Her father frowned.
“I can’t control the succession,” he muttered, glancing around as if looking for a seat. He found one at the dining table by which I stood, his eyes flashing over me with disinterest before settling into the chair at the head of the table.
“What succession?” Cass bellowed, throwing her arms up in annoyance as she strode forward and he sat down. “You’re here. You’re alive. There is no throne to ascend to, no succession to take place.”
“Not yet.”
Cass stilled, halting mid stride in the center of the room. Her father’s frown deepened and she resumed her walk until she stood beside him again.
“What do you mean?” she asked, her tone lowering.
His eyes slid to me.
“Who is your friend, Casseiopia?” he asked, shrewd gaze examining me from head to toe.
“This is Ren,” Cass introduced simply, with no further explanation. But that did not satisfy the King . He raised a brow and she sighed. “Lark brought her with him from the mortal realm.”
The King slammed his hand on the table.
“See?” he bellowed, pointing a finger at his daughter, jaw clenched in a way that reminded me of his son. “He goes too far! Always too far. I told you. I—”
“She is Ariadne’s daughter.”
He faltered, finger dropping as he turned to face me with fresh interest.
“Half Fae,” he muttered, jaw slackened.
“Welcome here,” Cass said as if in reminder, “by your own decree.”
He blinked at me, lips still parted in surprise.
“Yes, yes,” he agreed, waving his daughter off and pointing, instead, at me. “The last I saw you, you were but a babe. How old are you now?”
“Sixty,” I told him.
“Sixty,” he repeated, taking me in again, no doubt examining my appearance, the way I looked nineteen or twenty. “Fascinating.”
“It’s a real head scratcher,” Cass said then, obviously irritated at the change in the course of the conversation. “But father, about Lark—”
“Canis.”
“Yes, Canis.”
“I always hated that Lark business. Doubtlessly, he came by that wretched name from that boy he was always hanging around with. The one I banished too.”
“Father, please. Forgive his premature return. With you falling… ill, and Taurus having run away to the Court of Rivals and Ursa off doing God knows what—”
“I know what. I know what she’s doing. I sent her there myself. I don’t need your lecture, Casseiopia. I’m still the boy’s father. I know what’s best for him.”
“Canis hasn’t been a boy for four hundred years, father.”
I balked. Four hundred years.
“Leave us, Casseiopia,” the King commanded then, his gaze firmly on me. “I wish to speak with the Halfling.”
Halfling. I flinched. That was almost as bad as hybrid.
Cass’ gaze flicked to me, uncertain. But I gave her a solemn nod and she departed, the skirts of her dress billowing like the night itself behind her. Neither one of us spoke until she was gone. Then, the King was smiling up at me.
