I drop into a quick curtsy and then look up. Prince Consort Jamie is not alone. Sitting at the beautifully laid table with him are two others. A large, very muscled man wearing barely anything. And a tiny, extraordinarily pretty man with long blond hair.
The Prince Consort smiles at me and beckons me over. He is beautiful, with brown hair and kind eyes. I can see how the Crown Prince fell for him.
“Lawrence!” he beams. “This is Blake, Prince Mabon’s pet, and Ollie, Prince Tristan’s pet.”
My eyes slide to the pretty collars around their necks. I pull my gaze away before I am caught staring.
“Delighted to meet you,” I say.
“Come, sit down.” Jamie pulls out the seat next to him.
I step towards it.
“Oh!” he says suddenly. “Is it alright if I call you Lawrence? I should have asked. Should it be Lord something or other?”
Bless him. Vessels are not granted any titles until they are married. Unless they are in the rare position of inheriting. But he doesn’t need to know any of that.
I stare into his kind eyes and lick my lips. I glance around the table. I frigging hate the name Lawrence, but Mother will be angry if I don’t use it. But soon these people will be my family, and hopefully in the future I will be spending more time with them than with her.
I suck in a shaky breath. “My friends call me Laurie.”
That’s a lie, because I don’t have any friends. But again, that’s not something he needs to know.
“Laurie! How lovely!” His warm brown eyes flash. I think he has been at the fey court long enough to believe in the importance and power of names.
I take my seat. Jamie pours me a cup of tea. I thought the lowest-ranked person poured the tea? Is he honouring me, or simply being human and informal and not caring about etiquette?
I mumble some thanks and sip the tea. I guess I’ll never know.
I glance up and find vivid green eyes staring at me intently. A lazy coil of magic drifts over me. Oh, that’s interesting. Prince Tristan’s pet is a vessel. The few times we have been in the same room, it has been with hundreds of other people. I didn’t notice his magic.
“Do you know Luci? Count Consort Felford?” he asks. “He’s all fancy like you.”
I carefully place my teacup down. “Sadly, I have not had the pleasure.”
I may have attended a ball or other social function where he was present, but I don’t recall. Which is a shame since he is a legendary figure now. A vessel so powerful, he enabled his husband to open the portals and allow the fey to return.
I wonder how Prince Tristan’s pet knows him? It’s pretty clear Ollie isn’t nobility, despite being a vessel. It’s also pretty clear he has a lot of fey blood in his ancestry. He is an intriguing person, that’s for sure.
Suddenly, the door opens, and Prince Dyfri strides in.
My first instinct is to politely get to my feet and give him a curtsy, but then I remember my latest fey etiquette lesson. No bowing or curtsying to rhocyn. Even if they are also a prince. I still have no idea what a rhocyn is, orwhy Prince Dyfri is one. But at least I know how to behave around them.
“So sorry the servants couldn’t find me to deliver my invitation,” Dyfri says sweetly.
Oh crumbs. There isn’t another place setting. He definitely wasn’t invited.
Jamie flushes red. “Pinky, can you set another place, please?”
The pink-haired servant scowls, but quickly sets another place. Dyfri sits down and picks up the teapot. As he pours himself a cup of tea, he speaks.
“Or is this a human-only gathering?”
“Of course not!” Jamie splutters indignantly.
Blake shifts uncomfortably. Ollie is glaring down at his teacup. The bright sunny window behind them seems incongruous with their discomfort.
“Ah! I get it,” says Dyfri as he brings his teacup to his lips. “You didn’t want to scare the delicate flower.”
