I see through her words. What she did was a mercy, which surprises me more than anything else.
I’m about to thank her when she grins and rubs her hands together. “Now, kingly lord, show me to my fancy digs.”
23
Emma
Igo to my painting appointment again the next morning, though morning is such an odd term for the day realm. Morning in the Nightlands is when the moon just peeks above the trees. Here, the sun is unrelenting, destroying my sense of time passing. Even with the vagaries of forever sunny days, my thoughts are constantly drawn back to Solano. We parted on such a heated note after dinner, I wonder if he’s angry with me.
“Move your hand to the left.” Brunilla peers around her canvas.
I obey and immediately my mind drifts back to the day king.
“What’s the story on the infirmary?”
Her question startles me out of my musings. “What do you mean?”
She shrugs. “I just heard that part of the palace is blocked off now, no one allowed through but the king and the captain of the guard.”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to ask him.”
“The king answers your questions, does he?” She’s stopped painting now, her gaze on me.
“Yes.” Though, come to think of it, he never did explain what had upset Lucidia so much. She didn’t arrive this morning to wake me, which is beyond odd. The guards wouldn’t answer my questions about her, and Brunilla had only shrugged. When I’m done here, I’m going to find her rooms and check on her.
“The high fae don’t generally deign to tell us their plans or reasons, I find.”
“I agree.” I’m not a big supporter of the high fae, though I don’t group Solano with them. I mean, yes, he’s high fae, but he doesn’t treat me like a—
“—pet.”
“Excuse me?” I sit up. Can she hear thoughts?
She waves me back into position then adjusts her enormous glasses. “I was saying, the king treats you like a treasured pet. But you must remember why I’m painting you.”
“Because Solano wants to perv on me at all hours?”
“No.” Her smaller hand holds up a wet paintbrush. “Because you will fade as do all consorts. Your changeling body will not stay so smooth and supple, your breasts will fall, your hair will thin, and eventually, you will be no more. This painting is so the king can own you forever, not just for the short bloom of your youth.”
“Ugh, to the Spires with the ‘bloom of my youth.’” This time I sit up and ignore her commands to get back in position. “Have you been talking to my mother or what? I know I’m a changeling, okay? You don’t have to remind me.” I snatch my robe and stand. “And for someone who seems to hate the high fae, you’re close with Lunarie.”
Her mouth drops open. “How did you—”
“She told me at my ‘meeting with the mean noble fae’.”
She seems to swallow her surprise and comes toward me. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to offend.”
I take a deep breath and let it out. “I’m sorry. I think I just need to be alone for a minute, okay?”
“All right.” She clasps her top set of hands. “We can continue tomorrow. I’ll work on shading in the interim.”
“Sorry,” I say again.
“We have to stick together. Changelings and lesser fae.” She moves closer, her eyes impossibly huge through her lenses. “Together against them,” she whispers.
“The high fae?”
She puts a finger to her lips but nods. “You’re close to the king. That could be helpful.”
