I have no idea what is happening. I’ve never been so confused or so lost in my life.
Numbly, I shake his hand. “Oleander Evans,” I mutter, since we seem to be doing introductions.
“Let’s have tea,” says my unexpected host.
A short while later, I’m sitting in a sunny room, at a table set with a pristine white tablecloth, while the stranger pours tea from a silver teapot.
“Where is Tristan?” I ask pathetically. I could really do with something familiar right now.
“In the library, with my husband, Count Felford. Probably discussing magic theory.”
I take a sip of tea. Holy smokes, this is good tea. Really good tea. However, it’s not helping my complete and utter bewilderment, not even one little bit.
“Husband?” I grumble. “Why is everyone I meet, gay?”
My host narrows his eyes. “Because you are lucky?”
I blink. I don’t know what response I was expecting, but it wasn’t that. My gaze reassesses my host. They are wearing a dress and Tristan called them Luci. Oh lord. I am so out of my depth. I’ve never met anyone like this before.
“Are you a girl?” I blurt.
“No,” says Luci calmly. “I am a boy. But it was good of you to ask.”
Was it? Was it not a social faux pas? I don’t mind being rude, but I like to do it on purpose. Not by accident. Frantically, I sip some more tea.
“May I ask you a question?” says Luci.
Well, that would only be fair enough. I nod, a little too vigorously.
“Forgive me, but I’ve never met anyone who looked as fey as you do, and everyone I know is a fey descendent.”
My eyebrows lift in surprise. That’s interesting. I was under the impression that there weren’t many of us. And is Luci saying he himself is a nisny and not just a vessel? He looks fully human to me. I suppose that is why he is asking his question, he is just as confused as I am at the differences between us.
I shrug. “I’m from a tiny Welsh village. There is not much else to do and not much choice of people to do it with.”
It is my only theory, and it seems reasonable to me. The answer is simply that I have more fey blood than he does.
Luci’s eyes grow large and pink tinges his cheeks. Oh crap. Was that vulgar? I was trying not to be. I’ve never met a posh human before and it seems their standard for polite conversation is a lot higher than I am capable of.
“You don’t sound Welsh?” says Luci, expertly steering the conversation onto safer ground.
“My family moved to England for a few years when I was a kid and the accent stuck,” I explain.
I’m not going to overshare and ramble about my teenage rebellious phase and how it worked out well because now I really don’t want to sound like I belong to a community that hates me. And I’m definitely not going to babble about Granny’s wankstain of a boyfriend being the reason we moved, because that really is irrelevant.
Luci nods as if my heavily edited explanation makessense, and he takes another sip of his tea. Oh stars. He isn’t going to tell Tristan that I’m Welsh, is he? That would blow my eavesdropping powers.
I suck in a breath. I’m being paranoid. It is not a topic of conversation that is likely to come up. Besides, it is too late now, so there is no point in panicking.
“What do you know about being a vessel?” Luci asks.
“Zero,” I reply. It is the easiest question I have ever been asked.
Luci gives me a soft smile. “Well, that is an easy enough starting point.”
Urgh. I think I’ve been introduced to another nice person. As if Jamie isn’t bad enough. Nice people are exhausting. It is so hard trying not to be a nasty shit, and when I fail, I feel awful. Give me a fellow asshole anyday. So much simpler.
“The very basic premise is that you absorb magic from the world around you, but it is difficult for you to wield it, so you need to give it to a mage.”
