Alora’s eyes widened and Lady Zinnia’s mouth twitched at her expression with a flicker of amusement before she cleared her throat. “Wait for me in the garden, princess.”
Alora swallowed, quickly nodding and scurried away.
Gods.
The fae were so uninhibited about sex. It wasn’t the first time she had stumbled upon a tryst or two in the woods. Normally, she wasn’t so taken back. She had read enough salacious tales to know how it worked.
But she had never thought her stern and prim godmother also…partook.
Alora quickly passed through the corridor toward the conservatory. The rose glass windows were coated in blooming nightshade, sunlight shining over the velvet settees. She made for the glass doors with doorknobs shaped like golden apples and stepped out into the garden.
Alora didn’t breathe until she sat on the stone table setting hidden away beneath a massive willow tree. It was quiet, peaceful even.
Shortly after, Lady Zinnia joined her. She had changed into a gown of layered silk leaves and blossoms, the fabric fluttering faintly as if breathing. Her hair was now woven in a delicate knot, adored with jewels, not a single strand out of place.
Alora waited nervously as small gnomes set out a tea ware and a three-tiered stand with sweet cakes, scones, cream, and jam. They served the tea then promptly left.
The Thornbearer’s lips pursed at sight of the mud stains on Alora’s skirts. “The Seven lift me,” she tsked. “You’re filthy. Why did I bestow you with the gift of grace if you would not make use of it?”
Alora resisted the urge to sigh. “Forgive me, godmother.”
The fairy cleared her throat.
Alora straightened, correcting herself. “Lady Zinnia.”
The porcelain tea set gleamed between them, each cup shaped like a lily, rimmed in gold. Lady Zinnia reached for her cup and took a dainty sip, every movement poised and elegant. Then she looked at her expectantly. Alora shifted in her seat as she carefully did the same.
“Hold to grace, child, for it will open doors that force cannot.”
Yet no matter how much Alora perfected her elegance, it made her no more accepted here.
“So,” the Thornbearer began. “No sickness? No madness? No strange happenings?”
Alora frowned, tired of the same questions. “No, my lady.”
“Good.” Her pink gaze flicked over Alora’s face like one assessing a rare herb that had taken root where it shouldn’t. “Unfortunate complexion. But resilient.”
Alora’s thumb drifted over the small scar on her fingertip, a nervous habit she could never quite break. Sometimes it stung when she was anxious, as though it still bled underneath.
Lady Zinnia’s gaze flicked briefly to the motion, the faintest crease tightening at the corner of her eyes before smoothing again.
Alora folded her hands on her lap and drew a steadying breath. “I take it there’s a reason you’ve summoned me,” she said hesitantly. “One that extends beyond… tea.”
Lady Zinnia’s mouth curled, though whether it was amusement or distaste was difficult to tell. “Oh yes,” she murmured, setting down her cup with a softclick.“It is time for you to leave the Midlands.”
Alora sucked in a shallow breath.
Of course, she knew that was the verdict. She clenched her shaking fingers on her lap, her mind spinning now that it was confirmed.
“Stay the night and I will have a carriage ready to take you home on the morrow.”
“Home…” Alora repeated, the word catching in her throat, and she met the Thornbearer’s apathetic gaze. “Lady Zinnia, you and I both know I have no home.” She inhaled a sharp breath to hide how much her voice wavered. “Please, I want to stay.”
“That is not for me to offer, princess, for reasons your father will discuss with you.” Evasiveness coated the Thornbearer’s words like honey over too little bread.
“My father?” Alora shook her head. “He left me here in your care because he does not want me anymore, not since—” Her throat tightened. “I have done everything you asked.”
Lady Zinnia blinked at her, pink translucent wings twitching at her back as tears threatened to well in Alora’s eyes.
