“And you are?”
“Sophina.” She blinks. “He just said my name. Can nightlings hear us?” she whispers to Tritus.
He rolls his eyes.
I’m not sure if she’s being rude or is truly confused. “I can hear you. I meant, what do you do here.”
“Oh.” She smiles, and the fuzzy antennae that sprout from her forehead glow slightly. “I’m the king’s high alchemist.”
“Wow.” I sip more wine. “That’s interesting.”
“It is?” Her small, butterfly-like wings flutter lazily. “I’ve never been called ‘interesting.’ ‘Brilliant’ and ‘crazy’ are my most common descriptors, I’d say.” She looks off dreamily. “Though I once had a lover who called me his ‘rabbit.’”
Tritus chokes on his grassy food.
“I’ve never met an alchemist.” I have so many questions. “Can you make gold from anything at all? Have you heard tales of the Abyss? Did an alchemist create it? Can alchemists talk to the magic? Do you have magic you can use to—”
“Consort.” A servant clears her throat behind me.
I turn. “Hi.”
“The king summons you.” She looks down her nose at me, and I can almost hear her think the word “whore” at me.
Great. “I’ll continue this later.” I push my chair back.
“I’ll save my answers.” Sophina nods, and her antennae curl into tight pinwheels, as if they need a rest.
The room doesn’t go silent, but I can feel a multitude of eyes on me as I follow the servant to the head table. Walking toward a chair, I reach for it, but Solano grabs my wrist.
“You will sit here.” He pulls me onto his lap, and something akin to a gasp sounds nearby.
Gwenarie stands and storms from the room. Lunarie gives Solano an apologetic bow, then takes off after her sister.
“Dramatic much?” I turn to Solano, and I must admit, I’m rather enjoying the way he looks at me, the way he rests one hand easily at my waist, and the intensity in his gaze as he urges my chin up so I have to face him.
“Miss me, nightling?”
Yes. “Not really. I got all these pretty clothes and the nicest bathing room I’ve ever seen, so I’m doing just fine without you.”
The male who’d eyed me earlier snorts a laugh, and Brock shakes his head. The male across from me seems unbothered.
“Just fine? Hmm.” He runs a hand up my thigh, the slit in the dress giving him easy access.
I take in a sharp breath as heat begins to roll through me. Again, I can’t tell if it’s his magic or my wantonness that sets me alight. I shouldn’t be feeling this way, especially when I know what comes of changelings mixing with the high fae. I’ve suffered for it, as has everyone in my village. But perhaps Solano could be different? It’s foolish, but I don’t want to fight this. Maybe I can give in just a little, then resume my hostilities toward the day king.
He rests his hand on my inner thigh but doesn’t push farther. Instead, he takes his other hand and plucks a piece of roasted meat from his plate and holds it to my lips. My stomach rumbles. After all, the only thing I managed to eat was the leafy green stuff that tasted like grass. So, I open, and he presses the morsel between my lips.
I moan as I chew, and he’s quick to offer another piece, then another. Pretty soon, he’s giving me bits of everything on his plate as several nobles watch us while pretending to continue whatever vapid conversation they’re having.
When he rubs his thumb across my lower lip and licks it, heat pools between my thighs. I want him there, soothing the ache, but we made a vow. He can’t have me until he’s desperate for me. Until he … loves me. I didn’t say it out loud when we made the vow, but my mind whispered it to the magic. He can’t claim me fully until he loves me. I can almost hear Mama laughing at me as I squirm on his lap and want the one thing I made it impossible for me to have. After all, he’ll never fall in love with me, not when he has a high fae mate out there somewhere waiting for him. For all I know it’s Gwenarie, though it’s strange that their mate bond hasn’t formed. I thought things like that were pretty instantaneous, but what do I know of fae mating? Not much. All I know for certain right now is that I want Solano to push his fingers higher and stroke me until I can rid myself of my desire for him.
But he doesn’t. He simply traces circles on my heated skin with the tips of his fingers. Leaning back, he pulls me with him until I’m leaning against his chest, his hand still comfortably between my thighs. He’s so warm that I want to snuggle up to him and rest my head in the crook of his neck, but I can’t. Too many nobles are watching, and I don’t have to look at Brock to feel his disapproval.
“Tristano, what are Bladin and Everett hunting?” Solano asks the one with the roving eye.
“They claim there’s a bog witch lurking in the lowlands that needs to be dealt with, but I think they went not to slay her, but to beg her for some of the special brew they’ve heard about.” He shrugs. “I told them to bring me some back.”
“Typical.” Solano sighs, his fingers still moving.
