I slide onto the cool leather seat. Careful to keep my distance from Mother. Fred shuts our doors and takes his place at the wheel. The engine purrs to life and moves off down the drive.
I don’t know why I have such a strong urge to look back at the house. It is only a temporary home. And I’m coming back this evening. I’m not being given away permanently. Not yet, that fate is for another day.
I watch the scenery pass and try not to feel like a man condemned.
All too soon, we reach Buckingham Palace. It looks exactly the same. From the outside. On the inside, it is now the fey court. The headquarters of the new rulers of Britain. And nobody knows what has happened to the human royal family.
A shudder dances along my spine. Maybe I will discover the truth when I am living here.
The car stops, and Fred opens the door for Mother, and then for me. I get out and smooth down my suit jacket.
Then, I stare at the toes of my black shiny shoes, as fey officials come out to greet Mother. Goosebumps erupt all over my flesh. I have never been this close to the fey before. I can feel their strange magic. The strength of it is terrifying, and these are merely officials.
The swish of their silk robes is so alien. I can’t bear to look at their cat-slitted eyes or their startling ethereal beauty.
I swallow. How on earth is the prince going to be pleased with me? Amongst humans, I’m considered extremely pretty. People like my snow-white hair and the Mediterranean-sea blue of my eyes. Unusual colouring, no doubt inherited from my distant fey ancestor.
I’m pretty by human standards solely thanks to fey blood from more than seven generations ago. My looks do not compare to full-blooded fey. Not in the slightest. They are creatures of extraordinary beauty. And an eerie, dangerous grace.
I must look ugly to their eyes.
My future husband must be so disappointed.
I fight the urge to fidget as we are led inside. I keep my gaze firmly on my feet. I always do, and I have no wish to see how Buckingham Palace has been changed. Not until I live here and there is no longer any choice.
My heart starts to race even faster. I need to concentrate on hiding my trembling.
I barely notice my surroundings as we are ushered into a mercifully normal looking drawing room.
There are even more fey in here. A veritable crowd.
I sneak a quick glance. Two of the assembled fey have horns, the fey symbol of royalty.
A surge of adrenaline rushes through my veins. One of the horned fey has loose jet-black hair tumbling all the way to his waist. The other has chestnut brown hair, mostly done up with twists and plaits.
I swallow. I think the brown-haired one is my prince.
I barely hear the introductions. I just about register Prince Dyfri y Mhorrighanogi, and then the name I’ve been waiting for is spoken.
Prince Selwyn y Mabinogi.
My future husband.
Somehow, I remember just in time to curtsy and not bow. Amongst the fey, consorts and vessels curtsy. Regardless of gender.
I hope all my practising has not been in vain.
Introductions are over. Conversations murmur to life. Drinks are served. Ordinary seeming champagne, in ordinary seeming champagne glasses. I take a delicate sip.
Oh my. Everyone is discreetly drifting over to the other side of the large room. Leaving me alone with the brown-haired prince.
Giving the prince a semblance of privacy to inspect his gift.
I take in a breath and lift my gaze. It is polite to let him see what he has been offered.
His deep brown eyes have flecks of amber in them. The dark pupils are slitted like a panther’s. Meeting his gaze sends a jolt through me, one that I feel all the way to my toes. Every single atom of my being reacts. It’s like being struck with electricity.
I cannot look away.
