk factories of the east-and dare to impugn our king for-” “Dirtying?” Gareth leans forward, his voice a gravelly threat. Tyrios continues, “But, then again, Queen Aurentia’s line has long forbidden dirtying the high fae bloodlines with-”
This conversation is already getting out of hand. I remember attending his sister’s wedding to a lesser fae, the groom’s ancestry a mix of fae and water sprite. “Perhaps that is considered appropriate in the winter realm, but we do not allow high and lesser fae to mingle in such a demeaning fashion.”
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