“Are there what?”
“Pheromones,” I repeated. “You know, that stuff people ooze that makes other people horny.”
“People ooze horny stuff?” Arach asked, aghast. “How big are the horns?”
“Oh, don't act as if you don't know what horny means.”
Isleen, on the seat across from us, chuckled under her breath. “I believe the Queen is talking about a chemical that humans and some animals produce; it inspires intercourse.”
“How could it possibly do that?” Arach asked in a dubious tone.
“I believe through smell but I'm not certain,” Isleen said. “We Fey don't produce it. Frankly, we don't need it.”
Arach smiled smugly at me. “See, A Thaisce, we don't need to ooze chemicals to arouse each other.”
“Then why are you randier than normal and why is Faerie bugging me about letting you grope me in public?” I demanded.
Arach frowned thoughtfully, then murmured, “I don't know.”
“Faerie?” I asked.
Nothing.
“Faerie?”
I don't know either, okay?Faerie growled.It's probably just a coincidence.
Something shivered in my belly and not in a good way. “I wonder if this has something to do with the meeting we're heading to?”
“Faerie?” Arach asked.
I don't know that either. I've been a little distracted lately.
“Distracted by what?” I asked in shock.
Things. It was a verbal shrug.Life. The Fey are flourishing. Every kingdom is doing well. Babies who were born this Spring are thriving, everything is peaceful, and my realm is in full bloom. There is so much beauty here that I can't stop admiring it.
“That's true,” Arach said to me. “The Faerie Realm is doing better than it has in centuries, millennia even.”
I frowned and stared out the window at the Forgetful Forest. It looked the same as it always did to me: enormous trees moving gently with their breaths, the echoes of unusual animals, and the fecund scent of both living and dying things. We were approaching the Castle of Eight, with its curtain wall of living trees, their trunks extended magically to merge and form a circle around the largest tree in the forest. The extended trunks were topped by battlements and manned by soldiers from every elemental kingdom. Even the Dark Kingdom had begun sending their people to serve; I noted a Farinne-Sidhe on the wall, his wings like shadows behind him.
We passed beneath the raised portcullis and through the long passage into the courtyard. The seven trees that formed the outer wall were as hollow as the central one, serving as housing for soldiers and castle staff, and the courtyard between those trees and the main one held gardens to help those various faeries feel more at home. Each garden had an elemental theme and grew plants from a specific kingdom. There used to be four of them but now, there were five. King Cian had added a Dark garden to the collection; a gleaming, onyx obelisk stood at its center.
The courtyard was full of faeries as usual. Beautiful Bean-Sidhe with hair flowing down to their knees glided by on the arms of handsome men with butterfly wings. Dryads twirled their twig hair with long, slender fingers as they slithered around on their root-like legs. A Leanan-Sidhe paused to curtsy to us as our carriage rolled by, her vicious nails clutching at the sleeve of the Selkie man escorting her. His large, seal eyes watched us curiously for a moment but his attention was rapidly regained by the lovely Leanan-Sidhe.
Our carriage came to a halt before the steps of the central tree—steps formed of the tree's roots. Most of the architectural details inside the tree were made in a similar fashion—bits of living trunk magically coerced into shapes that suited the inhabitants. I'd stayed in a branch once—my suite was literally inside a tree branch—where the furniture grew from the floor.
“It looks like we're getting a royal escort,” I noted when I spotted the man on the steps.
Whenever we visited the Castle of Eight, a guide would be waiting on the steps to escort us to wherever we needed to be. Since the central tree was the size of a skyscraper, this was probably done out of necessity and not simply royal etiquette. Except for this time, our escort was royal—the High Prince Lugh. He stood with his hands behind his back, looking very princely with his snow-white hair streaming down his broad shoulders and his golden eyes gleaming eagerly—belying his calm pose. When that metallic stare landed on Isleen, Lugh grinned and gave up on the pretense to run down the steps. He opened the door before the waiting attendant could and held a hand out to Isleen.
“High Prince, the King and Queen of Fire should exit the carriage first,” Isleen chided.
Lugh huffed out an impatient breath and stepped back so that Arach could climb out first. Arach gave Lugh a sympathetic look as he did so, then helped me out of the carriage.
“Hey, Lugh. How are you?” I asked before hugging him.
“I'm good, V. You?”
