I slip my hand from Desmond’s arm and execute a few awkward spins, during which his indulgent smile falters. He places a hand on my shoulder to stop me, then clears his throat. “Yes, well. Shall we get the formalities out of the way?” He lowers again, this time to a single knee, and my heart slams against my ribs.
I have never been on the receiving end of a proposal, though I’ve dreamed of it since I was a little girl. I thought I would be in love when it happened. I also thought a human would be proposing.
I slide my gaze toward Lachlan, but his is the only attention in the hall not focused on the dais. He’s staring at the entrance doors, jaw clenched.
“Miss Charlotte Emilie Fitzroy,” Desmond begins, “will you betroth yourself to me so that I may compete for your hand in the Wild Hunt?”
There is only one answer I can give without forfeiting my life. Fortunately, it also happens to be the answer Iwantto give.
My acceptance is drowned in a clamouring wave of celebration. I hiss as the ring heats, burning into my flesh. When I raise it to my face, the star glows while the other two symbols remain dark.
Desmond rises, then holds our clasped hands aloft, beaming at his people. My future people. He releases my hand, then flicks his wrist and a tall mirror appears before the dais.
It’s time to meet my other suitors.
A palace footman cuts through the crowd clutching a small pouch, and Desmond whispers, “Be clever and witty and you will be fine.” Cold fingers pinch my chin. “You won’t disappoint me, will you, darling?”
His handsome grin was made to melt hearts, but mine remains stubbornly frozen. Nerves, surely.
Desmond nods to the footman, who unties the pouch and pulls out a pile of … glittering black sand? He opens his palm and blows it toward the mirror.
The frame shines, and the glass ripples like a pebble-disturbed pond. Swirling shadows curl upon the surface before two silhouettes appear.
I cannot make out their features, their bodies mere outlines. Two tall, strapping outlines, of course. If Desmond, Lachlan and the other faerie men in this room are anything to go by, I have no doubt these two dukes are just as beautiful. Just as powerful.
“Duke Áine, Duke Cernunnos,” Desmond greets his competitors, “thank you for joining us this afternoon. It’s my honor to present this Season’s candidate for the Wild Hunt—Miss Charlotte Fitzroy.”
The silhouette on the right, slimmer in build, dips his head in welcome. The one on the left doesn’t move at all. His stillness combined with what look like ram’s horns curling atop his head is making my palms sweat.
Desmond continues, “As protocol dictates, you may each ask her a single question before provisionally approving her as the quarry.”
“Or rejecting her,” booms the horned silhouette.
“I think you will find her quite a bit more compelling than my previous candidates.” Desmond pulls the fragment from his jacket. “She has already found the first piece of the Bannrhorn!”
The reactions from the two silhouettes are quite different. The smaller one perks up, tilting his head as if examining me more closely. The horned silhouette, well … if he hadn’t already spoken, I might mistake him for a statue.
Desmond turns to the shorter silhouette. “Duke Áine of Tír na Lune, you may ask the first question.”
The duke steps forward, but the fog does not clear. Drat, I was hoping to see what he looked like. In a lilting tenor, he says, “Miss Fitzroy, a pleasure to make your acquaintance. How are you enjoying the Otherworld?”
“Is that your question, Your Grace?”
A tinkling chuckle. “Clever thing. Though if you’d have answered it, our interaction would be over.”
“And you would have lost an opportunity to learn something about me. Which would have been a great shame.” My smile is coy. “For you.”
The crowd titters, and Desmond grins at me.
“Well, at the very least, I’d have learned your shape,” the duke croons. “That dress is very distracting. A ploy to throw off my game?”
I smile and wag a finger at him. “Is this truly the answer you seek?”
I cannot see his face, but I sense he’s enjoying our banter. Is it possible I am doing well?
Duke Áine chuckles. “Here is my official question. How did you find the fragment so quickly?”
My smile turns brittle, and my eyelid twitches.Donotlook at Lachlan,I order myself. He never said it outright, but I get the feeling that he’s not supposed to be helping me. And I don’t want to seem incapable of deciphering clues on my own.
