I turn, and yep, sure enough, there’s the Stone Fae King himself, in that same body-hugging leather armor he wore last night. No bandolier of knives that could easily slice through me this time. But the red glow beneath the cracks in his skin is pulsing in a way that doesn’t require any familiarity with Stone Fae anatomy to interpret: the king is seriously pissed off with me.
“Heya, VeyVey,” I say, playing it cool with a little wave. “You’re up early!”
And looking especially lethal tonight, I silently add. What does he do—spray himself with danger perfume every morning so he’s, like, radiating it?
“Did you not see my note?”
Apparently, Veyrion has decided not to match my nonchalant energy. It’s taking everything in me not to step to the side, because it really does feel like his eyes are about to shoot lasers.
“I did,” I admit. “And in all fairness, I thought I’d get back before you woke up. But I lost track of time.”
“Easy to do,” declares Brelliard behind me. “Gardening is so pleasurable, the time passes in a blink.”
I can just about feel the Stone Fae servants fuming, even with their heads fully bowed.
And I have to turn to tell my original Mountain Goat assistant, “Okay, Brell, you are really overselling this experience.”
“Not to mention rubbing it in!” a Stone Fae servant whose name I don’t know yet angrily calls out.
“Will I be called upon to quell this civil war you appear to have catalyzed between my goats and gravels?” Veyrion asks.
Brelliard and the fae servant who dared look up to squabble quickly duck their heads back down. But the flash of fear on their faces before they do makes me sick to my stomach.
I turn back to their bully of a king. “Don’t take any of this out on them. I’m grateful—trulygrateful—for the goats’ help and the additional offers from your castle staff. And you should be, too.”
He returns his glowing gaze to mine, tilting his head.
“Are you truly attempting to tell me how to handlemysubjects?”
“Of course not.” I tilt my own head, matching his energy despite being so much shorter. “I’m just pointing out that your subjects are wonderful. Not to mention super underappreciated. So if you’re upset withmyactions, I’m merely suggesting, with all due respect, that you don’t take it out on your blameless subjects but add it to my punishment bill.”
Veyrion may no longer be in statue form, but he stills like one, his expression unreadable.
And I stand there, eyes flared, totally willing to go into stare-off mode if that keeps his attention on me and off the poor staff, who remain on their knees.
But another, even haughtier voice causes me to blink first. “This is unacceptable. You are not to tell our king what he may or may not do!”
I don’t realize he’s brought backup this time until a female with lustrous black hair, pointy ears, a long, thin nose, and uncracked, smooth gray skin comes to stand directly behind him on his left.
She’s dripping in jewelry that matches her glowing blue eyes, and her chin is lifted like it lives in the air full-time. That, and her feminine version of Veyrion’s smoke-and-glass accent, makes me guess she’s one of his courtiers. Probably a noble with a title attached.
Perhaps even one of those “willing vessels” he talked about—the ones that help him get off before raids.
Did he go to her last night after I turned him down?
That thought tangles with the hate in my chest, turning it a dark and ugly green I do not like.
And why does this stone-weed wormette keep talking?
“Also, you are meant to bow when facing our sovereign,” she informs me.
Well, that’s a whole lesson in court etiquette I didn’t understand before. It explains why no one behind me has stood up yet, and why the servants always jump out of his way in the halls. Otherwise, they’d have to drop to their knees and go through all this kowtowing fertilizer.
“You are to take a respectful position on your kneesright now,” the female at Veyrion’s side commands. “And you are not to rise until you have our king’s back.”
“Or what?” I ask her. “Does your king slit my throat on a nightmare altar and let me bleed out while you all watch? Oh wait, that’s tomorrow night, right after the wedding.”
Her eyes flare with outrage. “Why, you insolent little?—”
