That’s something I’ll need to check up on later.
“No... something with me and Queen Lydia’s sister.”
Understanding dawns and somehow she blushes even deeper. “You kiss so many girls at revels, but never me,” she says.
“I respect you too much.”
The poor thing tried to kiss me well over a year ago at some solstice bonfire. It was the best excuse my addled brain could come up with at the time.
She takes a step toward me. “I don’t want you to respect me.”
I take a step back. “I was dosed with a love potion tonight.”
“I knew it,” she says victoriously under her breath.
“We can’t have King Bram find out,” I say seriously. “Will you keep it a secret?”
She looks up at me. The kitchen smells of burnt sugar and violets. Lyra is such a sweet girl, but like so many others at court, she’s fallen in love with a carefully crafted illusion. I think the only people who have ever truly known me are Ivy, Lydia, and Bram.
I pity Lyra and the other droves of maids and courtiers and bored wives like her. But to say I pity them is not to say I don’t use them to my advantage.
Lyra may be sweet, she may be a servant, but she is a faerie, just like the rest of them. “What will I get in return for my silence?” she asks.
“A kiss,” I say.
Her eyes go wide. “Please, please!”
“I kiss you and you will never speak of what you saw tonight to anyone. Do we have a deal?”
“Yes,” she says.
I lean down and kiss her cheek. There’s that snap, that sting of magic every time I make a bargain.
She stomps her foot. “That’s not fair.”
“You should know well enough that bargains need to be specific, love.”
I pop a candied flower into my mouth and saunter out the door.
Thalia is waiting for me at the base of the staircase, a whole bottle of something dark slung in one hand.
“Done?” I ask.
“Done,” she confirms.
There’s no need for more talking; I know what comes next.
I follow her across the courtyard to the wing of the castle where a few select lords live on the castle grounds, but far enough away to give Bram privacy in the main wing.
It’s freezing tonight, but I don’t really feel it. I’m too numb.
Thalia’s room always smells of sour smoke and spilled faerie wine. Her bed is the centerpiece: a behemoth, canopied and draped in rich red velvets.
It would be noble to say the first time I was here I was resentful, but that’s not true. I didn’t feel anything at all.
I think of what Bram said about Ivy.She lets me into her bed as easy as breathing.
I should hate her for it, just as she should hate me. But I don’t hate her at all. I understand better than anyone.
