Solano stiffens but doesn’t move.
“I’m Emma.” I don’t know what else to say, especially when my stomach is churning from nothing more than this noble’s touch. Pulling my hand away, I stand my ground.
“You are rather striking, aren’t you, changeling?” His eyes lift to my hair. “I’m almost certain I chanced across your mother on my journey here.”
My blood goes cold.
“Speaking of your journey. How did you arrive so quickly? The trip isn’t particularly difficult from the Nightsbane border crossing, but it’s long.” Solano changes the subject and motions us to the table. “It’s almost as if—” He sits at the head with me to his right and Lord Caroldon to his left. “As if you were near Moonhollow when I made my selection. But surely not.” Solano smiles, but it’s cold, so unlike the smiles he’s given me. “After all, we were set upon by seekers shortly after we left that village. If you were nearby, you would’ve come to our aid.”
Lord Caroldon takes a long drink of his wine. “I chanced upon the village shortly after your departure. My hunting party had become separated, and I learned of your disastrous selection only by a stroke of luck.” He smiles, his fangs gleaming. “Of course, I informed King Sigrid immediately, and he set me upon my path to you.”
Disastrous selection?
“Of course,” Solano continues as if Caroldon said nothing amiss and motions for the servants to bring platters of food. “But what luck to have you here now.”
The table is markedly empty. None of Solano’s trusted warriors are here, not even the sulking Brock is available to frown at me with judgment in his stark eyes.
“Tell me, how is King Sigrid? The last I heard, he’d been stricken with some sort of a magical ailment?” Solano cuts his meat as I watch Lord Caroldon. I’m a lot of things, but a fool isn’t one of them. The Nightlands noble has already lied about why he was near my village—he’s no hunter. Will he tell the truth now?
“The king is in excellent health. He keeps his many consorts busy, I can tell you. Why, he let me borrow two recently, and they were like two lifeless fish, so drained from his attentions.” He points his knife at me. “You do us proud, nightling. Don’t cry and mewl and try to escape like those fools I had in my bed. When I caught them and lashed them, they simply lay there. No spirit. Nothing.” He shrugs and goes back to his meal. “But I used them well, despite their lack of enthusiasm.”
Solano’s hand covers mine.
I didn’t realize I’d gripped my own knife tightly enough for my knuckles to go white.
“Consorts can be fickle, indeed.” He pats my hand and gives me a concerned glance.
I drop the knife. Not because I think he’d frown on me using it. He’s just as repulsed at the vile monster across the table as I am. I can feel it. But Solano wants to loosen up his guest, get him talking.
“Fickle. That’s one word for them.” Lord Caroldon looks at my chest. “Have you any inclination to share this one?”
“No.” Solano waves a bored hand. “I haven’t properly broken her in. I’m afraid she’d disappoint.”
“You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?” Lord Caroldon’s lascivious gaze takes me in, and I shudder.
Solano motions for more wine. “The seekers that attacked us seemed to know our exact path and when we’d be on it.” His voice has an edge to it.
“Oh?” Lord Caroldon affects a puzzled expression. “Those mindless creatures aren’t capable of hatching a plan. They must have simply run across you by accident.”
“So many accidents.” Solano sighs, then his cold smile returns. “But happy ones, as they’ve brought you to us.”
“I’ve always wanted to holiday in the day realm, I confess.” Caroldon looks up to the open ceiling at the lazy clouds that flit across the blue sky. “Try the females, enjoy the easy life. But the journey here wasn’t easy, not when my cargo insisted upon being unruly. Whippings were necessitated at every stop. And sometimes—” He licks his lips. “I had to be a bit more firm.”
Solano holds up his goblet. “A strong hand is always necessary, I find.”
“Indeed.” Lord Caroldon joins his toast, then throws back the wine.
I’m lost. Caroldon whipped cargo? Who does that? I don’t know, but their back-and-forth curbs my appetite for some reason. Picking at my food, I listen as they discuss border issues, farming, and trade. They’ve veered away from Moonhollow and the seekers as Caroldon continues downing his wine.
“I’ve sent my warriors to investigate the attacks I mentioned.” Solano leans back in his seat, the picture of royal excess and disdain. So different from the real him. Or perhaps the fae he shows me is the fake? I don’t like the thought of that at all.
Lord Caroldon samples a dessert, the top a whirlwind of spun sugar. We have nothing like it in the night realm, but even its sweetness can’t tempt me to take another bite.
“These attacks, as you call them, how can you be sure they aren’t done by your own people?” Lord Caroldon crunches the sugar. “In any case, the Nightlands are happy to help with any security needs you may have. I’m certain King Sigrid would be happy to send soldiers—”
“No.” Solano’s expression is tight, but he shrugs. “Thank you. It’s a kind offer, but I’m certain I’ll find who’s behind it. And when I do, my vengeance will be certain and swift.” He snaps his fingers, and the sugary bits of Lord Caroldon’s dessert turn into a smoldering black heap.
He puts his spoon down and rises. “Apologies, my lord, but my travels were quite taxing. Might you forgive me if I turn in early?” He looks up. “I believe it’s early. So hard to tell with the garish sun bearing down at all hours, isn’t it, nightling?” He cuts his gaze to me.
