His garments were plucked from a dream. Sleek and bold. Sexy yet feminine. He’d combined these opposing elements with such grace that they were somehow complementary in their contradictory qualities. He’d informed me that the designs were inspired by fae fashions, but, in his words,with a twist, darling, we have to make sure we represent.
I learned the king had personally worked with Alejandro to adapt his preliminary sketches weeks before I’d agreed. Even Ava, the maidservant, was in on it, giving them an approximation of my measurements to work from.
One evening, as Alejandro was trying his best to make sure I wasn’t his own personal pincushion, I questioned why so many garments were necessary for a soiree. He almost choked on the pins poised in his mouth in indignation before saying, “Girl, you think I’d go through this much trouble for a single evening? Child, please. I’m outfitting you for the whole five days you’ll be there, and then some, just in case.”
Pinned and all, I stormed straight to the study and exchanged words with the king about just how pleased I was to find out we’d be staying there for damn near a week.We’ve already acceptedwas his only defense. I made a concerted effort to avoid his company and not so much as hear his voice over the next couple of days.
In one of my lessons, I was informed that Ava wouldn’t be allowed to join us at the Summer Court. They’d supply their own handmaiden to attend to me. It was nonnegotiable, although I tried. Evidently, this had always been the case, and the king’s forefathers believed the fae insisted on providing their own staff to ensure they’d have eyes and ears everywhere.
I appreciated just how dangerous a game we were about to partake in, and understood then that the girl from the cabin would have to be born anew and don a mask to survive.
Chapter 20
The Trappings of Hope
Iabandoned any notion of sleep and slipped into my satin robe and plush slip-ons. Maybe a snack would calm my anxiety and allow me the reprieve of a few hours’ rest before setting off to the fae realm.
Swinging the kitchen door open, I found Nevander sitting on a stool, elbows of his lightly tanned arms resting on a high prep table, an empty plate before him. With a raised brow, he stood, retrieved another cup, and replenished the pastries before filling our empty mugs with what smelled like tea.
“Thank you,” I said and took a sip. “You can’t sleep either?”
Nevander was a man of few words. His features held a permanent scowl between his dark brows, and he had a menacing quality to him that I would have avoided in Leighmullan. This was the first time we’d been alone together, as he was typically off doing whatever it was he did for the king.
He didn’t respond, and I wasn’t sure he would. I took advantage of the silence and allowed my mind to drift as it pleased.
“It’s been five. Hundred. Years,” he said, pointedly dragging out each word. “Five hundred years, and here you are, right here, sippingtea with me. I’d always known what our mission was, but as decades became centuries, rage dulled to determination, which eventually morphed into habit. It’s changed with you here, though.”
His words reverberated through the silence that enveloped us.
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way before,” he admitted. “It’s unnerving and keeps sleep at bay.”
“What does?”
He looked at me with his mocha eyes, and said, “Hope.”
Hope.Hope. He was right. Hope could be a beautiful and devastating companion. I’d learned that over the past few months. The thrum of excitement that oscillated with the dread of doubt. I’d had those queasy moments with hope myself and locked it away in the same place I locked all the other emotions I was unwilling to dance with.
I said nothing, knowing there were no words I could offer that would temper his burden.
“And you?” he eventually asked.
“Nerves.”
We sipped our tea and finished the plate in silence. There was something comforting about him that calmed me, like a warm hearth on a winter night. I think he felt it too.
At last, sleep beckoned to us, and we made our way back up the stairs in the hope its summons was sincere.
The sharp sound of curtains being drawn was followed by a blinding light. Shielding my eyes, I tried to steal a peek, wanting to discern how far the sun had risen. They revolted in protest, and I shut them once more.
“What time is it?” I groused.
“It’s time to get out of bed. You slept straight through breakfast, and Alejandro is here,” Ava said.
Her chiding tone was one I knew all too well by now, but I riskedpulling the covers over my head in hopes I could delay our departure, if only for a moment.
“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” Alejandro’s loud, rhythmically accented voice filled the room. He could wake the dead with his enthusiasm—which meant there was no escape.
I let out a long-suffering sigh, flung the covers off, and tried to blink away the sleep. “Okay, okay, I’m awake.”
