My eyes rove over their features. Even Awri’s beautiful drawings could not capture the unearthly loveliness of the fea. I should have suspected as much, considering the feyn themselves are so startlingly ethereal in their own right. It only seems natural that other fea should share the trait.
Their features are similar. Both barely reach the height of my hip, heads covered in wisps of green hair that resemble fine grass wafting about in a light breeze. Small branches protrude from their hair, each holding a number of delicate buds and colorful flowers among waxy green leaves. Their skin is bronzed, the color of golden wheat with a small pattering of brassy freckles beneath their eyes.
The bold sprite in the doorway stares back at me, her vivid greeneyes scouring every inch of me as I’m embarrassingly aware I’ve just done to her. Blue and green meld over the lids of her eyes in a shimmering pattern that reminds me of the colorful wings I’d once seen on a pinned butterfly in a glass display box. Her friend stares at me from a pair of beautiful, but nervous, violet eyes with the same shimmering gilding behind a thick sweep of lashes. A large flower on top of her head is absent a magenta petal. I suck in a breath.
“That was you, up in the tree yesterday.”
It isn’t really a question but the brave sprite nods enthusiastically once more, pointing at her companion.
“I’m sorry. We didn’t see you.” It feels right to apologize even though I hadn’t taken a single shot with the bow.
She takes a step back, gesturing for me to come out and join them in the main room. An uneasy shiver skates up my spine, and I hesitate. It’s possible I’ve misread them completely and if they are upset about being shot at, which would be perfectly reasonable, I’m unprepared for what it might entail to fight one off.
Walking into the bedroom, I decide that if they are more fearsome than I realize I’m not likely to win a fight no matter where it takes place. Still, I head toward the vanity, eyes on the sprites as I stealthily grab one of the longer hair pins, just in case.
The shy sprite skitters away in retreat, hiding on the far side of the wardrobe as the other laughs at her, shaking her head. The hair on my arm stands on end when I hear it, like a laugh in the distance, brought on the wind only to be snatched away before it can fully settle on your ears. It’s a familiar sound that I recognize immediately as the ghostly voices I’ve heard in the gardens of the estate.
The entire moment is too odd to convince myself it’s a coincidence. Every word they speak skips off my ears like a small rock skipping across the surface of a lake to land upon the opposite shore. It looks like they are arguing, but it’s hard to be sure.
The bold sprite stomps an angry foot on the floor, pointing a demanding finger, as the shier of the two steps out from behind the wardrobe, keeping her eyes on me. She begins rummaging around inside it while herbraver companion points me to the chair in front of the vanity, ushering me over with a wave of her hand. I don’t ask questions. I’m not sure it will help.
I sit as instructed, knuckles white under the strain of my grip on the large pin hidden in my fist. The sprite takes hold of my hair and inspects it, tapping a dainty finger against her chin. She proceeds to twist and braid it until she’s crafted a rather whimsical masterpiece out of my tresses. Eyeing herself in the mirror, the sprite plucks a soft white flower from her branches before tucking it into my hair.
“Please don’t do that.”
She quirks her head to the side curiously when I speak.
“Doesn’t it hurt?” I wonder.
The sprite smiles and shakes her head, plucking another flower from her branches, weaving it next to the one she placed behind my ear.
I watch through the mirror as her bashful comrade tumbles out of the wardrobe in a flurry of colorful silks, her cheeks flushed when she finds her feet. She directs a wheezing snarl at her friend as she hands her a pink gown, standing as far from me as she can, while still reaching the sprite standing by my side.
The brave sprite ushers me off my chair and stands on it. Now that she’s nearly my height she raises the gown, dropping it over my head. I can dress myself in less than half the time, but each time I attempt to help and hurry things along I find my hand slapped away unceremoniously.
I resign myself to letting her have her way with my clothing and study the drape of leafy vines that seems to be a part of her skin, covering every intimate area below her waist. Her breasts are covered in a similar fashion, though there is a swell of flesh behind them, and I find myself wondering if those vines can be removed like clothing.
Her tiny fingers wrap around my jaw and lift my eyes to hers as she quirks an eyebrow. My cheeks flush when I realize I’ve been staring at her breasts from inches away.
“I’m sorry.”
She drops my chin with a huff and a firm nod.
Hopping off the chair, she ushers me toward my bedroom door. Her shy friend shuffles across the room with a squeak and hides behind the bedthe moment I move toward her. I glance at the garments strewn about the floor and risk snagging a pair of pants that match the dress, quickly pulling them over my legs.
The decision spurs the timid one to rush out from behind the bed and shower me in her displeasure. Fists at her sides she stamps a foot and glares across the room, her windy voice brushing past my ears in clear annoyance. Her friend waves her off with the sweep of her hand and pushes me out the door, into the hallway beyond, pulling it closed with a loud thunk and click.
What in the veil?
The rusty haired male crests the top of the stairs before I’ve had a single second to process what just happened.
“Your uncle sent me to collect you. He’s had a lunch prepared in the gardens.”
He leads me deep into the midst of countless heavy blooms artfully placed at the center of a winding maze of stone pathways. A rather ornate lunch is set out among a display of vases, overflowing with clusters of cascading flowers. Tall ornately carved crystal glasses sit among the array, and porcelain plates painted in delicate floral designs are heaped full of mouthwatering foods.
If I didn’t know any better, I would say the man is preparing for a garden party, but there are only place settings for two. He’s already told me he wants to know everything that happened yesterday, and I take note of the isolation the garden will offer. I wonder if I will finally have an opportunity to ask some questions of my own without fear of being overheard.
Felias saunters across the lawn just as I arrive, his voice carrying across the yard. “Don’t you look lovely, Shivaria.” He waves a hand at the rusty haired male, dismissing him. “Thank you, Enrik, I will handle it from here.”
