“Is there anything I need to know about the King and Queen?”
Tae turned down a corridor and the rush of bodies lessened. Here, there was surprisingly less artwork than in Tae's home. In fact, the corridors we strode through were empty of all but the occasional statue. Doors were closed as well, making it feel even more stark, but the way was wide enough for several faeries in falcon form to walk through it at once. It seemed a waste to me.
“King Dehras and Queen Siarra are fair rulers,” Tae answered. “The King was born to the throne, which means that his take precedence to his wife's. He is a warrior, as is his daughter, Princess Sanasenne, so they are more sympathetic to us soldiers than the rest of their court.”
“What does that mean?” I frowned at him. “People don't like soldiers here?”
“No, that's not it. There are those in the court who opposed a non-noble being appointed as warlord,” he lowered his voice to say. “I'm not openly scorned, but you'll notice that I'm not warmly received by everyone either.”
“Idiots,” I huffed.
Taeven's eyebrows rose. “That's all you have to say?”
“You want me to kick someone's ass?” I offered. “I can totally make it look like an accident.”
Taeven chuckled. “That won't be necessary. I . . . I was merely surprised that you're not worried about being snubbed.”
“Why the fuck would I care what a bunch of uptight faeries think of me?” I lifted my chin. “I'm the fucking Falcon Valorian. Doesn't that make me noble too?”
“Actually, you outrank all but the royals and myself,”
“Great balls of fuck.” I gaped at him. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“Then Ireallydon't give a shit what they think.” I grinned broadly. “They should be kissing our asses.”
“You know, you're right; they should.” He lifted our joined hands and kissed the back of mine. “We're going to stay as late as we like, eat a lot of food, drink a lot of wine, and dance right in the middle of them. And they can kiss our asses.”
“Dance?” I lifted my brows. “You dance? I can dance with you?”
“I insist on it,” Tae drawled. Then his gaze veered away. “We're here. All right, we go in and wait at the threshold to be announced, then I'll take you to the royals. Once I introduce you, kneel. I'll help you up when they finish speaking with you. Oh, and refer to the King and Queen as 'Your Majesty' but the Princess is 'Your Highness.'”
“Got it.” I nodded.
“Prepare yourself; the throne room is a feast to the senses.”
Then Tae stepped up to another set of double doors. A pair of footmen opened them for us simultaneously, and a rush of sound and scent hit me like a slap in the face. The drone of voices was peppered with laughter and the aroma of perfume, flowers, and food. It was also warm. We stepped into the room, and I knew immediately that my cloak was going to get stifling in seconds.
“Welcome, Falcon Lord,” a man near the door said respectfully. “Their Majesties have been eagerly awaiting your arrival.”
Another man stepped forward with an outstretched hand as Tae swept off his white cloak. Beneath the brocade and fur, Taeven wore an apple-red tunic that matched the Falcon Soul and a pair of white, leather breeches. His broad shoulders stretched the brocade and a hint of sculpted chest peeped through the V neckline. With his golden hair swept back beneath a circlet that was nearly indecipherable from it, and a thick belt slung low on his hips, he looked like a prince—a warrior prince. Tae handed his cloak to the footman and motioned for me to do the same. I gratefully removed my cloak as Tae continued speaking to the first man.
“I'm here with my valorian, Shane Rumerra.”
“Yes, my lord. I will announce you.”
He'd done it again—given his name in place of mine.
I was about to ask him why when the man he'd spoken to bellowed, “Taeven Rumerra, the Falcon Lord, and Shane Rumerra, the Falcon Valorian.”
The faeries filling the throne room—both Sidhe and Unsidhe—turned to face us. There were too many of them to focus on and since Tae had already warned me that their reception wouldn't be cordial, I ignored them and checked out the room instead. Tae had said it would be a feast for the senses, and he hadn't exaggerated.
Especially after the bare hallways, the throne room was a sensory rush. From floor to ceiling, it was alive with texture and color. Bright rugs covered every inch of stone, overlapping indolently. Sheer silk panels hung from the ceiling, outlining a central space and breaking up the massive room into sections, much like the panels in the Falcon Lord's tent. The central portion was dominated by a dais at the far wall, upon which three people sat enthroned, but the rest of the space was filled mostly with people—both courtiers and servants who carried trays of goblets among them.
Along the lines of the silk panels, potted plants added more color and freshness to the room, and through the translucent fabric, I could see more faeries moving about. In the space to the right, those faeries danced to effervescent music, light enough to lift your feet from the ground, and to the left, they dined at little, round tables. Above us, enormous chandeliers hung, adorned with crimson jewels. They gave a pink cast to the room that imparted a healthy flush to pale, winter skin.
A path cleared before us, courtiers drawing back to form it, and Taeven escorted me down the channel, chin lifted and gaze fixed ahead. At the opposite end, the royals waited, their gazes serene. The Falcon King sat in the center, his wife and daughter flanking him, and a crown sat atop his head, circled with stones that matched the Falcon Soul in both color and shape. His jewels pointed up as well, giving his crown a sharp appearance. Beneath that vicious head-jewelry, his strawberry-blond hair flowed down his broad chest nearly to his waist. The color went nicely with his golden tan, which also went well with his green eyes, the irises ringed in dark brown. He was slimmer than I'd expected of a warrior, but between his delicate wife and daughter, he looked downright bulky.
