He grimaces. “Not on purpose.”
“Augie.” I drag out the name with a growl.
“Well, there’s this female I’m seeing. A servant. And she...well, we were talking about the ball, and I had to tell her why I won’t be able to dance with her—”
“Damn it, Augie, you know better than to blab about my private matters. Have you any idea what you did? I had a horde of women waiting to jump me outside.”
“To…hurt you?”
“No, not to hurt me. They wanted to waltz, I’m sure. Horizontally. Followed by a marriage proposal.”
Augie grins as if I’m bragging and not relaying horrors of the utmost severity. I point a finger at him. “I’m serious. You can’t tell anyone about my private travels. Especially when I’m going to a human city.”
He gives a resigned nod. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“Very well. You’re lucky I don’t tell my sister. Half the time I think she regrets taking my word of recommendation and hiring you. Anyhow, where is Madame Flora staying? I’d love to pay my respects.”
“She’s been settled in the Dawnstar wing, down the hall from your selkie princess. Speaking of, shouldn’t you be paying your respects to her instead? Have you yet to meet her?”
“I’ve tried, I swear, but the few times I’ve called on her, a male voice at the door says she isn’t feeling well. Should I be worried there’s a man in the bedroom of the female I’m supposed to be courting?”
“That could be her voice, you know. Besides, shouldn’t you be more worried she isn’t feeling well?”
I shrug. “I think I’m more worried that I’m not more worried.”
Augie rolls his eyes. “Well, I take it she’s feeling much better now, for I heard she’s paying calls to her neighbors. In fact, I spotted her coming out of Madame Flora’s room not long ago.”
“Wait, you’ve seen her even before I have? That’s hardly fair.” A pinch of indignation moves through me before I remind myself I don’t care. Still…could she have been faking ill to avoid meeting me? It hadn’t occurred to me that she could dread our courtship as much as I do. “I suppose I should at least confirm whether she’s coming to the ball, although if she’s gone to see Madame Flora, I assume it was to procure a glamour for tonight. But if I don’t have to parade her around on my arm all evening, our night proceeds as planned. Agreed?”
His lips quirk with a sly grin. “Agreed.”
* * *
With a deep breath,I knock on the door to Princess Maisie's bedroom.
“Who is it?” asks the same male voice I heard before.
“Prince Franco,” I say. “Again.”
A shuffling sound comes from inside the room, followed by a rhythmic clacking. Unlike the last few times, no one tells me to go away and come back later. Finally, the door creaks open. I step inside the room, but there’s no one there.
“She’s outside,” says the male voice. I turn toward it, just in time to glimpse a dark shape falling from the door handle. When it lands, I see it’s a crustacean covered in a cluster of mushrooms. I furrow my brow. He isn’t an unusual type of fae. Being lovers of any dark, wet, or warm climates, his kind are found in many of Faerwyvae’s courts. However, he’s personally unfamiliar to me. He certainly isn’t a servant at the palace. “And you are?”
“Podaxis,” he says in a bored tone, then snaps his pincers toward the other end of the room. Shuffling sideways, claws tapping against the marble floor—the source of the clacking sound I heard—he leads me to a pair of closed balcony doors.
“Are you the princess’ servant?”
Podaxis stops and fixes two beady eyes on me. “Servant? Please. Have you never heard of friends, Your Highness?” He taps his pincers against the door.
“Come in,” says a feminine voice from the other side.
I’m about to tell hercome inis incorrect, considering I’m exiting the room onto a balcony, but stop myself. My first words to her should probably be something other than an annoying remark. I swing open the balcony doors to greet the darkening sky. A female fae in humanoid form sits on a chair at the far end of the balcony, staring at the horizon where the sinking sun paints its final streaks of color. Her skin is tan, cheeks flushed with a rosy hue. Her hair is pale pink, styled in a flawless updo, leaving curling tendrils to frame her face. I can’t make out the color of her irises, but I think they might be blue or gray.
“Greetings, Princess Maisie,” I say with my most winning smile. “I’m Prince Franco.”
She glances at me briefly but doesn’t meet my eyes. “A pleasure,” she says, voice devoid of all feeling. Podaxis scuttles across the balcony floor and climbs up the blanket draped over her legs. After turning in a circle, he settles on her lap. Maisie gives him a pat, then adjusts the blanket more securely around her hips. I sense a spike of panic and wonder what could have her so alarmed. The way she fiddles with the blanket, ensuring it fully covers her bottom half, makes me think she might be self-conscious about the way she’s dressed. I can see nothing below her waist aside from the elegant pair of shoes that peek beneath the bottom of her blanket. They’re made of a pale blue silk dotted with tiny pearls.
I take a step closer only to realize there isn’t anywhere for me to go. There’s no other chair out here, and she doesn’t seem keen on standing to converse with me. It seems odd to hover and talk down to her, so I lean against the balcony railing.
