Flora takes the cravat from me and reverently folds it within sheets of tissue, then packs it into a gilded black box. No matter how many times I’ve told her not to waste such pretty packaging on the likes of me, she ignores me. Hisses, actually. That one request is the surest way to offend her. “Would you like to try the other?” she asks, the painted red mouth on the porcelain mask never moving.
“Absolutely.” I take the strand of black tourmaline beads she offers and face the mirror, then drape the necklace around my neck and settle the length of it over my chest. My reflection shifts in a flash, leaving…me. Same silver hair, haphazardly parted, drifting just past my jaw in places. Same pointed ears. Same eyes. I crack a smile and find she’s even managed to weave in the elongated tips of my canines.
Flora floats over, assessing me with her painted, unblinking eyes. “A near-perfect imitation, is it not?”
“Better, I’d say. How did you come up with this outfit?” I turn from side to side, admiring the cape of black feathers that trails almost to the ground, the heeled boots, the tight pants that hang low on my hips. I brush the cape to the side, and—as if it were a real cape—the glamour obeys, revealing the back of my pants. “My ass looks amazing. Did you make it bigger?”
“I had to cater to your vanity, didn’t I?”
With a grin, I release the cape and face forward to study the front of my shirt, a flowing confection of pink ruffled lace. Free of waistcoat and cravat, the neck is left unbuttoned. I pull the collar aside and find a hint of black ink. “You even got my tattoos right.”
She shrugs. “It wasn’t hard to do.”
I face her with a smirk. “Is that because I rarely care to don a proper shirt?”
“That’s part of it.” Even though her face reveals no expression, I hear the amusement in her tone.
“Well, I learned from the best. Have you seen what Nyxia wears?” I keep my eyes on my reflection as I remove the necklace. In an instant, the real me returns. I look mostly the same but without the flamboyant costume. In its place are black trousers and an indigo linen shirt. As tempted as I am to replace the glamour and wear it for the rest of the day, it’s far too early for pink lace. Or is it too late? The best parties that involve ruffles and lace last at least until sunrise…
Flora takes the necklace from me and wraps it just as carefully as she did the cravat. “Speaking of your sister, how is she?”
The question sends an iron weight to my stomach. “She’s…doing well. Aside from the fact that she’s abandoning me and all.” I try to say the last part in jest, but wince when I hear the bitter note that mingles with my words.
The fae pauses and gives me the expressionless equivalent of a pointed look with her mask. “I take it you aren’t pleased about hosting the human social season.”
“It’s my duty,” I say, not bothering to hide my dark tone this time. I turn away from her, hands in my pockets, and walk slowly along the row of floor-to-ceiling shelves that line the walls. On each ledge rests a seemingly innocuous item—a pair of gloves, a hat, a necklace—but I know each holds a different glamour. Some are customized according to the buyer’s tastes, like the ones she made for me, but others are entirely random concoctions from Madame Flora’s brilliant mind. I pick up a pair of cufflinks, wondering what glamour they hold. “Nyxia has been hell-bent on improving my reputation so that I can earn the respect of the human population. To do so, she insists I must host this year’s social season alone. All in the name of training me to be a proper heir.”
Not that it matters, I think to myself. Unless my sister dies, there’s no reason for me to take her place as king. Like all fae, Nyxia is immortal. So, aside from the unlikely chance she’s mortally wounded by ash or iron—two materials that are illegal in Faerwyvae—the odds that I’ll outlive her are slim.
“Isn’t it the seelie ruler’s responsibility to gain the approval of the humans?” Flora asks.
“Yes, that’s how itshouldbe.” Again, my bitterness is clear. And she’s right. Each court in Faerwyvae has both a seelie and unseelie ruler who rule from two separate palaces and serve on the Alpha Council. The seelie ruler oversees the more civilized aspects of the court, such as maintaining peace and integration with the humans, day-to-day petitions, matters of economy and finance. The unseelie ruler, on the other hand, keeps the traditions of the Old Ways and oversees matters of nature and advocates for the wild fae creatures. The unseelie rulers, like my sister, aren’t expected to open their palaces to humans or hear their petitions. At least, that’s how it was before the rebellions. Ever since a few short-lived skirmishes broke out in Lunar, Wind, and Spring eleven years ago, our three courts have taken measures to ensure more cooperation with the human population. Since I butchered our first attempt at demonstrating our goodwill, we’ve now resorted to opening Selene Palace one month a year to host the social season.
This will be my first year acting as host. A fate most cruel indeed.
“Surely, you can handle one month of fine dinners and balls.” Her tone tells me she finds my plight rather shallow. Maybe she’s right, but still…
I huff a laugh. “The last time I took part in such activities, I came out the other side a vile rogue.” I set down the cufflinks to face Flora. “Besides, it isn’t just that. Nyxia wants me to interact with the humans on a deeper level than even she dares to. I am to attend garden parties, visit the theater, kiss the hands of aristocrats’ daughters—”
“How dreadful,” she says, tone mocking. “You’ll have to leave your palace once or twice to visit your subjects.”
“Technically, the humans aren’tmysubjects. Theyshouldbelong to the seelie king.”
“What are you afraid of, Your Highness?”
I put a hand on my hip. “Afraid? Me? What wouldIhave to fear?”
“Only you know that answer.”
My first instinct is to brush her off, but the gravity in her tone has my normally thick defenses growing thin. There isn’t much I can hide from Flora, nor do I find it pertinent to do so. She may be an artisan now, but she once worked in politics. Many years ago, she served on my mother’s advisory council and has been like a grandmother to me ever since. In fact, she’s been in my life far longer than my mother cared to be. Not once in hundreds of years has she shied away from giving me brutal honesty. It’s what I like about her because seldom do I receive that level of candor. Everyone else is more concerned with kissing my ass.
“You know what happened last time I interacted with the humans,” I say, my tone wary. “And now…well, you know how I feel about these ridiculous human practices. I detest their restrictive codes of conduct. Even worse than that are the mothers and fathers who throw unmarried daughters at me, eager for one to snatch me up like I’m some war prize.”
“I’ve worked in this city for a decade now,” she says with a light laugh. “In that time, I’ve learned much about humans and their strange ways. A husbandisa war prize, and it’s far from silly. For some women, it’s the difference between comfort and poverty.”
“That’s only because of their own outdated traditions. They choose to follow these strictures of chastity, etiquette, and social hierarchy, values leftover from when the humans on the isle bowed to a human king. When the fae won the war, we liberated them from King Grigory. Now it’s almost as if they expect their fae rulers to take his place.”
Flora steps closer, her tone soft. “It’s what they know, my prince. The isle has only been unified for twenty-one years. You can’t expect them to change so soon.”
