Miranda’s muscles locked as she said, “Graves is not a good man, Liddy. He’s…well, he’s a monster and I won’t let him marry my sister.”
“How on earth is Graves a monster? All I hear are his praises. My mother was furious that Cordelia was chosen when I am also human and a few years older.” She shrugged. “I hardly care either way, but I suppose it would have been nice to secure a match that would end Mother’s urgency to find me one.”
Miranda rubbed her arms, though the room was a pleasant, tepid spring temperature. “He…well, he just, he’s not…good. Promise me you won’t forget that. He talks nicely, but it’s all a lie.”
“How do you know, Miranda? What happened?”
Miranda shook her head and closed her eyes to the rush of memories. She refused to let them devour her again, not here. She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I keep him as far from Cordelia as possible. This information was supposed to do that.”
“What about the books?” Lydia stood up. “This is the section on demons…” She pointed to a section of ten books and then let her eyes wander. “So then over here…” Her finger hovered in front of the spines as she read and walked, Lydia eventually found the books on Faery.
“Here we are. Which court?” Lydia asked.
“Um, well, Graves is Night Fae, so Night?”
Lydia passed over Summer, Winter, and Day until she found the singular book on the Night Court. “Ah. Seems you have even less literature on them than demons.”
Miranda sighed. “My father always said they were the last to sign the accords, perhaps they aren’t big on sharing their knowledge with outsiders.”
“Is the faery language universal?”
“Possibly. Our lessons on the faery language included counting to ten and some colors. Damn it.” Miranda bared her teeth and started to pace. There wasn’t likely to be anywhere outside the courts themselves where she might find a translator. Fae and humans might be trying to coexist, but each race still kept to their borders. She was unlikely to find books to aid her in a translation and going to a person with this sort of information was out of the question.
Graves was beloved and duplicitous. She couldn’t risk him finding out what she was doing. He controlled high society the way Thaddeus Wraith controlled the criminal underground. The first Night Fae to run on a campaign of tolerance and peace, he embraced every idealistic policy proposed in parliament. He was personable, charming. A fox dancing with his prey like equals.
Her prize mocked her. She shouldn’t have waited until she was home, she should have checked the contents and thrown them back in Wraith’s face as the mockery it was. She’d been so…distracted, so disarmed by that annoying—
Miranda stopped pacing.
“What is it?” Lydia returned the book she’d been skimming to the shelf and went to Miranda. “Did you think of something?”
“I may have,” Miranda started, words forced through her clenched jaw. This was the worst solution imaginable, but if Miranda recalled enough of her mother’s lessons it was possibly the only solution. “How much do you know about Lord Devin Drake?”
Lydia frowned. “The name is familiar…is he the one that inherited out of nowhere? Mother called him a half-fae who no one had any clue existed until Lord Warner died.”
“That’s what my mother said as well, it was quite the scandal last year.” Miranda chewed her lip, thoughts returning to the club. He was only half-fae which explained why he appeared entirely human save the ethereal blue of his eyes.
“I suppose he might read Faery, but I don’t see how that helps you.” Lydia adjusted her spectacles. She was never without them, the lenses obscured her eyes so that it was hard to see where she was looking or the exact color, though Miranda had always assumed they were brown.
“Well…I was actually with him not hours ago.”
Lydia’s jaw fell open. “That’s quite the scandal, Miranda. What were you doing with a Lord at such an hour?” Her pale cheeks flushed with color. “I wasn’t aware either of you were even acquainted.”
“We’re not. And it wasn’t like that, so please don’t think I was out pursuing any sort of lascivious activities. Honestly, the thought alone is repulsive enough.” As if to prove her wrong, her mind conjured the image of Drake’s very handsome face as he whispered seductive words against her ear. She closed her eyes briefly, hoping to force him from her mind. “Repulsive. I’d sooner endure a hundred of my mother’s eligible bachelors than his annoying flirtation.”
Lydia looked ready to laugh, her lips forming a tight smile like she were holding it in. “That’s quite the protest. I’m sure to believe you now.”
Miranda narrowed her eyes. Lydia was not observant of anything outside of a page, so it was hard to say if she was sincere or placating.
“Anyway, I have reason to believe that he will help me.”
“Are your cheeks red, Miranda?”
The words hit like a slap and Miranda hid her cheeks with her hands. “No, of course not. Why on earth would I be blushing?”
“Oh, you weren’t. But you are now.” Lydia giggled.
“I was merely caught off guard. Drake is insufferable. Full of himself. Arrogant.” Miranda took a deep breath. “But he may be my only hope of translating this.”
