King Fell glanced in our direction and seemed satisfied, though I was pretty sure I saw a vein in his neck when he noticed Queen Rime was still playing her cellphone game.
It must bother him endlessly that she’s more powerful. I hope he gnashes his teeth and is up late at night, bitter that she’s the fae representative on the Regional Committee of Magic.
I studied Rime as she kept tapping away on her cellphone, playing her game.
Having her as the fae representative is probably the only bit of luck I’ve had since being crowned. Fell would be unbearable as the representative—and he’d probably get us all killed in record time with his awful personality annoying all the other supernaturals on the committee.
Distracted by the thought, it wasn’t until after the ceremony finished and we were walking to the banquet that I was able to ask Rigel, Skye, and Indigo, “What hunt are you talking about?”
“The annual Fall Hunt,” Skye supplied. “It happens every year.”
“Is this just a Midwest thing, or does every region have an annual hunt?” I asked.
“It’s Midwest only—to my knowledge,” Skye said.
“I heard one of the other regions has a fishing tournament.” Indigo didn’t have to wear one of the toga-dresses, so she stomped at my side in a cute black skirt with a red cable knit sweater—I’d bet a lot of money she was wearing a superhero t-shirt on underneath her sweater, those seemed to be her favorites. “That sounds like more fun.”
“It does! Maybe we should start one of those,” I said.
“The hunt is for the seasonal Courts—and the Day and Night Court—only,” Skye said. “Each Court is allowed a handful of riders, mounts, and hounds the Courts personally train.”
“I take it I’m supposed to use the shades?” I guessed.
“You can,” Skye acknowledged.
“And then we just go for a jolly hunt?” I asked.
“Not quite,” Skye said grimly.
But it seemed like an evening for interruptions, because before she could further explain, King Birch decided to approach me.
“Queen Leila—I am glad to see you dressed appropriately,” he said. “But I thought you might need a model of decorum due to the savagery of your pedigree, so might I extend introductions to my wife, Consort Flora?”
I glared at King Birch, but shifted my gaze to Consort Flora, who wasn’t at all what I expected.
Her hair was a beautiful shade of coffee brown, and with her delicate and willowy build she had fae stamped all over her…except for her eyes. They were too raw for a fae. Looking at her light green eyes, I could tell she was nervous, but relieved the ceremony was over.
How has she survived this long among the jackals when she’s genuine in her expression?
She was a beauty—that was obvious. But in addition to her expressive eyes, compared to the other monarchs she was quiet and soft.
“It’s nice to meet you, Consort Flora,” I said.
She curtsied—her movements had more of a sweet gracefulness to them than Queen Rime’s stateliness or Queen Verdant’s coy playfulness.
“Good afternoon, Queen Leila. I hope you enjoyed the ceremony,” she said without any ounce of snark.
Yeah, I have no idea how she hasn’t been eaten alive. I mean, I’m glad—but I didn’t think it was possible for fae to be like her and survive.
“It was interesting. Are you okay?” I abruptly asked.
Consort Flora’s eyes widened fractionally. “I beg your pardon?”
“Are you okay? You seem…sad?”
“Queen Leila, you overstep your boundaries,” King Birch snarled.
I shrugged. “Sorry, but my human bluntness prevails. And it’s really bothering me that she hasn’t said if she’s okay or not.” I studied Birch, then flicked my gaze to Flora.
