I knew the royalty of Faerie was lineal, passing from parent to child. Crown Tourneys like the one that had just occurred only happened if the ruling monarch died or stepped down without producing children. Such situations were rare, although I had now attended two tourney celebration feasts in Earth, if not the tourneys themselves. All this is to say that if I hadn't known the new King of Earth was named Rory, I would have thought this man was King Cahal, husband to Queen Aalish. I gaped at the man who was the spitting image of the Earth King I'd known—a man who had committed suicide after his wife had been executed. This had to be Cahal's father; there was no other explanation. Which meant that Cahal had been, or would be, part Fire Fey. How fascinating. And how odd that he would only take after his father.
I continued to gape at King Rory as he strode past me, his demeanor far more commanding than his son's had been. Or would be. This was a man who wouldn't capitulate to his wife as Cahal had down with Aalish. No, this guy wouldn't give in to anyone. Even the vines that grew from his skin bent to his will, curling around his forearms like trained dogs. In rapt fascination, I glided forward, easing behind him to stare at his hair. The base color was an ordinary brown, a bit ashy, but the whole of the strands together gleamed with blotches of golden yellow and deep green to create a pattern like sunlight spotting a forest floor. I reached out but stopped myself from touching him. The resemblance was uncanny. All except the eyes.
Holy schnitzel! Cahal had yellow eyes, just like Arach. But Rory's eyes were deep green. Rivella would pass only one physical trait to her son and even that was only partially. Her yellow eyes had bright orange limbal rings—rings that Cahal was missing or would be missing. And in Faerie, where yellow eyes were found in every race of Sidhe, the color wouldn't betray Cahal's mixed heritage. I wondered if he would/had preferred to pass as fully Earth-Sidhe or if he just assumed that everyone knew his lineage. After all, his mother was a legend.
Wait. Hold the presses. What in Faerie was I thinking? Had coming back this far in time bonked the sense out of my head? Fire and Earth couldn't mix. I'd gone off on a tangent for no reason at all. How could I have forgotten the big drama between King Guirmean and Nora, a Phooka from Fire? She tried to give him up because she knew she'd never be able to give him an heir and that would make her unacceptable as the Queen of Water. And Guirmean's response had been to give up the throne. Luckily, that never happened. Faerie stepped in and, through me, changed Nora into the first Water Phooka. Of course, that was after Guirmean had a child with another woman, but the point is that it was a huge deal and had happened thousands of years from now. For a king of one element to marry a faerie of another, especially back in this time, seemed impossible. But also, Cahal couldn't possibly be Rory and Rivella's son. So who was he? He had to be related to Rory in some way. They were practically twins.
As Rory made his way around the room, musicians started to play. He was clearly hunting for someone to dance with, and not just at the ball. Mothers should have kept their daughters away from the celebration feast instead of presenting them on a platter to the King. He was looking to celebrate, not pick a wife. And yet, he would, wouldn't he?
And Fey mothers were a lot different from human mothers. They'd probably tell their daughters to have fun in the King's bed. Just as Arach had once told me he expected our daughter to have the passion of a Dragon-Sidhe and take many lovers.
“Fucking Arach,” I muttered.
King Rory's head turned in my direction. Sharply.
I almost cursed again. What was wrong with me? Why the fuck couldn't I keep my mouth shut? But then I never was good at that.
“Ard Ri.” A stunning, willowy Earth-Sidhe with pale yellow hair saved me. She curtsied deep before the new monarch, displaying her delicate cleavage.
King Rory instantly forgot about whatever he heard. Grinning a lot like my Fey husband, he lifted the woman's hand and kissed it. “Usa Alisane,” he drawled. One of the vines on his forearm unfurled to curl around her wrist. “Tu a feacha gi halai.”
“Go raib maith aga, Ri Rory.”
Whatever she said, Rory liked it.
“Ar mhaith lea dhamsa?” he asked her.
She grinned and put her hand in his. Rory led her to the area used for dancing.
I frowned at that. He hadn't even noticed Rivella yet. Nor had she noticed him. Our heroine was standing across the room, talking to the same Earth-Sidhe with the vines. Similar to the King, but no cigar. That guy wouldn't make her Cinderella. Oh, floppy french fries! Was it starting already? Had I done something to mess with the past? Did I screw things up simply by talking to Arach? No. I couldn't have changed things in the Earth Kingdom. Could I?
But there went Rory, strutting around the dance floor with that prissy Earth-Sidhe. Sorry, she was probably a lovely woman, but I was getting stressed, and I can get bitchy when I'm stressed. And hungry. I grabbed another tart, feeling very Queen of Hearts, and huffed as I ate. Gone was my wallflower plan. Now, I spun through the crowd, stare shifting between Rory and Rivella. The former's vines were wandering while the latter had turned her eye on a new target—a mother-fluffin' Dryad! What was she going to do with him? She'd really be the Queen of Cinders if she got it on with that guy. He'd lose limbs as soon as she came. Well, if she really enjoyed herself. Or was that just with Dragon-Sidhe? Again, I chided myself for not learning more about my people.
And for not reading that fairy tale sooner. I didn't know how the real story ended.
But, just like my son, I assumed Rory was supposed to marry Rivella.
So, how was I going to fix this mistake?
“Ooff,” I grunted as I hit someone's back.
He spun, and I backed up quickly, getting out of reach. Then I just stood there, gaping again.
It was King Cahal. What the hell was going on?! His yellow eyes—now proven to be of the Earth-Sidhe variety and not inherited from his mother—scanned the area. The vines on his arms shifted. Then his gaze focused on someone behind me. I looked around, careful not to bump into anyone else, and moved back just in time for King Rory to come striding up. He had left his dance partner. So that was one good thing, but seeing him stand before Cahal was unsettling.
The men smiled and embraced. I caught a Fey word I knew. Even if I hadn't known it, I would have figured it out. It was so close to English as to be obvious—brathair. They were brothers! Aha! That made sense. If Rory never had a child, his brother would make a suitable heir. I would have assumed they were twins, but children were rare in Faerie. To have two sons would be miraculous. But twins? No, that only happened with the shapeshifter races like Phookas.
Satisfied that I had figured out Rory's relationship to Cahal, and that Rory was away from the woman he wasn't supposed to be with, I left the brothers and crept up beside Rivella. Leaning in, I whispered in her ear, “The corridor. Go now.”
Rivella flinched and looked around.
The Dryad she'd been talking to asked her something in Fey. Oh, shit. What if she didn't understand English? Or my modern version of it?
Rivella said something to the man, then headed toward an archway.
Biting back a sigh of relief, I followed her. She kept going, past faeries heading to the ball, and I kept following her until we were alone. Then—because who doesn't love a grand entrance?—I swept in front of her and dropped my invisibility.
“Hello, Rivella,” I said.
