Now, as I walk down the halls, I can feel each breeze as if I were naked. All the fae dresses have been light and gauzy, but this one is unlike any I’ve worn so far. The plum spider silk is tight around my torso, then flows outward at the waist, trailing past my ankles. Its plunging neckline reveals a generous portion of my curving breasts, and the silk barely covers the rest.
At least Foxglove let me keep my dagger strapped to my thigh, the only argument I won. I blanched when he muttered that I might end up needing it.
I tug at one of my long bronze earrings, fashioned into a strand of maple leaves. “Is all this really necessary?” I ask Foxglove.
He and Lorelei exchange a glance. “You’ll see,” he says.
I hold my breath as we enter the formal dining room. There at the other end, standing at the rail I left not long ago, is Queen Melusine. She’s facing away from us, so all I see is a cascade of silky, indigo hair, pale blue arms, and a long, sinuous serpent’s tail. As she turns, we sink into bows and curtsies. I’m grateful for the moment to compose myself before I face her, but the time to rise comes too soon, and I find myself straightening with Foxglove and Lorelei, pulse racing.
Now I can see Melusine fully, and my state of dress makes sense. The Queen of the Sea Court has a human-like upper body, both slim and seductively curving, breasts barely hidden beneath strands of her glossy, blue hair. Her face holds an unprecedented beauty with angled eyes the color of a stormy sea, high blushing cheekbones, a perfect nose, and full coral-red lips. Strands of pink coral hang from her ears and around her slim neck. The planes of her flat stomach disappear into scales that end in her shimmering blue-green tail.
I feel overdressed and hideous in her presence.
“Your Majesty,” Foxglove says, taking a step forward. “Queen Melusine, I would like to introduce Miss Evelyn Fairfield.”
Melusine smiles, showing rows of pointed teeth.Fangs. I resist the urge to back away from her. Fangs don’t mean anything, I remind myself. Foxglove has fangs, and he’s harmless. Pleasant, even. But the more I’ve gotten to know Foxglove, the more his pointed teeth seem dainty and fashionable. Melusine’s, on the other hand, look anything but, with their sharp, serrated edges and elongated tips. Oddly, they do nothing to take from her beauty. Somehow, the danger they present makes her more breathtaking.
“Your Majesty.” I curtsy again, doing my best to keep my composure.
She eyes me, nose turned up as if she’s assessing an unusual speck of dirt. “Where is that son of mine?” Her voice is light, flowing. Like a melody. Every word carries the roar of the ocean, the song of the siren.
“Resting,” Foxglove says. His voice sounds like shattering glass after the lilting tune of hers. “He’s recovering from his injury.”
Melusine looks displeased, though not surprised. She must already know what happened to Aspen. “And where is my other son? Where is dear Cobalt?”
“Here.” Cobalt enters the room and bows before his mother, his moves flustered as if he’d rushed to make it here.
She wrinkles her nose at him as she eyes him from head to toe. “You dare greet me like that?”
He straightens, jaw shifting back and forth. “I take seelie form on land, Mother. You know this.”
“I thought you’d have the decency to humor me, at least. Never mind, then. Take me to see Aspen.”
“He’s resting,” Foxglove says again. “With his recovery so recently begun, we don’t want to wake him.”
Melusine throws her hands in the air. “Why did I come all this way if not to see my son?”
“Good question,” Cobalt says. “Why did you come?”
She seems to ignore the ice in his tone. “This was my castle, once,” she says. “I wanted to make sure it’s in good hands.”
“I’m more than capable of ruling in my brother’s stead while he’s incapacitated.”
“You mistake me,” she says. “I’m not curious about your hands, but hers.” Her eyes slide to mine.
Cobalt follows her gaze, eyes going wide when they take in my appearance. He’d been so distracted by his mother, it’s the first time he’s looked at me since entering the room.
I resist the urge to cross my arms over my chest, and instead, put on my most convincing smile. “I am pleased to meet the mother of my mate,” I say.
She slithers toward me on her serpent’s tail while her upper body remains upright, bearing regal. Once she stops, I have to tilt my head to meet her eyes as she towers over me. “Are you?” she asks, tone mocking. “Are you truly pleased to meet me?”
“I am. I’ve heard so much about you.”
She barks a musical laugh. “Not from Aspen, I’m sure. He barely considers me his mother anymore. He treats me as a fellow royal of the Council of Eleven Courts, nothing more.”
“Still, I’m pleased to be in your presence just the same.”
“Such human politeness,” she says with disgust. “Fake.”
