Although he didn’t look pleased, he retreated.
“Is the GancanaghinGuaire?” the wasp clipped.
I stretched my legs, trying to get comfortable on the blasted trunk. “Not at present. But I have some business to attend to before we travel to his castle.” Business that involved the wasp and I in a scandalous situation, stripped bare of her stuffy, high-necked dress.
The half-truth slipped from my lips with only a blip of pain in my head.
Funny that living with a truth curse for so long had made me an even better liar.
Her nose wrinkled the way Rían’s did when he saw stains on my clothes. “What sort of business could you possibly have that cannot wait?”
What business could I possibly have?
Whatbusiness?
I’d show her what feckin’ business. Beautiful or not, I’d need to be drunk to give such a condescending, holier-than-thou feckin’ human a ride.
I yanked my bag from the floor, found my flask where I’d left it, and took a long drink. With the fiery liquid still coating my tongue, I smiled at the wasp and said, “The type of business that’s none of yours.”
Ohhhshe did not like that. Not one bit.
Her teeth ground together, as if she were chewing glass. “Padraig? Will you take us to Guaire, please?”
A small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
The coachman, Padraig, latched the door. The carriage lurched forward when we took off. My spine scraped off the wall. The line of rivets beneath me would definitely leave a bruise.
This was a nice box, as far as boxes went, another sign of her obvious wealth. What else could I glean without actually having a conversation?
All-black dress. Interesting choice of attire. Rather dour, though, for one so young. Black was usually something you saw on elderly humans.
She wore no jewelry to speak of, save a simple gold band on her left ring finger.
Hold on.
She was married?
How had I missed that last night?
Feck it all. No wonder she showed no interest. If she was as rigid as her posture, there’d be no hope of me convincing her to let me warm her bed. I took another slug of faerie wine.
My brother would be unbearable when he found out he’d won back one of his cufflinks.
Feck it anyway.
Time to formulate a backup plan. The portal in Port Fear was five days’ drive southwest. If I couldn’t convince her to give me the ring by then, I’d bring her through, emerge next to the Black Forest, and scare the human out of her wits. Then, I’d agree to pay the Queen’s Death tax with my own life in exchange for the ring. Simple.
“I’m not sure you realize this,” I said, determined to turn this day around, “but you never gave me your name.” Calling her “wasp” to her face probably wouldn’t garner any goodwill.
“You may call me Lady Keelynn.”
That feckin’tone.
She may be wearing a fine gown and shiny boots, but she wasn’t better than me.
“Keelynn.” A beautiful name, old as the hills rolling past the window. “Slender and fair.” The woman may have been both, but she was also an awful uppity snob. If there was one thing I couldn’t stand, it was a human with a chip on her shoulder. “I suppose it would suit you if you weren’t planning on committing a heinous murder.”
Color climbed from beneath her high collar, painting her jaw a dusky rose. “I suppose it’s a good thing I’m not paying you for your opinion.”