He shifts in his seat, muttering beneath his breath. “Freezing woman. I wasn’t watching you like you were prey.”
Recovering my composure, I say, “There are two ways I suggest you look at a woman from this point on, and it depends on how you’d like your persona to come across.”
“My persona?”
“Yes. Think of it like a mask you must wear. In the same way you pretended to rescue me and then feigned injury, you’ll need to pretend to be a gentleman around Miss Coleman. And to do it convincingly, you should craft a persona. The way you wish to be perceived by her.”
“Like a glamour?”
I’m taken aback for a moment. I’ve heard about fae glamours but never considered if they were real. “I suppose it’s like a glamour. I imagine without your magic, you aren’t able to produce one?”
He shakes his head. “I cannot.”
My curiosity begs me to ask what a glamour is like, how one is created, what uses it has. But the mournful expression on the king’s face has me returning quickly to our prior subject. “For your outer persona, the two options I suggest you adopt are either the rogue or the stoic gentleman.”
“What the freezing hell is a rogue?”
“It’s…well…” I pause, thinking back to my favorite novels.The Governess and the Rakecomes to mind. “It’s a man who is a bit brash, bold, and charming. A little rough around the edges in terms of manners. He can be quite forward in his attentions and pushes the boundaries of propriety. This, I think, will naturally suit you in many ways. However, a rogue requires witty banter, flirtation, and charming conversation—”
He turns in his chair to face me. “Are you suggesting I’m witless and without charm?”
I blush, realizing my insult too late. I know I should apologize, but the indignation in his tone has me wanting to laugh instead. Sealing my smile behind pursed lips, I shake my head. “I’m suggesting no such thing, only that…I imagine you may not enjoy using your charm on a…disgusting human.”
He straightens his posture. “I’ll have you know I’m a great actor.”
“I saw,” I say, tone flat. “Anyhow, I also suggest you consider the stoic gentleman. He has the benefit of being quiet and aloof, speaking only when he chooses and coming across as confident and out-of-reach. Imogen will love the challenge of winning over such a man, and you will be able to…well, continue to do what you do.”
“And what is it I do?”
“Well, a moment ago you were brooding silently at the fire, which is suitable for the stoic gentleman. However, you must maintain better poise when in the company of our target. And you must behave with far more propriety to pull it off.”
He rolls his eyes and turns back to the fire. “Propriety, my freezing foot.”
I leave my seat at the bureau and approach his chair with slow, hesitant steps, careful to keep my voice steady as I say, “You’ll need a haircut and new clothes too.”
He all but leaps from his chair, rising on his staff to face me. “You cannot take my hair.”
I pause, folding my hands at my waist. “If we are to present you as the desirable Unseelie King of Winter to a human prospect, you must look the part.”
He takes a step forward, eyes wide with something akin to…fear. “You will not present me as the Unseelie King of Winter. You will present me as no king at all!”
“That wasn’t part of the bargain.”
“Well, it is now. I will have your promise or be done with you. No one will know I am the king.”
“My entire scheme hinges upon you wooing her as a king.”
He shakes his head. “I forbid it.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want anyone—neither human nor fae—knowing where to find me. I told you before, not many fae know about my curse, and humans are kept completely ignorant. They know they have an unseelie king, but not who I am, and the curse keeps them from thinking of me too long. This suits me well, for the unseelie ruler isn’t required to interact with humans unless they choose to. That’s how I want it to stay. I want no petitions coming my way, no human artisans seeking me as their patron, no fae begging for a place in my household. No…no one shall see that this…that this…” He purses his lips, leaving the remainder unsaid. It isn’t hard to guess the rest, for it’s written all over his face.That this is what I’ve been reduced to.
This puts a huge wrench in my plans, but I can’t say I don’t understand. I know what it’s like to try and keep others at arm’s length, keep them from knowing who I truly am. Who I truly was. It does spark a question, though. “If the curse makes you easy to forget, how is it I haven’t forgotten you?”
He waves a dismissive hand. “You know about the curse now. It’s the same with the fae. Those who know about it are less inclined to forget me, although my name is lost to all regardless. Can’t you see how detrimental that could be? If too many people learn about my identity, my curse, my location…I’ll lose all sense of privacy.”
“Very well,” I say with a sigh. “However, this only makes the need to make you presentable far more important. I’m sorry, but your hair must be tamed.”
