“Excellent,” the male says thoughtfully.
He studies me, and my skin prickles beneath his gaze. “Your hair,” he adds. “Such a striking color. What is your name?”
I hesitate. I don’t think I should answer.
His brow furrows. “When Lord Rourke asks your name, girl, you tell him.”
My breath catches. Reluctantly, my eyes lift to meet the gaze of the most powerful Fae in Thyros.
Lord Rourke of House Taramethos. One of the great houses of the Sundered Kingdoms.
His eyes are a burnished brown, warm as polished mahogany, his hair braided into two thick plaits that trail down his back. Power clings to him like a second skin.
“Don’t make me ask twice,” he says.
“Neve,” I answer, my throat bobbing.
“Well, Neve,” he says mildly. “Tell me, have you seen my wife? She seems to have eluded me.”
I shake my head quickly. “No, my lord. I have seen no one.”
He sighs, faintly disappointed. “Of course you haven’t.” Then, almost absently, “Thank you, Neve.”
Thank you.
Two simple words, but from a Fae lord, they feel like his weight in gold. The moment passes as quickly as it comes. He turns away, already engrossed in conversation with two stunning females clad in gowns so tight I refuse to believe they can breathe.
I retreat toward the kitchen. Where is he?
I push the swinging door open with my back and set the empty tray down, already turning toward the stairs that lead back to the basement when a shrill voice snaps behind me.
Rough fingers yank one of my braids.
I gasp, spinning around, eyes flashing, already reaching for the tray I’ve just set aside. The female glares at me, her eyes flaring as if she welcomes the challenge.
Before either of us can move, Pax appears.
“Is there something that needs to be done?” he asks smoothly, inclining his head even as his fingers dig into my arms, holding me still.
The female’s gaze flicks between us, lingering on me with open disdain. Her jaw ticks once.
“The ballroom,” she snaps. “They need more wine.” She jerks her chin toward a line of dark green bottles sealed with golden wax. “Deliver them and return immediately.”
Pax bows far deeper, far more submissive than I can force myself to be. He nudges me toward the bottles, not gently, and I grit my teeth as he loads my arms with as many as I can carry. He takes the same himself and guides me out the opposite side of the kitchen, toward the ballroom.
When we are far enough from prying ears, I hiss at him, “What was that about?”
“You know, for someone so clever, you can be truly stupid sometimes,” he says. “If you so much as touch a Fae, do you know what they’ll do to you? For now, you come and go from the Aurevault as you please. Lay a finger on one of them and you’ll never see daylight again.”
My jaw locks. “I can’t stand the way they treat us. I despise them.”
“You don’t despise all of them,” he says casually.
My head snaps toward him. “What?”
His mouth quirks. “I think Lord Luceran might be the exception.”
“What are you talking about?”
