There were absolutely no such things as fairy godmothers, or ever were, because Lord Treveon took the seat across from her. Small mercies, he didn’t make eye contact with her. This was a terrible night.
“You don’t believe in the legends, Stefan?” King Rubert asked.
He was a striking man whose voice carried with the authority befitting his station. Even sitting at the head of the table, sitting back in his chair, relaxed, he was imposing.
“Of course, I do, but tooth fairies are not a part of any of the great stories,” he said.
Leaning forward, Lucien lifted his fork and pointed it at Max.
“The stories will tell you the fae were kind, but actually, if you were naive enough to put your tooth beneath your pillow, you would alert the fae to your presence and bam!” he slammed his fist on the table, making Max jump. “Next thing you know, you are whisked off to the land of the fae and imprisoned for all your days.”
Max’s eyes went wide before he shook his soft brown curls and glared at his older brother.
“I would have come across such a thing if it existed,” he said.
Lucien shrugged and set his fork down.
“All I’m saying is maybe don’t put your tooth under your pillow,” he said.
A steel reserve came over Max as he straightened his shoulders and leaned back in his chair. Fae or not, Luci was plenty sure that the little prince would be placing his tooth beneath his pillow the moment he got back to his room.
“I think it’s time to eat,” the king said.
On command, servants entered, bringing in trays of soup. The heart scent of pumpkin erupted, and Luci’s stomach grumbled in answer. It was her favorite soup, and she was beginning to think the night was taking a turn for the better. Sure enough, the first bite was creamy and just the right amount of thick. It reminded her of autumn days spent watching the leaves fall while bundled up in the ridiculous sweaters Brielle knitted during the summer. Always comically big and fuzzy to the point of passing for a sheep.
“Luci?” Gladys asked next to her.
“Hmm?”
Raising her eyes, she found several eyes on her, and contentment quickly transformed into horror.
Gladys’ answering smile held no malice. “I was asking how you found the pumpkin soup. Brielle mentioned it was your favorite the other day.”
Brielle was spilling all her secrets now. Craning her head past Lucien, Luci found Brielle happily plopping her spoon into her mouth. Clearly unbothered by her betrayal.
“It’s the best I’ve ever had, though I am not brave enough to tell Archie that,” Luci said.
“Oh, certainly not.” Brielle agreed. “She’d stomp all the way to the capital and demand a competition to see which was best.”
“That doesn’t seem so terrible.” Prince Ira said.
Luci could feel his gaze on her, but she was not prepared for what that meant. Instead, she busied herself with her pumpkin soup and tried to make herself small while conversation volleyed back and forth among the nobles.
It truly was a small gathering. Aside from the Treveons and Vencias, Annabeth and her father were there, as well as two other families from the council. All the same, it was enough for people to forget about her till after the main course, which was the most mouth-watering beef she’d ever tasted in her life. In fact, Luci was confident that if she died right then, she would have died knowing true happiness. Mixed with the carrots and buttered potatoes, it was like being home at Blythe.
There was only one thing that would have perfectly completed the meal.
“Oh, what’s this?” Queen Alexia asked.
A servant slid a perfectly cut slice of golden crust inlaid with peaches and the unmistakable scent of lavender.
Heart in her stomach, Luci lifted her eyes to Prince Ira, who was watching her with a small grin pulling at his dimple.
“Lavender peach pie,” he said.
“How strange. I’m intrigued,” the queen said.
Prince Ira placed his fork into his slice and raised it to her with a wink. What was happening?