“I beg your pardon?”
“I mean, what’s so bad about using the same fork for your dessert that you used for dinner?”
The man looked at me like I’d just asked him if he’d seen a Hydra.
“Surely, you are joking Mr.Locke?”He blinked.
I looked back and forth, crossing my legs as I shrugged.
“I don’t know, Fergy, you tell me.”I gave him my best cocky grin and I swear, the look on his face was ripe with murderous intent.
“It is what is proper, Mr.Locke.”
I scoffed at his words.Proper this and proper that...maybe I could put in a request with the future Queen of Lir to go salad forkless.
“No matter, you shall have ample practice this evening during the welcoming banquet.”
“Excuse me?”I asked, sitting up straighter.
“The welcoming banquet...tonight?”Ferguson looked at me in question.
“What banquet?”I grit out through my teeth.The monster within rattled, feeling strangely threatened.Violet did not mention a banquet.Nor did she mention Wanda or Norman’s presence...
My little fae and I, it seemed, had much to catch up on.
“Why, to celebrate the arrival of the princess and her companions,” he drawled, appraising me with his judgmental gaze.“And our queen’s...allies.”
He said the last word carefully and my monster growled within me.Something did not feel right, but I could not figure out what.
Violet and I had only been at the castle for barely three weeks.Aside from being shuffled around the building like cattle and forced apart from my girlfriend, I hadn’t had much time to poke around on my own.I was fairly certain, that was on purpose.After all, Queen Amaranth didn’t know me from Jack Shit.
Thus, the rigorous vetting of me and everything that I am through these archaic ceremonies and traditions.
Including this damn course on silverware and being an uptight asshole.
Still, the word hung there in the air like the beacon it was.
Potential allies.
“Now, tell me, Mr.Locke, how does one accurately differentiate the salad form from the dinner fork and the dessert fork?”
I grumbled, knowing it was of no use to press or argue.Though I hated to obey anyone, I knew the way out was through.
So I pushed my monster aside, steeling my resolve as I leaned forward and glanced at my table setting.I picked up the smallest fork, making a show of it, like I was truly invested in the context of plate settings.And just as Fergy sighed a breath of relief, I flung the fork at the wall with all my might, trapping a dark, blue winged butterfly.It fluttered, sparks of magic falling like glitter as it flapped away, trying to escape.
“My heavens, Mr.Locke!”he yelped as I pushed myself up from my seat.
I carefully rose from my chair and sauntered past his shaking form, pinning him with my gaze.I smirked at him as I grabbed the butterfly from its imprisonment.It fell into my palm, its wings twitching, two small holes in its wing from my dessert fork.
I flung the fork back at Ferguson, and it landed back in its spot, sticking up, its tines sunk into the wood on the table.
I called my magic to my palm, or ratherViolet’smagic.Fae magic.
Though the world could keep me from becoming a consort, it could never take Violet from my veins.Even if I was found non-viable, I still had a claim on her.She was and always would be a part of my blood, my soul.
She was myanam cara.
Purple fractals pooled from beneath my veins and the butterfly lit up bright purple, nearly white.When the magic sparked, fading into the air, its bright blue wings were shinier, brighter, and whole.As if it had never been injured in the first place.
