Cyara rolled her eyes, but accepted Veyka’s proffered hand. The queen winked at the soldier over Cyara’s shoulder, and then they were gone.
26
VEYKA
The terrestrials’ gasps and screams of surprise were as good as any dessert or crusty bread. Nearly as good as an orgasm.
They fell back from where Cyara and I appeared in the center of the great hall, giving us a wide berth. The males’ eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as they got a good look at my outfit. Many of the females, as well. More than one set of eyes began to glow with desire, the curse of our passionate race.
Good. If they were busy lusting after me, they’d be distracted from plotting.
Even Elayne and Pant had fallen back, the latter’s hand on the sword at his waist. Arran’s mother was a second from shifting. I’d spent enough time with Arran and Gwen to recognize the signs—the clenched fists, the feral gleam in the eyes, the curve of the body that was not fae at all. Pure beast.
A low growl rumbled in my mind.
I nearly fell over.
Impossible.
None of them noticed; too busy gaping.
It was an aching memory that threatened to derail my resolve. I shoved it down. Later, I promised myself. An hour, maybe two. Then I could sleep and dream of him.
Elayne regained herself first, gliding around the long table situated at the head of the hall. “Your Majesty, we did not expect you so—”
“So soon? So suddenly? So lovely, considering the state I arrived in?” I cut in, flashing a long leg as I walked to meet her.
“So comfortable as to appear among us without a formal announcement,” Elayne said smoothly, taking my hands and squeezing. A mother-in-law greeting her son’s wife, rather than a subject meeting her queen. An interesting way to play it. “But you do indeed live up to the rumors.”
“You shall have to tell me which ones.” I winked for everyone to see.
Irreverence—I could play that. It was a cousin to apathy, which I’d worn so well for so many months after Arthur’s death. No amount of jesting or wicked laughs could melt the ice in my heart. Only one thing—one male—could achieve that.
The great hall had been transformed in the time we’d been upstairs. The tables that had occupied the space were now lined up against the walls, creating at wide rectangle in the middle. They were draped with thick embroidered tablecloths, sumptuous golden place settings, endless bottles of wine down the middle of each in lieu of a centerpiece.
Nothing to compare to the opulence of Baylaur, but it was wealth all the same. The terrestrial fae lining the walls, standing behind each chair, reeked of it. Standing as they stared at me. Every pair of eyes, trained and waiting.
They would not sit until I did, I guessed.
I skimmed my gaze over all of them, trying to detect who was fauna or flora gifted among them. I failed, but flashed asmall, knowing smile anyway before I gave my attention back to Elayne.
“I was under the impression that you did not stand on ceremony in the terrestrial kingdom,” I said.
“You are correct, of course.” She waved her hand, and a small army of servants appeared. “Begin.”
There was a flurry of action and sound, as it all did, fully, begin.
Trays heaped with food appeared balanced on servants’ shoulders. Different from the fare in the elemental kingdom, but no less appealing. Thick cuts of meat, seared crisp on the outside, crusted with nuts, bathed in a thick wine sauce that had me licking my lips. There were vegetables I did not recognize, roasted whole and stuffed with herbs and grains.
I willed my stomach to silence. It did not obey. A tick in Elayne’s cheek was the only sign she’d heard it.
Like mother like son.
Arran’s cheek did just that when he was trying to keep something in.
My heart threatened to break. I reached for a bottle of wine. Cyara must have sensed something was wrong. She swooped in, filling my glass before I could reveal my shaking hand.
I took one long gulp. Another. It wasn’t nearly sharp enough—not like the aural that had drowned my pain after Arthur’s death.
