Lowri’s lips quirked into a knowing grin. “Is that so, human?”
My friend collected men the way some women collected shoes—and threw them away with about the same consideration when they were “worn out.”
He winked a bloodshot eye, then leaned forward to whisper something that left Lowri’s cheeks flushed. If her father knew the way she carried on, he’d have her head. But since he and his wife had chosen not to undergo the three-day voyage from Iodale, he never would.
Lowri tossed the daisies aside and tackled Kerrington to the ground. Their low murmurs and moans were impossible to ignore.
“I’m still here,” I reminded them, wiping my wet fingers on one of the lace serviettes beside a half-drunk glass of faerie wine. Although we’d brought twenty crates of the drink with us on the boat last month, the bottles were nearly gone.
“You’re more than welcome to join us,” Kerrington muttered before kissing Lowri again.
My fiancé’s best friend was the worst of rogues, with a mischievous gleam in his mossy green eyes. Lowri had met her match there.Kerrington was meant to follow in his father’s footsteps as one of the king’s advisors, but it appeared his interests revolved around more carnal pursuits. I’d told Lowri as much, that getting involved with someone like him could only lead to heartache. She’d shrugged, claiming he was a mere distraction until she found her own happily-ever-after.
A young maid with brown hair appeared on the path between two laurel hedges, her arms laden with a tray of tea cakes to replenish the ones we’d already eaten. Although the food in this country lacked flavor, the desserts were palatable enough. Her gray skirt swayed when she stopped to set the tray beside the empty one. Glasses and dishes clinked together as she gathered the remnants from our picnic.
She looked the same as the other maids who flitted around the castle: white apron, white mop cap, gleaming black boots—
Not gleaming. Hole-ridden and coming apart at the seams.
Kerrington shoved Lowri off his lap to grin at the newcomer. “And who do we have here?”
Lowri adjusted the front of her cornflower blue dress, a deep blush creeping up her throat.“You heard him. What’s your name, girl?”
“I-it’s Falin, milady,” the maid stuttered, giving us a terrible curtsy.
“Was that meant to be a curtsy?” Lowri laughed. “And what is the matter with your boots? It’s a wonder they let someone so slovenly work in the castle.”
I understood Lowri’s sudden ire after some of the vicious slurs and outright disdain I’d been forced to endure since our arrival.
Not a drop of royal blood.
Stealing our throne.
Used magic to wheedle her way into our prince’s heart.
I’d even overheard two courtiers saying I had ears like a troll. I could fashion a glamour to hide them, but why? So the humans could be more comfortable around me because I looked like them? Who cared what my ears looked like? They didn’t have any bearing on how I would one day rule as queen.
The humans would get used to it eventually, especially once more fae returned to Vellana.
Until then, Lowri, my mother, and I were the only three fae on the island. We needed to stick together and prove that we wouldn’t cower in light of anyone’s disdain for us. Still, this particular maid had done nothing wrong.
Lowri tapped her feet in delight, her silver slippers sparkling in the sunlight as she plucked a tea cake from the platter, took a bite, then spat it in the grass next to the servant’s decrepit boots. “Did you make these?”
“Y-yes, milady.”
“Well, they’re revolting.”
“Lowri . . .” I started to reprimand her, but the words stuck in my throat, caught between loyalty to my best friend—to the fae—and what I knew in my heart was right. Calling her out in front of Kerrington and the maid would do more harm than good. I’d speak with her tonight when we no longer had an audience.
Kerrington took a massive bite of his own cake. “I think they’re excellent.”
Lowri grabbed another cake and smashed it on his head, collapsing in a fit of giggles at his indignant snort. Kerrington removed the smashed cake from his head to eat it, washing the morsel down with the bottle of wine, seeming unbothered by the way the frosting clung to his red hair.
A dark figure rounded the hedge, and I resisted the urge to groan. As much as I loved the idea of being queen, there were some downsides. Namely one tall, black-haired, evil downside.
Prince Caiman.
My love’s terrible younger brother, and the worst of the fae haters. The awful things he’d said about me had taught me a valuable lesson in trusting the wrong man. One I would not soon forget.