I pace the room until my doors open once again. This time, I recognize the face of the fae. It’s the handsome male, the one who thanked me for my mercy. As he approaches, I ask, “Are you Vane?”
“I am,” he says in a whisper as he sets down the tray. “Ocher said you asked for me.”
“I did, and I thank you for coming.” One of the guards shifts outside my door but remains facing away from me. “I’ll make this fast. Was anything amiss when you served my sister the night she disappeared?”
Color rises to his beautifully pale cheeks, and a flash of guilt crosses his face. “I brought honey pyrus wine. King Aspen was furious. But it was an accident, I swear—”
“Never mind that,” I say. “What was she like when you saw her? Did she seem…troubled?”
He looks taken aback for a moment. “No, she looked serene. Smiling. Laughing. She seemed to think me bringing the wrong kind of wine was nothing more than a silly joke.”
I chew my bottom lip. “Did anything else happen? You said Aspen was furious. What exactly did he do?”
“The king realized what kind of wine I’d brought almost as soon as I’d set it down. He stopped Amelie just before she went to pour herself a glass. Then he took the tray and said he’d get the wine himself. Made me take him to the kitchen and show him our wine stores, explain the mishap. He scolded me but nothing more. Then he left with a bottle of Bloodberry wine.”
“Is that a…normal kind of wine?”
He shrugs, then points at the tray. “It’s what I brought you here. It’s served at most common meals. And it doesn’t cause dangerous hallucinations in humans, if that’s what you mean.”
“What about when Aspen left you? Did he seem angry still? In any kind of rage?”
“No,” Vane says. “I apologized so many times, he had to order me to stop. Once he left, he seemed perfectly forgiving, which is why I was so surprised when he ordered our execution the next day.”
I press my lips tight together, wondering how much he knows about my responsibility for that predicament. “There’s nothing else you can think of? Nothing that seemed strange?”
“After what you did to make the king find mercy, I wish there was something I could say to help you, but there isn’t.”
I sigh, all my hopes for potential answers dashed like waves upon jagged rocks. Then one more question comes to mind. “Were any of the servants overly friendly with Amelie? Was sheintimatewith any of them?” At another blush from Vane, I add, “That includes you.”
“We all found her to be fair, for a human,” he says, “but no one dared take her to bed or do more than look at her. No one would be so stupid to court the king’s betrothed. In fact,” he casts an anxious glance behind him at the guards outside the door, “I’ve likely overstayed my welcome.”
I want to drill him with more questions, but he’s probably right. Besides, I’m not sure what else to ask. All further questions I’d prepared hinged on him having something of value to tell me. “Very well. Thank you for speaking with me.”
Once he’s gone, I’m left alone to ponder the conversation. It leaves me just as frustrated as I was before. Speaking to Vane had been my one great idea, my one way to possibly gain some sense of control over the questions that continue to plague me. I should have known better than to get my hopes up. The longer I’ve been in Faerwyvae, the less control I seem to have. Nothing makes any more sense than it did when I arrived. There’s no explanation for much of the fae’s supposed magic, no clues to what happened the night Amelie died, and no evidence anything will ever make sense again.
There’s only one thing left to do. I pour myself a glass of wine and sprinkle a pinch of salt into it. With a raise of my glass to no one, I mutter, “Might as well enjoy my freedom.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Dread settles over me as the third day dawns since Aspen left, and I realize he’ll be returning any time now. My days without him have been peaceful and uneventful. Then again, I suppose that’s what they were like the few days leading up to his departure as well. Still, I can’t help but think all that will eventually change. He’ll hassle me to join his bed. Or try and get me to submit to the fae Bonding ritual. He’ll stir my anger and I’ll stir his, I just know it.
I freeze, noticing my inexplicable flush of excitement at the thought.
Well, I must be more bored than I thought.
The day comes and goes. Then another.
A new dread begins to emerge, one that has me pacing the open expanse in the dining room after breakfast while Lorelei watches with concern.
“What if something happened?” I mutter.
“The king will be fine, I’m sure of it,” Lorelei says.
I roll my eyes. “Not to him. To the treaty or something.”
“Give Foxglove some credit. He spins truces even better than he spins that pretty hair of yours. If they aren’t back yet, it’s likely only because they are negotiating the finer details.”
“What if Mr. Holstrom refuses? I mean,anythingcould happen.” In fact, I’ve spent the best part of two days analyzing every possible logical outcome. Most end in war. “Blazing iron, if my marriage to Aspen ends up being for nothing, I’ll be livid. And if it turns out he’s to blame for breaking the treaty, I’ll kill him my—”
