“Let me say this—we always knew the veil would fail at some point. It wasn’t a matter of if, but when. A lot of us worried about the humans and what they’d do to us, but His Majesty has kept us safe.Allof us. I have a young daughter.”
My jaw drops. “What?”
She tucks a strand of chestnut hair behind one of her delicately pointed ears. “She’s five, and all I want is to keep her safe, and that’s what King Feylin has done.” She gives me an encouraging smile. “This ceremony will be wonderful.”
Ophelia gives a small bow and leaves while I still stand, jaw open.
“You didn’t expect her to say that, did you?” Elmore appears in the open compact that sits on my dresser. His brow wrinkles in worry. “And who would have thought that fae have feelings, too?”
“Elmore,” I scold. “They have feelings.”
“I’m not so sure.”
“Is that what my mother sent you to do? Talk smack about fae?”
“No, she sent me to keep an eye on you. If there’s anything you need, just say it. I also communicate messages from her.”
I turn to the vanity and dab powder on my shining nose. “Where is she? I haven’t heard from anyone in days.”
He grimaces, tugging down the ascot at his throat. Yes, Elmore wears some serious threads. “She’s, um, busy.”
“With what?”
“I don’t know…things… She’s wondering when you’ll come to the bookshop.”
A thousand-pound weight falls on my shoulders. “I can’t. You know I won’t be any use at that store. There’s no reason for me to hurry. Unless there is.” My gaze shoots to him, and he’s pursed his lips. “Elmore, what’s going on?”
He clears his throat, stalling. “It seems that, uh, since your mother gave up her right over the bookshop and it’s gone to you, that, well…”
“Spit it out,” I demand.
“It seems that it’s broken.”
“What do you mean, broken?”
“No one can dive into a book.”
I sag onto a chair and grip the arms for support. “But then you can’t evenhavea bookshop. That’s the whole point of it—the magic.”
“I know.”
My heart flutters against my ribs, and I gulp down several deep breaths.Get control of yourself.Ever so slowly, my grip on the chair relaxes. “What do they think has caused it?”
His gaze washes up and down me.
“Oh no. I can’t help this problem.”
“Well,” he says, shooting me a pointed look, “the first thing is that the magic’s weaker than your mother ever thought. The second is that the bookshop must have someone from the bloodline attached to it.”
“Why haven’t they come to me?”
“You’ve been busy.”
“No, I haven’t. I’ve been playing chess and taking short walks. Ugh.” I drop my face into my hands. This is all wrong. I can’t help the bookshop. ”Maybe I can talk her into giving it to Blair.”
He flicks his hand in dismissal. “Say what you want, but your mother won’t listen.”
“Then I’ll make her.” I head toward the door. “I’ll be back.”
