She shook her head. “Never mind.” She dropped into a chair, rubbing her forehead while still staring down at the letter. “You know this will not go well.” She slowly refolded the missive, keeping her head bowed. “How much should I brace myself? How true were the Fifth Kingdom’s princess’s predictions of my never being accepted?”
“Whisky?” He rose and went to the cabinet for a refill.
“That bad, then?”
“From my mother, aye. From my father, I canna be certain. In most matters that dinna involve my mother, my father has always been a thoughtful, reasonable ruler.” He handed her the drink, then cradled her face in his hand and slowly trailed his thumb back and forth across the scars that had become insignificant. “These marks are nothing. They are not ye, not yer heart, yer kindness, yer caring. I dinna care what they say, my own. Ye are the most glorious woman in all the realms, and I am proud ye are mine.”
Her eyes filled with tears, making her blink rapidly to beat them back. She sniffed, then took a long, deep sip of her whisky. “I can’t say that I’ve ever had whisky for breakfast before.”
“Correspondence from the palace always calls for whisky.”
A hard thud against the door coupled with an irritated growl interrupted them. Jeros went to the door and admitted the disgruntled Fae tiger, who immediately went to Lexi and nuzzled his head into her lap for pets.
“Can Aylryd come with us?” she asked as she rubbed the animal’s ears.
“Absolutely. His presence will help.”
“How so?”
“The prophecy said my mate would be a rare woman loved so much by all the animals that they would harken to her call.” He propped on the edge of the desk, crossing his legs at the ankles. “It said she would be wise and bring something to the Seventh Realm that it sorely needed.”
Lexi eyed him with a dubious look. “Such as what?”
He shrugged and shook his head. “I dinna ken, and it does not matter. Ye brought me something I sorely needed.”
She gently pushed Aylryd back, rose from the chair, and set her glass on the desk. Hugging him with an urgency that told him she was afraid, she rested her head on his shoulder.
“What did I bring you?” she asked quietly, sounding as though it was almost an afterthought. She was worried about this meeting. It shook her. He could feel it.
He held her close and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Ye brought me contentment. A sense of peace. A completeness I have never known before.”
“I am afraid,” she said, “and I hate that feeling worse than anything. It makes me feel like a coward.”
“Says the woman who defied thesluagh na marbhand stole their prey.” He rested his cheek against the silkiness of her hair. “Being afraid does not make ye a coward. It makes ye wise. Cautious. Ye are not a coward, my own, and I dinna believe ye have it in ye to be so.”
She hugged him tighter. “How long will the trip be?”
“The blink of an eye. I shall use theaula regiaspell to transport us there. ’Tis much too dangerous to travel by conventional means. The Fifth Kingdom would not be able to resist attacking us.”
“When do we have to go?”
Jeros smiled, but understood her reluctance completely. He didn’t want to go either. She sounded so small and timid—something she could never possibly be. It stirred his protectiveness of her even more. “They wish us to be there by week’s end. Four days from now.”
She shifted against him with a heavy sigh. “Four days. What should I know? What should I do or not do?”
“Rill and I will ensure ye are prepared. Never fear.”
ChapterTwelve
Lexi stood on a pedestal in the middle of her bedchamber, arms stretched out as if showing off her wingspan. Madame Rosila Shadowcollar, the amazing modiste at Sevenrest, and her trio of seamstresses flitted around her with their iridescent wings, taking measurements, unrolling bolts of silks and satins, and draping them over Lexi’s shoulders to inspect the colors against her skin. Rill stood off to one side, smiling and nodding.
“But I already have so many gowns,” Lexi said for at least the third time, still amazed that she was being dressed by fairies with wings. “Surely, I’ll only need one or two more? Maybe a fancy one for a ball or something?” Dressing to impress really wasn’t in Lexi’s wheelhouse. Jeans and boots were her uniform.
Madame Rosila shook her head while clucking like a nesting hen. “Oh no, my lady, no…no…a thousand times no. Ye must be perfection itself. Ye are his Royal Highness’s consort as predicted by the prophecy.”
Perfection itself.Lexi couldn’t help but groan. “Rill?”
The maid curtsied and stepped closer. “Aye, my lady?”
