Amelie springs forward in her seat, an appalled look on her face. “Evie? Eldest! That’s absurd.”
I pat her knee and say to Foxglove, “Amelie is eldest.”
Amelie leans back in her seat, arms crossed over her chest. “Why would you assume me to be the younger?”
Foxglove scratches the side of his head, then adjusts his spectacles. “I’m not sure. I do suppose you are taller, now that you are sitting upright and no longer have the tears of a small child in your eyes.”
Amelie’s mouth falls open. “Tears of a child? How rude! And another thing. Never mind how tall I am. Even if I wasn’t taller, I’d still be older. Height is hardly an indication.”
I suppress a grin. It’s nice to see Amelie acting like herself again.
“I was certain height was an indication of human age, but I was obviously mistaken,” Foxglove says.
“Does your kind keep growing forever, then?” I ask, imagining monstrous, mountainous fae strolling through the trees, heads above the treetops.
“Only for several hundred years. King Aspen has reached his full height by now, I’m sure, being the thousand years that he is.”
Amelie lets out a gasp. “A thousand years? He’s positively ancient!”
Foxglove nods. “He was born nearly the day the war ended. The tide turned upon his birth, and I say that with some irony, as his mother is Queen of the Sea Court. She was unseelie through and through, as was her husband, King Herne of the Autumn Court. King Herne died during the war, however, leaving Melusine as regent. Somehow, against all odds, King Aspen was born in seelie form, taking his deceased father’s place as heir to the Autumn Court. This, in turn, changed his mother’s heart and brought the majority vote to side with the seelie. The Council of Eleven Courts forged peace with the humans through the treaty.”
“You haven’t answered my question,” Amelie says with a pout. “Who are we each to marry?”
“As the eldest, you will marry King Aspen while Evelyn will marry his younger brother, Prince Cobalt.”
Amelie’s eyes go wide. “I have to marry the Stag King?”
“You do!” Foxglove says. “You’re so lucky. The Stag King is quite yummy to look at. Plus, he has a huge…kingdom, as rumor would have it.” He waggles his brows, his grin wide enough to show his slightly pointed teeth.
Fangs. I knew it—wait. Did he just make an innuendo? “Huge kingdom?”
He winks. “So I’ve heard. Prince Cobalt, on the other hand, has remained much more of a mystery. If he’s taken many lovers, neither he nor they brag about it. Quite a shame. You’ll have to let me know about his…kingdom yourself.”
A blush of heat rises to my cheeks. I most certainly will not be reporting anything about Prince Cobalt’skingdom, for I plan on never laying eyes on it. I give a subtle pat to my dagger, taking comfort that it remains a presence at my side, then avert my gaze to the window, watching golden leaves fall.
Chapter Eight
The journey through Autumn isn’t easy, neither on my body nor my mind. Every muscle aches, both from sitting so long and from tensing due to nerves. Amelie and I were allowed two short breaks during our travels, and these were only to relieve our humanly urges, something I never care to relive again. Nothing could be more frightening than trying to squat behind a tree in the forest of the fae. I could swear every leaf, vine, and branch had eyes, watching me, mocking me. My only hope now is that our new home has a proper toilet.
Then again, whenever I think of ournew home, my mind becomes frazzled, my muscles tense yet again, and I feel like my lungs will collapse in my chest. What awaits us at the end of this carriage ride?
Warm light of the setting sun blazes through the window of the carriage, bathing the inside in a red-orange glow. I lean forward, looking out the window. It seems the trees have cleared, and we are no longer in the dense forest. The sky is every shade of gold, pink, and orange, but the quality of color is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. It glimmers and glows, enhanced by the red leaves of the trees covering the distant hillsides.
I lean back and Foxglove takes my place at the window. “Ah, we’re almost to the palace,” he says.
My heart begins to race. As much as I want the ride to be over, I’m not ready to enter the home of the king and my husband-to-be. The thought alone churns my stomach, making bile rise in my throat.
A moment later, the carriage begins to slow, and I feel the weight shift, as if we’re making an ascent. Amelie grips my hand, chest heaving as she clutches her necklace. Her fingers tremble within mine. Or are mine the ones trembling? With a deep breath, I close my eyes, steadying my nerves and smothering my panic in a blanket of calm. The calm of a surgeon.
The carriage stops. “We’re here,” Foxglove says.
I force myself to open my eyes.Breathe. Hold yourself together.
Foxglove pushes open the carriage door and exits. Amelie’s grip grows tighter, and neither of us makes any move to leave our seats. After a few moments, Foxglove peers back inside. “Come on. Did you not hear? You’re home!”
Another deep breath. My free hand pats my dagger. As if moving through water, I slowly leave the seat and make my way to the door. Amelie trails behind me, her fingers laced in mine. Foxglove offers me his hand as I step from the carriage to the marble path beneath it. More light from the setting sun greets me outside, overwhelming my senses.
Foxglove extends his free hand, indicating the other side of the carriage. “Welcome to Bircharbor Palace.”
