“Ready?” I ask.
She blanches a little, then nods.
Lorelei waits for us outside our door. We find her leaning against the opposite wall with her arms crossed. “Finally,” she mutters, then takes off down the hall.
As we follow, I try to memorize every turn we make, to familiarize myself with the halls and doors, but I keep finding myself drawn to Lorelei’s now-unmistakable limp.
I avert my gaze back to our surroundings, to the staircase up ahead. We climb it, and I feel a cool breeze, again carrying the smell of salt. As we reach the top of the staircase, an enormous room comes into view. Open air greets us at the other side of the room from a wide expanse cut from the wall, lined with a white rail, and interspersed with citrine columns. The air is cool without being unpleasant, and the night is dark beyond it.
At the center of the room is a long table with two ornate chairs on each end. One chair is taller than the other, its legs and back in the shape of twining branches, or—more accurately—antlers. The chair on the other side is similar in design but with a shorter back. The table is laden with plates of food, thick yellow candles, and numerous cups and bottles. Along the length of the table are about a dozen much simpler chairs.
The room is empty, save for Foxglove, standing near the open expanse. Lorelei waves for us to follow as she crosses the room toward him.
He turns with a wide grin, adjusts his spectacles, then assesses Amelie and me. “Ah, much better. The king and prince will arrive shortly.”
The smell of salt is stronger now, and I hear a rhythmic crashing. Curiosity draws me forward, and I look over the rail. Vertigo seizes me as the world seems to fall away, plummeting down into a black expanse below. I grab the rail, steadying myself, and blink a few times to clear my vision. Once stabilized, I see the palace is built at the edge of a sea cliff. The ocean sends waves lapping up and down the shore. As my eyes adjust to the moonlit dark, I notice something else about the shore. Dark holes pock the ground, like chasms. Some of the water reaches them, disappearing into their depths before the water recedes and gathers into another wave.
“King Herne built Bircharbor Palace at the edge of the sea,” Foxglove explains, “to be near his wife, Queen Melusine.”
“The Queen of the Sea Court,” I say, remembering his story from earlier. “Didn’t you say the king died in the war?”
“He did.” His tone is mournful. “King Aspen could take up residence elsewhere in Autumn, especially considering Queen Melusine rarely visits land much these days. Yet he remains here. It is a lovely palace.”
I lean over the rail again, watching the waves crash upon the shore. “What are those holes in the ground?”
“Ah, you’ll have to look again when it’s day. The beach gives way to coral and those are coral caves. Queen Melusine constructed them. Some think they lead to her underwater palace, but it’s nothing more than a menace of a maze, if you ask me. Anyone who’s ever tried to map the caves drowns by high tide. Even the sea fae who’ve tried never succeeded. Only Queen Melusine seems to know how to navigate them, and she prefers to keep her secrets to herself.”
“The lesson being, don’t go swimming,” Lorelei says.
“Very true,” Foxglove says with a grave nod. “Better avoided altogether. At low tide, you’ll fall into a cave before you make it out to deep enough water for a swim. Even then, you’ll find yourself trapped on the other side of the caves and get dashed into the coral. At high tide, you’re lucky if the current doesn’t suck you into the caves or worse.”
“Or, again, dash you into the coral,” Lorelei adds.
“Lesson understood,” I mutter.
“I don’t like swimming,” Amelie says, wrinkling her nose at the sight of the dark ocean.
“Neither do I,” Foxglove says. “The salt dries out my hair, and I can’t get it looking right for days. I prefer to lie down for a seaside tan in the Summer Court, where the waves are less obnoxious.”
A smile twitches at the corners of my lips. Despite my best efforts, Foxglove is growing on me.
“Are these our new guests?” A new voice rings out behind us, male, and dare I say…joyful?
The four of us whirl around to face the newcomer. Foxglove and Lorelei fall into easy bows while Amelie and I sink into clumsy curtsies half a minute too late. I wait until Foxglove and Lorelei rise before I do the same. Amelie’s pinkie winds its way around my own.
Foxglove takes a step forward. “May I present to you Amelie and Evelyn Fairfield.”
The fae male grins, taking confident steps toward us. His face is somehow both boyish and ancient at once, with dimpled cheeks, high cheekbones, and glittering blue eyes. His hair is straight and a deep shade of blue so dark it’s almost black, loose strands falling over his forehead and brushing the tips of his pointed ears. He wears blue-black trousers and a jacket with an indigo waistcoat patterned with gold stitching and a blue cravat.
He bows, then looks from me to Amelie. “Pleased to make your acquaintance. I’m Prince Cobalt.”
I can’t take my eyes off him, much less speak. In all my terrified imaginings, I never thought a fae could look so regal, so kind, so…attractive. And he’s—oh for the love of iron, he’s Prince Cobalt. My husband-to-be. I can’t tell if the thought terrifies me or excites me. Shame reigns supreme when I consider it could be the latter. I remind myself he’s fae and recall everything I’ve heard about Faerwyvae. I can’t afford to be flustered by a pair of blue eyes.
I open my mouth to relay a greeting, but Amelie beats me to it. “It’s a pleasure.” Her tone is formal, which I’m grateful for. By the look in her eyes, I can tell she’s as enchanted as I am by his appearance. Still, she’s keeping her composure, which means she has her head on her shoulders. Good.
A dark shadow looms behind the prince. Cobalt turns, bowing his head.
Again, Foxglove and Lorelei sink into bows. This time Amelie and I are quicker to catch on. When we rise from our curtsies, the Autumn King’s eyes are on me.
