A moment later, a brown-skinned High Fae arrives, his black hair closely cropped and his tawny eyes glimmering behind spectacles. Warm magic floods the plane, coating the chill of Illusion.
“Kass, what did you say this time?” Lord Eli Seccler asks.
She draws herself to a sitting position, tucking slender legs beneath her.
“Only that I’ll listen to his droning when it includes somethinginteresting and delightful, like my brother is dead or I don’t have to marry Max.”
Lord Eli stops short. Though stocky and broad, he surpasses faeries in size and magical ability like any other High Fae. Like a wolf to a dog. So, even as his shoulders soften with pity, he still has teeth and claws. And she still has me holding the burning tray, my palms screaming, and I bite my lip to remain quiet.
“Prince Maxian may make a kind husband,” he offers, sitting next to her. “He seeks to be a fairer ruler than his father—”
“Who was a boorish war general, so I should hope so,” she says. “May he wander well, of course.”
“Yes, may he wander well.” He pauses. “Are you still having trouble sleeping? I could prescribe a night tonic.”
“I’m assuming it can’t mix with wine.”
“That would not be wise.”
“Then no thank you.”
Lord Eli gives her a look before his attention shifts to me, hovering over her shoulder. “Have you eaten yet?”
Please eat,I think, hands itching with pain. Has the coffee grown hotter? Is the pot enchanted?
Kass frowns. “Not hungry.”
“Why don’t you try?”
Thank fuck.My gaze slides to the scalloped chestnut table in front of the pair, my arms trembling. My mistress adjusts her robe.
“Eli, have you seen my new side table?”
The head of House Healing leans forward. “Very nice.”
“Notice the details?”
“It’s very intricate, yes.”
“Avery, put the tray on it.”
Lord Eli raises his brows. I blink, watching her face that gives nothing away.
“What?” She bares white teeth. “Have you decided to be deaf today, or merely just dumb?”
“My lady,” I say in a strained voice. “Will it not mark the wood?”
“Do you enjoy disobeying me?”
She will punish me regardless, so I place the tray on the table, but it slips straight through to the floor with a giant crash, the contents scattering like roaches.
I leap back, mind spinning to catch up. There, then not—the table flickers in and out of sight before solidifying again, shadow and all. I could almost believe I imagined the entire incident if not for the shattered breakfast cutting through the table’s legs as if it were made of mist.
“Stunning!” Lord Eli exclaims, bending low to examine the scene. “A perfect Illusion.”
“That would be the case if I could make you feel as if the grain were real when you touched it,” she replies.
“Very few Illusion fae can do that.”
